by Cindi Madsen
“I heard.”
She shrugged. “It was bound to happen someday. Might as well be when everything in my life is on the line. It’ll make it that much easier to walk away from my job if I actually get Mountain Ridge, right?”
He flinched, and she put her hand on his arm. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to drag the property into it. We’ve both invested a lot of time and energy into trying to achieve our dreams, and I’m proud we never resorted to playing dirty. I’m still all about the winner getting good luck wishes and a congratulatory kiss. I’ll be okay either way.”
The squeak at the end of her sentence made it hard to think she believed that. Pressure built, pressing against him. The urge to bolt was strong, but that’d make him a dick. It’d also make him just like his dad, and he refused to use the cut-and-run method on Quinn. Cracks were forming in their attempt to pretend they’d be okay regardless of what the town committee decided, though, widening more and more the closer they got to it happening.
If she doesn’t show this weekend, they’ll for sure award it to me. Sometimes he felt guilty that he could work on the float during the week when she was busy with her job, even though he knew he could use all the extra points he could get. “Let’s not worry about Monday right now. Let’s hop in the truck and stick with the weekend we planned.”
“According to my father, I never think about the future anyway. Might as well go with it, since I’m going to be accused of it.” She poured two mugs of coffee and added cream and sugar to hers before taking a gulp that had to have burned off her taste buds.
Ten minutes later, they’d both showered and Quinn sat in his truck, her wet hair piled into a high bun that displayed that one stripe of red. Despite how messy and complicated things were becoming, he couldn’t get over how beautiful she was. How much he wished he was a different kind of guy. One who could make her happy long-term.
Again he heard that heavy silence after her dad had asked her, how quiet she’d been when Mr. Sakata had asked if he even had a degree.
As much as he wanted to not care, it was like ripping off a scab that now needed to heal all over again. It was one thing for his dad or even hers to feel that way, but he thought Quinn saw more.
He needed to prepare himself for the inevitable ending. With several cracks already in place, all it’d take was one more complication to add enough pressure to burst apart and crumble, and with their opposing position and someone being on the losing end, it was only a matter of time.
This was exactly why he should’ve stopped himself from falling before he’d gotten all wrapped up in her. And definitely before he’d started thinking that he’d give anything to find a way to get over their vast differences and the committee’s decision and take a real stab at making things work.
…
Quinn’s fingers were coated with glitter, and she was pretty sure she’d have a permanent mark in her palm where she’d gripped the unforgiving handle of the industrial-sized stapler. Her forearm ached with the repeated stapling motion, and a sneeze that wouldn’t just come out already had been holding her nose hostage for the past minute.
Her phone chimed again, and even though she was sure it was Maya, she glanced at the display to confirm. Her sister was currently the only family member still on speaking terms with her, and with how often she’d texted to tell Quinn that their parents were upset and she needed to call them and make things right, Quinn sort of wished she’d stop talking to her, too.
Of course Maya thought a massive blowout years in the making could be solved in a matter of hours. Because if it were her, she would’ve already smoothed it out with an apology. Strike that. She never would’ve dared to yell or slam a door in the first place.
For the first time, a hint of that resentment she’d never felt at her sister for being the good one rose to the surface. Great. Now I feel totally cut off from my family.
At least Maya and Steven had closed on their house a few days ago, so Quinn would have the Hope Springs house to herself.
Or maybe not totally to herself… She smiled over the float at Heath. He gave her a weak smile in return and refocused on testing the butterflies for any spots that might need tightening in case the trailer encountered a bump on its way down Main Street. Their afternoon in the garage wasn’t like the other times they’d worked on the float. Their usual banter and flirty glances back and forth weren’t there, only the sound of staple guns, crinkling paper, and the occasional “pass the festoon” between them. She’d even take arguing over the awkward silence.
Every time she asked if he was okay, he claimed he was fine, but she wondered if he regretted bringing her to Hope Springs. If he’d decided she was too much drama now that he’d seen how much Chichi liked to play puppet master in her life and how hard it was for her to break free of it.
