He stepped out on the porch and closed the door, praying that somehow Ashley had the good sense to stay put, but hating that he couldn’t invite Quinn inside. He drew in a breath, then moved toward the porch swing and sat down.
“Aren’t you cold?”
He was, but he shook his head. As a man with few options, enduring the weather seemed like his best choice.
She faced him. “We always do Sunday brunch after church.”
“Church.” He sighed. “I forgot about that.”
“It’s okay. Jaden was fine.” She held up the bag in her hand. “I thought you might be hungry, and we had lots of leftovers.”
He watched her for a long moment. Somehow he thought it was difficult for her to be there—like holding on to her dislike of him was easier. But there she was, offering kindness anyway. He hated knowing what she must think of him. Why hadn’t he made better choices?
“Thanks for that. I actually am starving.”
She didn’t look at him as she set the bag near his feet. “I saw the video.”
He should reassure her that it meant nothing to him, but the desire to pretend wasn’t there. He’d never been completely open with anyone—what was so different about her? She was exasperating. Absolutely drove him up the wall. She was stubborn and not usually all that nice to him—and yet, seeing her standing there, he had to wonder if it was all just a front. He’d seen her kindness toward other people, the way she protected her nephew, the way she brought flowers to the police station because that receptionist lady liked them.
Maybe the standoffish Quinn was not who she was at all.
Would he ever get the chance to find out?
“I’m really sorry if spending the day with me out there hurt your street cred or whatever.”
“My street cred?” He laughed.
Her cheeks flushed. “Whatever it’s called.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, I thought it was awful. Those videos were so wrong—they made it look like teaching beginning skiers was the only thing you can do.”
He shrugged. “Maybe they’re right.”
She frowned. “I know you don’t believe that.”
He didn’t. Not really. But that fire in his belly to prove everyone wrong was flickering. How did he get here? So unsure of himself? That’s not who he was.
“Maybe you just need to get back out there.” She sat down next to him. “You need to actually ski—and not in Harbor Pointe.”
When she had his eyes, she smiled. “I talked to Judge this morning at brunch. Well, Jaden and I did. I told him how you’re helping at the shop and how you helped Jaden yesterday. He said you can go up north this weekend. Jaden said it’s better skiing up there and that maybe it’ll help get you back in the swing.”
“He thinks I’m not in the swing?” Grady stared off across the street at the row of cottages, all similar in structure but different in design. One was painted gray with a red mailbox and white trim. One was white with black trim and a turquoise mailbox. One was a subtle shade of green with a pink mailbox. Oddly, they all looked like they belonged together—a neatly stacked row of houses that had been restored. All because one man thought they still had something to offer.
“He thinks you’ve forgotten how to love it,” Quinn said.
Grady eyed the perfectly manicured yards. The pristine landscaping. The simple details that made these houses new again.
He needed someone to do the same for him.
“I’m not sure I ever loved it.”
Quinn stilled.
“It was my brother, Benji. It was something we used to do together. We skied. A lot. And it was a competition between us at first, but then . . .” How much of this did he want to tell her? “It just became this thing I had to do for him—because he couldn’t do it for himself.”
“Is he still skiing?”
Grady closed his eyes, aware that this pleasant conversation could be interrupted at any moment by an unwanted visitor who was doing who knows what inside his house. “No. He’s not.”
“Maybe you should talk to him?”
“Listen, Quinn, there’s something I need to tell you—”
But naturally, before he could get the words out—words that might’ve exonerated him from this horrible scene—the front door opened and Ashley walked onto the porch.
Grady’s eyes found the floor as he let out the subtlest sigh.
“Oh. My . . .” Quinn’s voice was barely audible.
“Hey, Quinn. Did you bring our boy some lunch?” Ashley asked.
“Why didn’t you say something?” Quinn whispered as she stood.
“It’s not what you think, Quinn.” Grady stood too.
“Oh, don’t try to explain. I don’t care about any of this.” She waved her hands back and forth between Grady and Ashley. “My dad made me bring you lunch. Thought you might not have much in the fridge, and most places around here are closed on Sundays. At least during the off season.”
“It was real sweet of your dad to think of Grady like that.” Ashley smiled as if she belonged here, on his porch, in his house.
Quinn smoothed her hands over her jeans, avoiding his eyes. “I have to get back to the shop.”
And as he stood there, feet away from Ashley, one thing was clear: the only person who belonged there with him was hightailing it in the other direction.
CHAPTER
22
I’M SUCH AN IDIOT!
Quinn could count on one hand the number of times she’d done something impulsive, and she didn’t even need all her fingers to do it. She hadn’t completely lied—her dad did encourage her to bring Grady something to eat, but only after she’d said she wanted to visit him. Quietly in the kitchen, so nobody else could hear.
“I kind of want to tell him Judge said he could go up north. I think that’s going to be a big deal for him. And after those Facebook videos, he might need some good news.”
“Then you should go over there,” her dad said. “Bring him lunch.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Quinn had said. Because it had sounded like a good idea.
