Almost.
The confusion stalled her brain, preventing her from taking that final leap.
The electronic lock hummed behind her and she rolled over in time to see Hammer enter the room, his arms laden with a bag of food and a tray of sodas.
“Hey Sparky. I’ve got us some Chinese food.”
“Sounds good.” She made an effort to sound excited as she pushed herself upright, but in reality, she wanted to snuggle under the covers and figure this mess out.
The pungent smell of garlic wafted her way. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she’d not eaten much. If she passed out from low blood sugar, he’d call an ambulance. She couldn’t afford that. Better to suck it up and have some food.
“Here.” Hammer passed her a plastic container with a fogged-up lid. “I guessed.”
“Chicken with broccoli.” Her eyes stung with unexpected emotion. “That’s my favorite.”
She looked up at him, grateful he was too busy unpacking the rest of the food to notice her sudden teariness. It was stupid to cry over something as silly as Chinese food but it was more than that. She’d been with Guy for what felt like forever. He’d never been able to remember what she liked. Hammer blew out a breath as he sat on the bed beside her.
She cleared her throat, tamping down the emotion. “Thanks, Hammer. I appreciate this.”
He locked eyes with her. Instead of feeling small, vulnerable, like a dead shrimp, she grew stronger for his gaze. What an odd sensation. A good one, but completely unexpected. She should stop trying to anticipate Hammer. It didn’t do her any good.
He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. She let her lids slide closed, reveling in the sensation. All thoughts of Guy went away, chased by the warmth of Hammer’s touch.
Chapter Fifteen
Hammer didn’t know what was wrong with Quinn but he hoped he was making it better, not worse. Seeing her like that, curled up on the bed as if she’d lost all hope, had sucker-punched him right in the gut. Her spark was dim, her inner light faded. That was completely unacceptable to him.
Offering her the only thing he had that would comfort her, his touch, was the only thing he could think to do.
Her cheek was so soft, smooth like expensive silk and warm as a summer day. With her lids closed, she appeared young. Vulnerable. Not the fierce and fiery woman he’d fallen in love with. But this aspect of her made his heart ache even more. To protect her, to heal her. To have her forever.
She sighed and her eyes opened. With a small smile, she pulled away from his hand and focused on the takeout tray in her lap.
An idea bloomed. A way to let her know he did understand what she was going through. It wouldn’t be easy to tell her but maybe if she listened it would help.
“You know,” Hammer began, balancing his plate on his knees, “I knew a girl who dated someone like your ex.” Quinn blanched. Hammer spoke quickly, trying to get to the point before she shut down completely. “My brother Benjamin is an asshole. The kind of guy who sees what he wants and takes it, no matter who or what stands in his way. He decided he wanted Lora Sands and so he took her. She didn’t have the option of saying no.”
The old bitterness crept back into his voice. He charged on, not daring to look over at Quinn. “He’d treat her like she was an angel then call her a whore. He was abusive. He didn’t hit her a lot to begin with but he’d run her down every chance he got. She was scared to move, afraid of his bad opinion.”
Just get the story out. Come on, Hammer. Get it over with.
Quinn sat silent beside him. He couldn’t even hear her breathe.
“One night he came home drunk, wanted to fuck her. She said she’d been trying to get the courage to leave him and this was the last straw. She called me. I picked her up, cleaned up her cuts and bruises, told her she could stay with me as long as she wanted. I called the cops but she refused to testify against Ben.” Hammer drew burning oxygen into his lungs. “She stayed with me for three months. She said she loved me, said I was completely different than Ben. But in the end, when he crooked his finger she came running. It was as if all the bad shit he’d done completely slipped her mind.”
“Oh my god,” Quinn said. He glimpsed her pale and drawn face before continuing.
“When I asked her why she’d gone back, she said that she loved him and she was afraid of what life would be like without him.” Hammer poked at his food with his chopsticks.
“What happened then?”
Hammer shrugged one shoulder. “They moved out to Colorado. I haven’t spoken to either of them for three years. They might still be together or he may have put her in a fucking grave. I don’t know. I spent a year or so after it happened trying to beg Lora to get away from him, to see that she deserved better. She never would leave him after that.”
Quinn rubbed his taut biceps, easing the tense muscles. “It wasn’t your fault, Hammer. She made her choice on her own. You did the best you could.”
