Chapter Nine

Alone in a room atChasing Time, Quinn sat on the edge of the bed. When they'd arrived, Dre's mother, who insisted everyone call her Mama B, fussed over them. The facility was spotless and smelled of lavender. Quinn's room resembled a hotel suite for the disabled, decorated in blue and gold with a bed, dresser, side table, comfortable sitting area, tiny kitchen, TV, and handrails on the walls. Her bathroom had a plush white robe on the hook behind the door and on the counter were travel-sized bottles of shampoo, soap, and moisturizer.

Quinn had taken a hot shower, needing to get out of her wet pajamas, and dressed in clothes from a bag Mama B gave her.

Earlier, while Mama B showed them around, Dre left and returned with prepaid burner phones that resembled BlackBerrys. He'd added his number and Mama B's to them. Overwhelmed and emotional because he'd done such a kind thing, and of how his mother made them feel so welcome, Quinn had smiled her thanks, tears too close to the surface for her to say anything without breaking down.

The phone buzzed, distracting her from the memory.

She snatched it off the dresser.

Are you settling in?Dre texted.

I am. Thanks.

He sent a smiley face. Exhausted?

Physically, yes.There were times in her life when she'd been exhausted, yet too excited or emotional to sleep. This ranked with those times. Mentally is another matter.

After effects.

Yeah. She sent him a gif of a head showing a brain inside and the word ‘overload'.

Want company?

The time in the left corner of the phone showed twelve-thirty. Thankfully, neither of them worked tomorrow. Even so, the day promised to be another rough one. She should try to sleep, but knew she'd only flip and flop. She remembered Dre's care of her, the warmth of his skin as his hand held hers so reverently. Her tension eased at the thought.

I'd love some.

Go out through the kitchen, I'll meet you in the parking lot. The door will automatically lock behind you.

She checked the bag Mama B gave her and pulled out a pair of fuzzy slippers. For now, these were the only shoes she had. She zipped the too-big, senior-looking jogging suit jacket and left her room. She quietly passed door after door. From some, she heard TV sounds. Once she reached the kitchen, her stomach growled. The tornado hit before she'd eaten. On their tour of the facility, Mama B encouraged them to eat anything they found in the kitchen.

Quinn glanced out the window on the back kitchen door and saw a drizzle falling, so she raised the hood of the jacket over her head. She opened the fridge and found a couple of sodas then raided the pantry before heading out the door.

As she exited, Dre's truck rounded the building. She hurried forward as he drove into the closest spot. The driver's window lowered.

"Want to dirty carb load with me?"

"Ms. Weldon, I'm a professional ball player. I watch everything I eat. I can't be tempted—" He abruptly stopped talking and squinted curiously at the items in her arms.

She grinned at his playful look.

"What are you offering?" he asked.

Her face heated. She wanted to offer him a lot more than food.

They didn't know each other well. She'd not learned about his childhood, his everyday life, or shared enough about her own. Yet, this undeniable tug toward him was strong. The sexual appeal she understood. Dre was, in a word, gorgeous. Her interest went more than flesh deep though. She'd experienced a connection to him the first day they'd met, at the brush of his hand on hers, at the kindness in his eyes, at the way he calmed her like she'd never experienced before. And it returned every time she saw him.

"I'd hate to be the reason you can't break a tackle, so I guess I'll have to eat all this myself," she flirted. "All I've got are chips, popcorn, Double Stuffed Oreos, and Snickers."

He scowled. "You don't play fair."

"All's fair in junk food." After handing him everything but the drinks, she went to the passenger side. He reached over and swung the door open. She hopped up and put the sodas in the console cup holders. The cab light soon dissipated, leaving them with only the parking lot lights for illumination.

"I'm not sure how the firemen got my grandmother to leave. I swear she would've stayed with no roof." She yanked the hood of her jacket off her head, tore open a tortilla chip bag, and offered him some.

