“Are you going to tell me why you think I’d snitch on you?” Quinn asked, ignoring her murderous glare.
“Because that’s what you live for?” Dylan said, still not understanding why he was having a difficult time accepting this.
“When the hell have I ever snitched on you?” Quinn demanded.
“How about that time when I tried to surprise everyone by making Thanksgiving dinner?” Dylan said, still wondering when he was going to apologize for ruining what promised to be a rather delicious dinner.
“You were five and you tried cooking the turkey in the fucking microwave.” Quinn bit out with a glare that let her know that the unappreciative bastard didn’t regret selling her out.
“Because I wasn’t supposed to touch the oven,” Dylan pointed out with a glare of her own. “What about the time when I tried opening a lemonade stand?”
“You used salt instead of sugar and tried charging twenty bucks for a cup of water,” Quinn said, making her eyes narrow.
“It’s called supply and demand, you tattletaling bastard!”
“It’s called being a little psycho!”
“And my first driving lesson?” Dylan demanded, knowing that he wouldn’t have a good excuse for telling on her for that one.
“You highjacked a golf cart when you were ten and drove it into a fucking lake,” the man, who clearly looked for any reason to rat on her ass, said.
“It was a shortcut,” she pointed out. “It would have cut five minutes off my commute to school.”
“God, you really are a pain in the ass,” Quinn said, shaking his head in disgust.
“You knew this when you married me,” Dylan said, not appreciating the heavy sigh the large bastard released as though being married to her was somehow a punishment.
She was a catch, goddamnit!
“Are you going to tell me why you didn’t come to me for help?” Quinn asked, throwing her a curious look as he turned onto the highway.
“Are you going to tell me why you’re kidnapping me?” Dylan countered, earning another one of those heavy sighs that she really didn’t appreciate.
“Last night was a disaster,” he said, instead of answering her question.
“That’s an understatement,” Dylan said, still wondering what she did to piss him off this morning. Besides humming“It’s a Small World”to herself simply because she knew that it would piss him off, mostly because she just couldn’t help herself.
“You’re not comfortable with me,” Quinn said, making her frown.
“I’ve known you for twenty-five years,” Dylan pointed out.
“And yet, the thought of me touching you was enough to drive you to drink,” he drawled, making her wince.
“I may have overestimated my ability to follow through with making you the happiest man alive,” Dylan admitted, which was an understatement.
She hadn’t had sex in five years and the thought of finally having sex with someone she’d known since she was a baby wasn’t exactly helping, but add to the fact that it was with the man that told her that she ruined his life…
That and the fact that it was Quinn. It didn’t matter that she was over him, had been for a long time, it was just…
She just needed some time to get used to the idea, which was going to be a problem because they made a deal, one that she had absolutely no plans of backing out of.
“Which is understandable since we’re not exactly friends,” he said as she opened her mouth to argue with him, but…
He was right.
She’d tormented him for her own entertainment and he’d watched over her, but they weren’t exactly friends. They grew up together, but they were three and a half years apart, which meant that he’d tolerated her. When she started working at B.T. Construction, he barely acknowledged her and that hadn’t changed much over the years. They saw each other at family dinners, barbecues, and holidays, but other than glare at her when she pissed him off, which was often, they weren’t really close.
“And you want to change that?” Dylan guessed.