He sighed heavily. “I know. I wanted you to know that I understand. It’s hard to let someone go if you loved them, even if they treated you like shit.” Placing his plate aside, he held onto Quinn’s shoulders. “But let me tell you something, Sparky. If I ever,
ever
find out someone has put a hand on you like that, I will kill them. I don’t give a shit who they are or what you feel for them. The bastard will die for hurting you.”
The coldness in his voice left little room for argument. Her eyes wide, she nodded.
“You should eat before it gets cold.” He gestured to her plate.
Putting words to action, Hammer scooped a bite of his food to his lips. Against the bitter tang of old memories, the food that should have been delicious tasted like ash. He chewed anyway, the methodical movements easing the anger that possessed him.
After a few minutes of silence, Quinn cleared her throat. “So the competition is tomorrow night, right? The one you’re entering me in?”
She sounded more normal than she had since she’d wandered back to the booth. He didn’t try to hide his relieved smile.
“Yep. Are you still up for it? There’s still time to pull you out if you’re not sure.”
“Oh no, it’ll be fine.” The thin thread of doubt in her words pulled his gaze like a shot.
He lifted a brow at her. “You wouldn’t lie to me about that, would you, Sparky? I’m not going to force you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”
She shook her head, the vehement gesture flopping her too-long bangs to cover her eye. “No, no way. This is the way we get everyone to pay attention. Tattoo Hammer is here and he’s a winner.” She punctuated the statement with a large bite of Chinese food.
He pursed his lips and watched as she shoved another bite into her mouth, presumably to keep from speaking.
“I’ll ask you one more time and then I won’t ask again. I want the truth. Do you want to back out of the contest?” He kept her pinned with a stare, begging her to trust him.
Quinn chewed slower, using the borrowed time to figure how to lie more convincingly. What could she say? How could she tell Hammer what he wanted to hear without blurting out the truth, that Guy was at the convention and she was scared shitless to see him again?
Hammer hadn’t moved an inch since asking her the question. He sat there, barely blinking as his pale-green gaze kept her treed.
She closed her eyes, her last defense as she swallowed the bite of food. “I am not backing out of the competition.”
It wasn’t exactly the answer to his question but it was the best she could do. Hammer needed her help. The clientele of the convention deserved to see the extent of Hammer’s considerable talent. His business could thrive, and she could help. It might be small recompense for everything he’d done for her, everything he’d given her, but it was a debt she couldn’t think about shirking.
The shift of the mattress made her open her eyes. Hammer had stood, turning away from her. “If you’re sure, Sparky.”
She couldn’t tell if he was disappointed in her obvious skirting of the truth or not. He kept his back to her as he gathered the trash from their takeout picnic.
“I’m going to grab a shower if you don’t mind.” Hammer disappeared into the bathroom without waiting for her response.
She looked down at the floor, desperately wishing things were different. That she wasn’t a fucking headcase still being played by the asshole who’d left her. How could she even consider going to meet him at the bar tonight?
Nervous energy flooded her limbs and she stood, pacing by the end of the bed.
Why did she have to even think about Guy? So what if he had been her first “love”? Love didn’t make you feel like shit. Love didn’t call you names or make you feel like less of a person. Love didn’t hit you or force you to have sex when you didn’t want to—or ruin your credit and disappear without a word.
Love treated you like a princess. Like you mattered. Love didn’t put you in second place. Love lived to see your smiles, your laughter, your pissed-off face because it was cute.
Quinn’s heart stopped and she gripped the edge of the dresser for support.
Love. Hammer.
He loved her. He’d been showing her in a thousand little ways. The way he looked at her, the way he spoke to her. Even a few minutes ago, when he’d demanded the truth. He’d demanded because he loved her.
Her knees gave out and she sat cross-legged on the carpet with a thump.
His lazy half-smile. His rage when he’d threatened to kill anyone who hurt her. The way he’d kissed her hair when she clung to him, comforting without questions, without judgment.
God help her, she loved him too. Really loved him.
She flopped back on the carpet and stared at the ceiling. When had this happened? Did it matter when? What was she going to do now?
“Sparky, are you okay?”
If he stepped forward another couple feet, she’d be able to see up the towel wrapped around his waist. If she weren’t so confused, she’d definitely have requested the peep show. As it was, she pushed herself upright and raked her bangs from her eyes as she looked back at him over her shoulder.