He grabbed a few. "Your grandfather kept quiet through it all."

"Yeah, except when you were out of the truck. Grandma was complaining about how we'd lost everything, and Grandpa replied we had everything because we were alive and well."

"Like I said, a glass-half-full kind of man."

"I never understood when my father said Grandma was strong-willed. She'd always been so sweet to me. After living with them, I understand what he meant. She likes things her way." She sipped her drink. "She expects everyone to agree with her and not argue, which Grandpa does most of the time. He loves her beyond measure."

"I hear that's what marriage is about."

She laughed. "I guess so. They have been married almost sixty years. I'm worried what tomorrow will bring. I can't imagine Grandma will be accepting if we have to stay here for any length of time."

"You never know. I've seen people come to Chasing Time angry because their kids or spouses insisted they live here only to find they truly love it. If nothing else, the other residents should be a distraction for your grandparents."

"I hope so."

His shadowed eyes never left hers as he reached out and cupped her cheek. "I'm glad you're okay."

She closed her eyes and relished the caress. This man had a magical touch. When his hand fell away, she opened her eyes. Desire lit his gaze.

He'd been her rock this evening, solid, her port in the storm. Her only thought was to get closer to him.

She leaned over the console and rested her head on his shoulder, fighting the tremors vibrating through her. She concentrated on the heat from his body and the scent of his sandalwood-citrus cologne as she breathed deeply, then exhaled slowly—time and again.

"You're all right," Dre whispered and reached over to lace his fingers through hers.

Although he'd said something similar to her earlier, this time his words made her feel protected and relaxed.

Completely safe.

Her shaking stopped.

"I've never been scared of life, just wary of it. I underwent open-heart surgery as a child and lost someone very close to me years later. I didn't let it stop me from living. Even so, the thought of my heart problems returning, or someone else I love being taken from me, has always been in the back of my mind. Those thoughts kept me from feeling absolutely safe." She stared into his eyes, ignoring the fact he was an athlete. "Until this moment. Maybe it's because of everything that happened tonight or because you're such a calming presence, but for the first time in my life, instead of thinking about what might happen in the future, only this moment matters."

"I'm glad."

"So, tell me, where did you go to college?" she asked.

They talked while they ate.

"The University of Texas. During my junior year, recruiters and my coaches were urging me to file for the draft in the spring. My mother was not impressed and insisted I complete my degree before I played professionally."

"Now that I've met her, I'm guessing she got what she wanted."

He laughed. "Yeah, I took the maximum amount of hours allowed in spring and both summer sessions to finish my biology degree."

"That must have been difficult."

He shrugged. "What about you?"

"I graduated with a mathematics degree and worked as a statistician for a pharmaceutical company for a year and hated it. That's when I decided to get a teaching certificate."

Effortless conversation flowed while soft music played on the radio.

Finally, she yawned, feeling tired—her mind not racing any longer. The truck clock read two. "I better go inside. We both need sleep." She glanced up at him.

The desire she'd seen earlier flashed in his expression again. She knew he wouldn't make a move after what she'd been through tonight. So she stretched over the console and pressed her lips to his. His hand wrapped around her nape, and he tenderly deepened the kiss. Desire spiked through her entire body.

His mouth was cool from the soda, and he tasted sweet from the cookies. She thought she'd been kissed every way imaginable, but no man had ever taken his time like this. There was a complexity to the kiss—a deeper connection, a tender intensity, a restrained strength—sensations she'd never experienced before.

Captivated, she forgot everything and got lost in the kiss, lost in Dre.

When they ended the kiss, she kept her eyes closed, wishing to ward off the world. Instead, her damn brain instantly came back online. "My grandparents don't have their medications or vitamins."

~

Blood pounding throughhis veins from finally getting a taste of Quinn, Dre chuckled. "Not the reaction I hoped for after that kiss."

"What were you hoping for?"