For about the hundredth time that day, she wished Sobo Machi were there so she could talk to her and get her advice. How did you move mountains but not lose your family? Because as angry and frustrated as she was with them, she couldn’t imagine not having them in her life. Going along with whatever had been so easy the past few years, despite how unhappy she’d been. Choosing her own happiness over theirs was selfish, right?
Then again, living in constant resentment and suppressing who she truly believed she was meant to be wasn’t going to move any mountains, either. She just hadn’t realized she’d feel so lost. There was also an edge of desperation, too, because she’d have to go into the office on Monday and face Chichi, and if she didn’t get Mountain Ridge…
Yeah, there was nothing after that. Her future was suddenly a black hole. For someone who didn’t consider herself a planner, that terrified her more than she’d expected.
She stapled the last flower in place and then stepped back. “Wow. We actually pulled it off. With a week to spare.” Not that she would’ve had actual time during the week to work on it, but at least it wouldn’t require a caffeine-fueled all-nighter the day before the parade now.
Heath jumped down and came to stand next to her. Hesitantly, she reached out and snaked her arm around his waist. I need us to at least be okay. Please show me we’re okay.
He looked down at her, and her heart caught. Then he drew her closer and lowered his lips to hers. “Never could’ve done it without you.”
“Right back at you,” she whispered.
Heath rested his forehead against hers and took in a deep breath, and she wrapped her other arm around him in a tight hug, fighting the urge to cry and not even knowing why.
After a minute like that, he pulled out his phone. “Looks like we’ve got just enough time to clean up and get to the concert. You still up for it?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been looking forward to it all week. I know you guys kept it mellow for the wedding, and I’m eager to hear you play and sing all out.”
They put away the tools and piled the few materials they had left over in the massive box that’d been bursting when they’d first gotten it. Their “Spread Your Wings and Fly” float might not be quite as impressive as the others in the garage, but it no longer stuck out as the ugly stepchild.
As skeptical as she’d been about working on the float with Heath in the beginning, they’d made something beautiful, upbeat cheesy message and all. It was hard to celebrate finishing when it signaled how close they were to the end of what had forced them together in the first place, though.
With the town committee’s verdict right around the corner, things were shifting. Their best intentions might not be enough to stave off the bitterness that’d follow for one of them, but she couldn’t help hoping they’d make it through the storm. Weren’t those the kinds of experiences that were supposed to make you stronger?
She didn’t see how, but that was the thing about hope. You didn’t need to have everything figured out to hold on to it.
Chapter Twenty-One
The music made everything better. Recording the album had been hectic, with long hours of playing the guitar unti
l his fingers ached and protested at the thought of another song—but studio time was expensive. So he’d played on, Will had hammered away on the drums until he’d said his arms felt like noodles, and Sadie had sung until she’d almost completely lost her voice.
But tonight, in this tiny venue with the good down-home country boys and girls, music took away Heath’s worries about Quinn and the property and left nothing but the rush of being onstage.
Sadie belted out a song about simple life, and he felt the urge to shout an amen. Maybe he was a simple country boy, but he liked that about himself. He didn’t need money and fame and glory, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to try to be anyone else. He hit the chords harder and bobbed his head.
The crowd buzzed with energy, clearly taken with Sadie’s magical voice. When he first mentioned needing a singer for the band he and Will piddled around with on the side, he’d thought they’d play and have fun. He’d never expected the recording contract, although he should’ve known she had the star power to make it happen. Still, he was glad they were relatively unknown as of yet. If their album blew up after it released, he’d have to find a way to deal with the extra time commitment, but he’d cross that bridge when he got there.
Right now he’d enjoy the music while it was about it and nothing else. As the song came to a close, he scanned the crowd for Quinn.
Her shiny dark hair was stick straight, and she’d done up her eyes and put on bright red lipstick, so she looked the way she had the night they’d danced at the Triple S. Even with everything up in the air between them, he wanted to jump down, scoop her in his arms, and kiss her. Their memories together flooded his mind, from having her riding behind him to teaching her to drive his bike to the smug look on her face when Patsy informed him about the beard-shaving contest.
