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Authors: Nora Roberts
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with the scent of peonies rioting pink in someone’s front garden. “Quinn’s going to be happy here. It’s so absolutely right for her.”
“Why?”
He saw the question surprised her—or, he thought more accurately, the fact he’d asked surprised her.
“Neighborhood. That’s Quinn. Developments, suburbia, no, not so much. Too . . . formed. But neighborhood, where she knows the tellers at the bank, the clerks at the market by name? That’s all Q. She’s a social creature who needs her alone time. So, the town—that gives her the neighborhood. And the house outside town—that gives her the alone. She gets it all,” Cybil decided. “And the guy, too.”
“Handy Cal falls in there.”
“Very. I admit, when she first talked about Cal, I thought Bowling Alley Guy? Q’s gone deep end.” Laughing, she shook back her hair. “Shame on me for assuming a cliché. Of course, the minute I met him, I thought, oh, Really Cute Bowling Alley Guy! Then seeing them together clinched it. From my standpoint, they’re both getting it all. I’ll enjoy coming back here to visit them, and Fox and Layla.”
They turned at the Square, and onto Main Street. One of the cars stopped at the light had its windows open and Green Day blasting. While Ma’s Pantry and Gino’s remained open—and a few teenagers loitered outside the pizza joint—the shops were closed for the night. By nine, Ma’s would be dark, and just after eleven, Gino’s would lock it up. The Hollow’s version, Gage thought, of rolling up the sidewalks.
“So, no yen to build yourself a cabin in Hawkins Wood?” he asked her.
“A cabin in the woods might be nice for the occasional weekend. And the small-town charm,” she added, “is just that—charming for visits. I love visiting. It’s one of my favorite things. But I’m an urbanite at heart, and I like to travel. I need a base so I have somewhere to leave from, to come back to. I have a very nice one in New York, left to me by my grandmother. How about you? Is there a base, a headquarters, for you?”
He shook his head. “I like hotel rooms.”
“Me, too—or to qualify, a room in a well-run hotel. I love the service, the convenience of my well-appointed chamber in a hive where I can order up Do Not Disturb and room service at my whim.”
“Twenty-four hours a day,” he added. “And somebody comes in and cleans it all up while you’re out doing something a lot more interesting.”
“That can’t be overstated. And I like looking out the window at a view that doesn’t belong to me. Still, there are other types in the world, like many of the people in this town Twisse is so hell-bent to destroy. And they like looking out at the familiar. They need and want the comfort of that, and they’re entitled to it.”
That brought it back to square one, Gage thought. “And you’d bleed for that?”
“Oh, I hope not—at least not copiously. But it’s Quinn’s town now, and Layla’s. I’d bleed for them. And for Cal and Fox.” She turned her head, met his eyes. “And for you.”
There was a jolt inside him at that, at the absolute truth he felt from her. Before he could respond, her phone rang.
“Saved by the ring tone,” Cybil murmured, then drew out her phone, glanced at the display. “Hell. Damn. Fuck. Sorry, I’d better deal with this.” She flipped the phone open. “Hello, Rissa.”
She took a few steps away, but Gage had no trouble with the logistics or the ethics of eavesdropping on her end of the conversation. He heard a lot of “no”s between long, listening pauses. And several chilly, “I’ve already told you”s and “not this time”s followed by an “I’m sorry, Marissa” that spoke of impatience rather than apology. When she closed the phone, that impatience was clear on her face.
“Sorry. My sister, who’s never quite grasped the concept that the world doesn’t actually revolve around her. Hopefully she’s pissed enough at me now to lay off for a few
“Why?”
He saw the question surprised her—or, he thought more accurately, the fact he’d asked surprised her.
“Neighborhood. That’s Quinn. Developments, suburbia, no, not so much. Too . . . formed. But neighborhood, where she knows the tellers at the bank, the clerks at the market by name? That’s all Q. She’s a social creature who needs her alone time. So, the town—that gives her the neighborhood. And the house outside town—that gives her the alone. She gets it all,” Cybil decided. “And the guy, too.”
“Handy Cal falls in there.”
“Very. I admit, when she first talked about Cal, I thought Bowling Alley Guy? Q’s gone deep end.” Laughing, she shook back her hair. “Shame on me for assuming a cliché. Of course, the minute I met him, I thought, oh, Really Cute Bowling Alley Guy! Then seeing them together clinched it. From my standpoint, they’re both getting it all. I’ll enjoy coming back here to visit them, and Fox and Layla.”
They turned at the Square, and onto Main Street. One of the cars stopped at the light had its windows open and Green Day blasting. While Ma’s Pantry and Gino’s remained open—and a few teenagers loitered outside the pizza joint—the shops were closed for the night. By nine, Ma’s would be dark, and just after eleven, Gino’s would lock it up. The Hollow’s version, Gage thought, of rolling up the sidewalks.
“So, no yen to build yourself a cabin in Hawkins Wood?” he asked her.
“A cabin in the woods might be nice for the occasional weekend. And the small-town charm,” she added, “is just that—charming for visits. I love visiting. It’s one of my favorite things. But I’m an urbanite at heart, and I like to travel. I need a base so I have somewhere to leave from, to come back to. I have a very nice one in New York, left to me by my grandmother. How about you? Is there a base, a headquarters, for you?”
He shook his head. “I like hotel rooms.”
“Me, too—or to qualify, a room in a well-run hotel. I love the service, the convenience of my well-appointed chamber in a hive where I can order up Do Not Disturb and room service at my whim.”
“Twenty-four hours a day,” he added. “And somebody comes in and cleans it all up while you’re out doing something a lot more interesting.”
“That can’t be overstated. And I like looking out the window at a view that doesn’t belong to me. Still, there are other types in the world, like many of the people in this town Twisse is so hell-bent to destroy. And they like looking out at the familiar. They need and want the comfort of that, and they’re entitled to it.”
That brought it back to square one, Gage thought. “And you’d bleed for that?”
“Oh, I hope not—at least not copiously. But it’s Quinn’s town now, and Layla’s. I’d bleed for them. And for Cal and Fox.” She turned her head, met his eyes. “And for you.”
There was a jolt inside him at that, at the absolute truth he felt from her. Before he could respond, her phone rang.
“Saved by the ring tone,” Cybil murmured, then drew out her phone, glanced at the display. “Hell. Damn. Fuck. Sorry, I’d better deal with this.” She flipped the phone open. “Hello, Rissa.”
She took a few steps away, but Gage had no trouble with the logistics or the ethics of eavesdropping on her end of the conversation. He heard a lot of “no”s between long, listening pauses. And several chilly, “I’ve already told you”s and “not this time”s followed by an “I’m sorry, Marissa” that spoke of impatience rather than apology. When she closed the phone, that impatience was clear on her face.
“Sorry. My sister, who’s never quite grasped the concept that the world doesn’t actually revolve around her. Hopefully she’s pissed enough at me now to lay off for a few
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