When really it was the most horrible, terrible, awful idea she’d ever had.
Ashley Perkins? Seriously?
Her groan filled the car, and she followed it up with three slams on her steering wheel accompanied by “Stupid, stupid, stupid!”
She took a breath. “It’s fine. It’s not like I liked him or something. That was pity food. A pity visit. It’s good to know he doesn’t need my help. It’s great that he’s got a friend here in Harbor Pointe.” She said the words aloud, but she could hear the lie in her voice.
This man! He was the worst kind of man. He was far too experienced for someone like her, someone whose only real relationship had been practically platonic and beyond that had only ever casually dated anyone her whole entire life. That meant she was . . . well . . . not experienced. And she valued that. It meant something to her.
It meant nothing to Grady. That was a big difference. Plus, he was an athlete. Well-traveled. Well-off. She was none of those things. They were nothing alike. And perhaps most important, she was sure they didn’t share the same faith. Just look at the way he lived his life. His choices told her all she needed to know.
And yet her heart was tender toward him. Why?
She pulled into her parking space behind the flower shop and let her forehead rest on the steering wheel. “What is wrong with you, Quinn? Pull yourself together.”
So much for apologizing for her behavior.
She sighed. She knew it didn’t work that way. His decisions didn’t give her the right to treat him badly.
She’d be smart to remember that.
She got out of the car and walked toward the back door. She hadn’t even seen her refinished floor, and she had shelves to move and displays to finish. She’d spend the next two days painting her new logo behind the front counter, hanging the hand-lettered chalkboards on the walls, and setting up the n
ew displays.
Her big flower delivery would come Wednesday morning and then she’d be open for business. Her plan was to stay open late on Wednesday and host a daylong open house with refreshments and door prizes. Lucy had interviewed her for a story that had run in the Sunday morning edition of the Harbor Pointe Gazette, encouraging people to come out and support the new endeavor.
Her father had three copies of the paper at brunch.
There was a lot to finish before Wednesday, and she did not have time to waste thinking about Grady and Ashley. Once she got through this week, she’d focus all of her attention on the Winter Carnival. She’d been dreaming about her Secret Garden designs, and she practically had the entire pavilion decorated already in her mind.
If she couldn’t win first place at the Floral Expo with what she had planned, then she may never have any hope of winning anything at all. She was convinced it was her very best work.
Inspired by Grady.
She knocked the thought aside. He might’ve said a few things that helped her out of her creative slump, but the work was hers.
She unlocked the back door and let herself in, the scent of fresh paint filling her nostrils. It smelled clean, which was exactly what she wanted—a new start for her and for Forget-Me-Not. She hung her bag on the hook by the back door.
With the natural light pouring in from all the windows, she didn’t even need to turn on the lights to see how gorgeous her floors were. They were original to the building, and they hadn’t been refinished the entire time Mimi owned the shop. Now, looking at the thin boards, freshly sanded and polished, Quinn would’ve thought they were just installed yesterday.
Before she could forget, she took out her phone and texted Ryan Brooks.
You did an amazing job on my floors—thank you! And she knew his invoice wasn’t his full price—he called it the “friends and family discount.” When he and Lane Kelley got married, she’d extend the same discount on their flowers as a thank-you.
She flipped the lights on and walked to the center of the space. This was her shop now. She could do whatever she wanted with it. The creamy white walls practically begged for her attention, the perfect neutral palette for whatever she wanted to put on them. She had all kinds of new inventory to add to the shop—it had been arriving almost daily even before she was the official owner.
In all the craziness, she’d almost forgotten to stop and take in these small moments. She pulled out the photo of her, Carly, and their mother and stared at it as the clock ticked off the seconds. “I did it, Mom,” she said aloud. “All by myself.”
She heard the defiance in her own voice, even though she knew the words weren’t completely true. She’d had so much help along the way. She had Carly and her father and, of course, Beverly and Judge. Even Calvin, in his own way, had been a help to her. She had good friends in Lucy and Hailey, and while she didn’t have her own kids, she had Jaden. God had given her so many wonderful people to love and be loved by—why didn’t it ever seem like it was enough?
Was it because she was still single? Or was Carly right? Was she holding on to a false image of a mother who never really existed?
She shook the thoughts away and set the photo down. This was supposed to be a time for soaking up an accomplishment. She was a business owner, and that was a big deal.
So why did everything feel so hollow?
Outside, a lone car on the road caught her attention.
“Oh no.”
Grady’s black Jeep parked in front of the flower shop. What was he doing here? It wasn’t like he owed her an explanation. Besides, she didn’t want to see him. At all.
She made a mental note to have blinds installed so she could at least pretend she wasn’t there when she wanted to be alone. She watched as he got out of the car. He’d showered and changed, which was great for him, but not so great for her. A gray hoodie and warm-up pants somehow made him even more attractive.
“Get it together, Q,” she said, hoping the self-scolding would be enough to get her brain back on track.