“Yeah, fine. Had a kink in my back. Was trying to stretch it out.” She laced her fingers together, stretching them high to add credence to the bald-faced lie.
“Want me to rub it?”
Before she could respond, he knelt down behind her. His hands, still warm from the shower, drove heat directly into her muscles. She moaned softly as he worked out knots she hadn’t even known were there.
“You’re tense back here. Wait here a minute, okay?”
He disappeared. Quinn put her palms behind her on the carpet, arching her back. The man was incredible. Only a few seconds of his healing touch and she’d already felt relaxed.
He reappeared a few minutes later, drying his hands on a small white towel.
“Where’d you go?”
“I’m running you a bath. The hot water will help ease your muscles. Go soak for a while and I’ll give you a massage when you get out.”
She stared at him, lost for words.
“Yes, I’m serious, and no, I’m not asking. If you’re grumpy and in pain tomorrow you’ll run my clients off.” He pulled her to her feet. “Are you going or do I need to strip you and put you in the tub myself?”
The idea had merit but so did having a few minutes to herself to think things through some more. The feelings she’d just discovered were fresh, raw and pink like new skin after a bad burn.
“I’ll go.” She stumbled into the steam-filled bathroom.
He’d filled the tub high, laying out her toiletries along the side. She stripped and stepped into the hot water, hissing at the near-scalding temperature. Lowering herself slowly, she sighed when she was submerged. Reclining against the sloped back of the tub, she stared at the ceiling.
Tiny waves from her movements lapped at her breasts, heat advancing and retreating over her stiffened nipples. She covered them with her hands and shut her eyes, letting the hot water ease her.
Once her body was less tense, her thoughts came more freely.
The competition was tomorrow night. She wanted to tell Hammer how she felt but she needed closure from Guy first. She couldn’t go to the bar tonight, even though she needed to talk to him. She’d find Guy at the convention tomorrow and demand he pay her the money he owed.
And when that was over, she’d be free to talk to Hammer. Explain what she felt for him and see if she was right about his feelings for her. And then, she thought as she lifted her foot from the soothing bathwater, watching as silvery rivulets fell, they could decide about their future. Hopefully together.
Hammer eyed the wall separating the bathroom from him. With his legs stretched out in front of him and his laced fingers propped atop his head, he probably appeared the epitome of relaxation. In truth, he was wired so tight he should be vibrating.
Why’d he spill the whole truth about Ben and Lora? Quinn must think he made a habit of trying to rescue women from bad relationships. While the idea of being a superhero had merit, he wasn’t interested in taking up the cape permanently. Only long enough to make sure his Sparky was safe.
The shower squeaked on. Hammer bent one knee, propping his heel on the bed. A current of cool air wafted up the leg of his boxers and tickled over his bare chest. She must be close to done with her soak if the shower was running. The image of Sparky dripping wet and naked, white suds cascading down her skin, got his libido’s attention.
You might as well hang that up
, Hammer thought to that very eager portion of his anatomy.
With the way she’s feeling tonight, you’d be crazy to even try.
The shower squeaked again and the pitter-patter of water droplets ceased. Hammer pushed himself upright on the soft bed. He didn’t want it to appear as if he had any intention of jumping her bones tonight, despite the longing that throbbed in his groin.
A rosy-cheeked, wet-headed Quinn appeared, wrapped in the hotel bathrobe, with a towering white turban on her head.
“Feel any better?” Hammer asked as he came to his feet. She nodded, keeping a hand atop her turban to steady it. “Good. Lie down here and I’ll rub your back.”
“You don’t have to do this,” she said softly as she passed him on her way to the bed.
“I know.”
Her skin was revealed inch by pinkened inch as she slid the bathrobe from her shoulders. When she climbed onto the bed, Hammer adjusted his erection.
Keep your mind on her, man. Make her feel better
.
The lid of the baby oil clicked as he opened it. Quinn tossed a questioning glance over her shoulder at him.
“I use it to shave my head. It doubles as a pretty good massage oil.”
“Okay,” she said, dropping to the pillow. “I trust you.”
He rubbed a small amount of the oil between his palms to warm it then began working it into the looser muscles of her back. From the brilliant sun tattoo at the base of her spine to the dead leaf twining on an invisible wind, he kneaded her muscles, trying like hell not to see the swell of her breast, barely visible when he reached for a bit more oil.