"I hoped you might not be able to think. Or at least not think of anything besides me." Although he'd wanted to, he hadn't planned to kiss her, especially after all that happened that night and how she'd told him about her illness and losing a friend—he didn't want to take advantage of her vulnerability. Then, when she'd initiated, he couldn't stop his response. He hadn't necked in a car since high school, yet Quinn appeared so innocent, this seemed right.

"Arrogant much?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she shook her head and squeezed his arm. "Forgive me, I didn't mean that. You're like the nicest guy I've ever met. I forgot everything while we kissed." She bussed his cheek and sat straight in the passenger side of the seat. "What am I going to do about the meds?"

"They can get what they need from the clinic in the morning." He pointed with his thumb to a building down the road.

She shook her head. "The clinic won't have their prescriptions. They both take a handful every day. Heart meds, thyroid, progesterone, the list goes on."

He snatched his phone from the dashboard. "What pharmacy do they use?"

Thirty minutes later, they were inside a twenty-four-hour pharmacy from the chain her grandparents used. While the pharmacist filled the prescriptions, Dre pushed a cart behind Quinn as she went up and down the aisles.

"I'll pay you back," she said for the third time.

"Stop worrying and get what you need," he replied.

She loaded up on vitamins and other essentials they used. He picked up some random items he didn't need to make her feel better about buying stuff.

Once the prescriptions were ready, he drove back to Chasing Time. They were let inside the apartment building by the night crew. He walked Quinn to her room, both of them carrying bags from the store.

He went inside, set down the bags, and said what was on his mind. "I'm not seeing anyone. We haven't talked about this..." He pointed to her then him and back again. "But I wanted to tell you I don't have a girlfriend. I haven't for a while." For some reason, he needed to make his situation clear.

She motioned with her hand between them like he had. "What do you suppose this is between us?"

"I know what I want it to be."

"Do tell."

"More. I want to learn more about you, spend more time with you, dirty carb load more with you."

"Kiss me more," she added.

"Arrogant much?"

"I set myself up for that." Her lips quirked. "There is a problem. I don't date athletes."

"I didn't say anything about dating." He had his own reasons for not labeling the more he wanted.

"In that case, more sounds wonderful, and I'm not involved with anyone either."

He hadn't thought so, yet breathed a relieved sigh at her words. "The firefighters said they'd need a few hours to secure the house, so how about going around noon?"

"Noon it is. Thanks again for your help."

He kissed her cheek. "My pleasure."

He left through the front door and hopped into his truck. Knowing he should be exhausted, he felt energized as he drove to his mother's house. He'd enjoyed his time with Quinn and couldn't wait to see her again.

Once inside Mom's house, he scaled the stairs.

Light showed under Jamaal's door, and Dre softly knocked. When no one answered, he eased the door open an inch. Jamaal sat with his back to him, headphones over his ears. Dre stepped forward to see a game playing on the computer and a controller in Jamaal's hands.

"Behind you," Jamaal whispered urgently. "Behind you."

The wizard on the screen spun around with a blue ball in his hand and threw it at a transformer-looking monster. The monster exploded.

Dre walked out and shut the door. Of the many things a teenage boy might be doing in the morning hours of a Sunday, playing video games was the least to be concerned about.

Every time he spoke about buying his own place near Katy, his mother gave him a disapproving look and complained about what a waste of money that would be when she had plenty of room. He rented a penthouse in Dallas since he spent most of his time there. Even in the off-season, he stayed busy networking and doing promotions, so it made sense. Where he lived after his football career ended would depend on what he decided to do.

His biggest options were coaching, announcing, or med school. He'd been approached by teams with coaching opportunities and TV stations about announcing. They both involved a lot of traveling, though, and he wasn't certain if that appealed to him. That left med school, but three years of med school and another four as an intern sounded like a lifetime since he was already thirty-two.

He wondered what Quinn would think of his choices. Which she would suggest.

Those we love never truly leave us. There are things that death cannot touch. ~ Jack Thorne