God, was he ever falling for her . . .

“Man, if you looked like you were going to spit nails a few minutes ago, now you look like you’ve been hit across the head with a two-by-four.”

He lifted his eyes away from his plate and found her staring at him, her chin propped on her hand. “Huh?”

A smile curled her lips. “I said you look like you’ve been hit across the head with a two-by-four. Thinking those same heavy thoughts?”

“Thinking about you.” He caught her free hand, rubbed his fingers over the back of it.

She grimaced, her nose crinkling. “Man, I don’t know if I like being the source of heavy thoughts, Quinn.”

“I kind of like it,” he said. He lifted her hand and nibbled on her knuckles. “Beats out a lot of the miserable shit I’ve had trapped inside my head.”

“Wow.” She cocked a brow at him. “That’s flattering.”

Scowling at her, he replayed those words through his head and then winced. “Hell. That does sound a little less than flattering, doesn’t it?”

“Hmmm.” She continued to gaze at him, but her eyes danced with suppressed laughter.

Fuck. He loved those eyes. Loved seeing the smiles that danced there, hated the sadness that too often broke his heart. He could look into those eyes every day for the rest of his life . . .

Son of a bitch.

Son of a fucking bitch.

Right there, right in the middle of a meal he didn’t really want, in the middle of a crowded, mom-and-pop diner, he realized he was in love with her. He’d already gone and put his heart in her hands—and he was terrified.

Floored, his mouth dry and his heart racing, he leaned back against the padded bench and stared at her. Unable to tear his eyes away from her face, unable to speak, even when she started to squirm around under the weight of his stare.

“Ahhh . . . you’re doing it again,” Sara said, licking her lips. “Doing that drift off into outer space or something.”

“No, I’m not,” he answered, forcing the words past his dry throat.

He could look into those eyes, every day, for the rest of his life. And do it quite happily. He was in love with her.

And Quinn was abso-fucking-lutely clueless about how to handle it.

Have you entered to win the Nook?

Borders | BAMM | B & N | Book Depository | IndieBound | Amazon | Powell’s