Page 98 of Nobody Told Me Thrift Shops Sell Stolen Dragon Heirlooms

“Thank you,” she said, softer. “But no. Not tonight.”

Not tonight wasn’t the same as never. Nor was it permission.

I inclined my head. “All right.”

She looked almost surprised that I let it go.

We entered the lobby together. The door sighed shut behind us and failed to catch. I heard it. She heard it. Max heard it and glanced back, plainly dissatisfied.

The lobby was dim and narrow, smelling faintly of radiator heat, detergent, and old mail. Quinn stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face me.

“This is me,” she said.

“You live upstairs.”

“Yes. But this is the ceremonial goodbye area. Very exclusive.”

I looked toward the stairs. “I’ll walk you up.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“I’d like to.”

She studied me, perhaps deciding whether to argue. Then Max yawned so broadly his jaw cracked.

“Fine,” she said. “But if he falls asleep on the stairs, you’re carrying him.”

We climbed slowly. Max handled the stairs well but without enthusiasm. Quinn held the railing, mindful of her heels on the worn edges. I stayed one step behind her, close enough to catch her if she slipped, far enough not to crowd. I’d learned at least one thing tonight.

At her floor, she stopped in front of a door with a fresh strip of weatherstripping along the bottom and a brass number polished brighter than anything else in the hall. That, I thought, was Quinn exactly. The building might fail around her, but the piece under her care would be made better.

She unlocked the door, then turned back.

Neither of us said a word.

Max leaned gently against her leg, half asleep on his feet. Her hair had loosened further from its pins, soft around her face. The plum dress still looked beautiful, but the evening had left traces on her now: a faint crease at the waist, one earring slightly turned, the tired shine in her eyes.

I wanted to kiss her.

The thought arrived without permission and remained.

Quinn’s gaze flickered to my mouth. Only for a second. Less.

It was enough.

My breath moved slowly through my chest. I could’ve closed the distance. I knew that. The hallway was quiet. The door was open behind her. Her hand still rested on the knob. She didn’t move away.

“Quinn,” I said.

Her eyes came back to mine.

I felt the charge in the space between us, saw it when her fingers tightened slightly around Max’s leash.

Then Max nudged her hand with his nose.

It should’ve broken the moment entirely, but it didn’t. It simply reminded me that I was standing at the threshold of her home, after a professional event, while she was still tied to my legal case and dependent, in part, on the recommendation I’d promised. She was brilliant, ambitious, exhausted, and still fighting to make sure every opportunity she received couldn’t be dismissed as charity or favoritism.

Wanting was simple.