He brushed blond hair out of her eyes, tracing a finger down the side of her face. It was the first time she’d ever known him to be gentle. “You know I didn’t invite you here for this,” he said softly.

“Careful,” she whispered back. “I might start to think you’re nice.” She reached down and grabbed his beer, then took a long sip.

She watched his eyes follow her movement, and she had a pretty good idea what he was thinking when she put the bottle to her lips.

Then his eyes narrowed, just a fraction. “How old are you?” he said.

She shifted against him, leaning closer, beginning to stroke a hand against his neck. “Does it matter?”

He caught her hand. “Yes.”

Quinn froze and looked at him. “Eighteen,” she said. “Too young for you?”

He visibly relaxed. “For a second I was worried you were going to tell me you were sixteen or something.”

A month ago, she had been sixteen. “Yeah, that would’ve been crazy.” She laughed and took another long sip of beer.

Tyler watched this, then snatched the bottle out of her hands. He took a long drink and finished it off. “Jesus,” he muttered. “You are sixteen.”

“Seventeen,” she whispered.

He closed his eyes and banged his head back against the chair. Several times.

“Trying to get the blood flow back to the head that matters?” she said.

“Trying to figure out if I’m committing a felony.”

“You’re not. How old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

“Four years. We could have been in high school together.” That seemed to settle him. “So you’re a senior?”

“Junior. And what, you’re a junior in college? It’s totally like the same thing.”

That made him smile.

“Is this more of your freaky honor code?” she said. “Murdering an innocent family is okay, but a slight gap in age—”

“They’re not innocent,” Tyler snapped.

“Quick, bang your other head against the chair. Too much thinking is going on.”

Tyler sighed. He put his hands on her waist, almost a caress. But then he tightened his grip as if he was going to set her on her feet.

“Wait,” Quinn said, putting her hands over his. “Don’t stop it. Please.”

“Why?”

A genuine question. So she gave him a genuine answer. “Because I like you,” she said.

His thumbs stroked over her abdomen. “I like you, too.”

“Maybe we should go back to Little League,” she said.

“What?”

“Or at least the minors.”

His eyebrows went up. “Are you telling me to slow down?”

“Not for my benefit. For yours, old man.”

Now he definitely looked like he was going to put her on her feet. So she rotated in his hands to sit against him again. She pressed her face into his neck. “Sing me another song?”

He hesitated just long enough that she thought he’d refuse.