He spotted her through the window and raised a hand in a subtle wave. She held his gaze for several long seconds, then finally walked over to the door, drew in a deep breath, and pulled it open.
“Hey.”
Well, that was just great. Not only did he look like this, he also smelled really good. The unfairness of it all didn’t escape her. “Hey.”
Play it cool, Collins. He’s just a guy. A very, very good-looking guy. Who, for all the aforementioned reasons, was a terrible fit for her. She chose safe guys. Guys whose pasts were as boring and mundane as hers. She had never in her life dated “the bad boy.” It wasn’t in her nature.
“I thought you might need some help.”
She stood in the doorway, scowl on her face, willing him to go away.
“Can I come in?”
“Why would you want to help me on a Sunday?”
He shrugged.
She narrowed her eyes. “Oh, you want me to sweet-talk Judge and get you out of here early; I forgot.”
“That’s not it,” he said.
She met his eyes. “Then what?”
He pressed his lips together. “Just thought you could use some help. You reopen in a couple days. Saw this—” he reached in the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a torn page of the newspaper and handed it to her. “I didn’t know if you had a copy.”
She stared at the front page of the paper, her photo staring back at her. He brought her a copy of the article? Never mind that she had a stack of papers on the front seat of her car.
“Anyway,” he said, “I knew you’d be freaking out about how much work you had to do. Especially since you took yesterday off.”
She stood there, mind teeter-tottering back and forth. She was irritated with him, but she had no right to be. She’d been nothing but rude to him since he first came to town—and he had no reason not to spend time with Ashley. Even if that time was in the middle of the night.
The thought of it turned her stomach.
She stepped away from the door and let him through. “You really don’t have to help me. I’ve got a plan for the day.”
“You do?”
She closed the door and nodded. “Get my shelves back out. Set the inventory up. Paint my logo on the back wall.” She wasn’t sure if it would all actually happen today, but it made her sound busy, and that’s exactly what she needed Grady to believe. Maybe then he’d leave her alone. Maybe then the somersaulting in her belly would subside.
“Sounds like a lot.” He stood in the middle of her shop, hands shoved in the pocket of his hoodie.
“I’ll get it done.” She walked over to the counter and pulled out her planner. She had all kinds of notes inside, along with the list of all the tasks she needed to complete. Thankfully, she’d made that list at a time when Grady was not in the room, so it was clear and made sense.
“What can I do?” He took a few steps toward her.
She glanced up. She’d be stupid to turn him down, but having him here was unnerving, especially after their brief encounter only a half hour before. She sighed. “You really want to help?”
“Yes, and I can tell by your enthusiastic reaction you’re excited about it.” He was trying to win her over, but it wouldn’t work. She’d let him help if that eased his conscience, but that was it. They weren’t friends.
“You can get the shelves, I guess. They had to move them out to do the floor.”
“Great. Point me in the right direction.”
She showed him to the back room, where she’d stashed almost everything that wasn’t on the walls. She walked over to a shelf and stood on one side, then glanced up to find Grady staring at her.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Helping you move shelves.”
“Don’t you have other stuff to work on?” He looked genuinely confused.
“They’re heavy,” she said.
He reached over, picked the shelf up with both h
ands, and walked out of the storage room.
Well, okay then.
He continued to haul heavy things out of storage, and she turned her attention to the back wall. She’d borrowed an old overhead projector from the elementary school and had just figured out how to project her logo onto the back wall so she could trace it before painting it in bold black. In her head, it would tie the whole space together. In reality, she found herself paralyzed to start.
“What’s wrong?”
She turned and found him looking at her. “Just thinking through the steps. I want to make sure I get it right.” Back to focusing on the wall, head tilted, imagining the way it would look once it was finished.
He leaned across the counter from the opposite side, still watching her.
After too many unnerving seconds, she dared a glance in his direction. “What?”
“Is this normal for you?” He folded his hands, and leaning on his elbows, he looked relaxed.
“Is what normal for me?”
“All of this second-guessing. Making sure things are perfect. It’s no wonder you never try anything new.”
She spun around and faced him. “I went skiing yesterday.”
“Practically on a dare.”
“Can we not talk about this again?”
“Because you know I’m right.”
She turned back around. “Well, is it normal for you to wake up with women you hardly know?”
Quinn had the sensation of watching the words spiral away from her as she tried to throw a lasso over them and pull them back in. What was wrong with her?
He pushed himself upright—thankfully, because now he was behind her and couldn’t see how red her cheeks must be. “You’re talking about Ashley.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “No, it’s none of my business. Forget I said anything.”
“She bothers you, doesn’t she?”
For the love. Why couldn’t she just have kept her mouth shut? “No, she’s fine. Ashley is a perfectly lovely girl. I hope you guys are very happy.”
Sarcasm did not become her.
He moved to the other side of the counter, the side where she was standing. No, no, no. She didn’t trust the way it felt when he was close—edgy and out of sorts.
Just Let Go Page 21
