Chapter 88

He was waiting for me as I turned into his driveway. I caught him in my headlights and saw he was wearing a cream-colored fisherman-knit sweater and dark trousers. There was a light breeze blowing, and it mussed his hair.

I doused the headlights, switched off the ignition, and got out of the car. Quinn didn’t kiss me—we could be seen by inquisitive neighbors, especially the couple who lived across the street and who had suddenly started paying attention to what was going on in their neighborhood—but I could tell by his body language that he wanted to.

Instead, we shook hands. He tickled my palm with his middle finger, and I growled at him. His grip tightened, and then he let go.

“I love this time of year.” He tipped his head back, closed his eyes, and drew in a deep breath. “Especially when I can be at home.”

The air was cold and crisp. I copied his actions, but kept my eyes open. The sky was like black velvet. Clouds drifted across it, and stars winked out and then reappeared.