Good memories he’d have long after she’d moved on to someone more appropriate for her.
Don’t think about that now. He winked at her, and she beamed up at him, and then they started the next song, which was appropriately about lost love and the resulting broken heart.
…
Obviously she and Cory had decided to go for a drink at the worst possible time. Not that the bar had been slow at any point since Dixie Rush started playing. The place was wall-to-wall bodies, most everyone decked out in cowboy hats and boots.
In her black leather zippered pants and red stilettos, Quinn definitely stuck out. People probably thought she’d mistaken the show for a rock concert. The rustic decor, complete with a moose head staring over the bar and judging everyone who came for a drink, struck her as slightly ironic, too. Everywhere she looked was another reminder that she and Heath were so crazy different.
Cory waved at two bartenders, but they charged by without a second look.
“Move aside and watch the master work,” Quinn said. She hoisted the top half of her body onto the bar, caught the eye of a beefy bartender with a belt buckle the size of a football, and shot him a flirty grin.
He shoved a drink at someone else and then sauntered over. “What can I get you, darlin’?”
Cory rolled his eyes and spun to face the guy. “Three of whatever beer you’ve got on tap.”
The bartender glanced at Cory, looking none too happy to find him there. With a sigh, he turned and grabbed three glasses. The last song came to a close, Sadie and the boys thanked everyone for coming and left the stage, and the crowd chanted for an encore.
Quinn leaned back against the bar and whistled to add to the buzz—they’d put on a hell of a show. Pride over Sadie’s success and happiness that her best friend was living out her dreams flooded her. Some of it was for Heath, too, of course.
See, he’s got so many jobs already. He doesn’t need another one.
The evil thought had come out of nowhere, and she tried to shake it off. He had as much reason to want Mountain Ridge as she did, plus he had his brothers to consider.
Ugh, whatever happens, I know it’s going to be hard for whoever doesn’t get it to be happy for the other person. For the past couple of hours, she’d tried to convince herself it wouldn’t be a big deal, but her thoughts broke through before she could stop them, showing her how unlikely that was.
The crowd roared as Sadie, Heath, and Will stepped back onto the stage. Sadie wrapped her hand around the microphone and said, “Okay, one more. This one’s going out to my fiancé.” She winked—no doubt at Royce, although Quinn could no longer see him in the crowd—and the familiar notes of Sadie’s favorite Carrie Underwood song filled the air.
Finally Quinn and Cory got their beers, with Cory carrying the extra glass for Royce. As soon as the song ended, people shoved toward the stage, vying for a chance to talk to the band.
Of course Heath’s line consisted mainly of women. Almost every one of them stopped to pose for pictures, too, which somehow always meant putting their hands all over him. Seriously, did they have no boundaries? Quinn watched a leggy redhead lean into him and laugh, pressing her silicone-enhanced assets up against him.
Most of those women would have sex with him in a heartbeat, too, she could tell. He talked a lot about getting bored easily. How he hated feeling tied down and often felt the urge to move on. The word “claustrophobic” had even been mentioned when he spoke of commitment. It’s only a matter of time before he decides he’s sick of waiting.
She glanced at Cory. “Why are guys so afraid of settling down with one woman?”
He choked on his beer and sputtered for a moment before getting it under control. “Jeez, Quinn. Warn a guy before you spring that on him.”
“I just want to know.”
Cory wiped at the front of his shirt. “No, you wanna know about Heath, not me.”
“Well, I figure you guys have enough in common that you could provide some insight.” Quinn nearly asked him what he’d do if a girl he really liked asked him to wait for sex, but she was afraid she knew the answer, and with her insecurities flaring, she didn’t think she could hear it without having a panic attack. Not with all those pretty women surrounding Heath.
“Look, he likes you,” Cory said. “It’s obvious.”
“But enough to make it work, even though we want the same property and I’m not willing to go as far as other women?”
Cory shifted from foot to foot, suddenly very interested in his beer.
“Once the right person came along, it’d be different for you, right?” she asked, a sense of desperation tugging at her and diminishing her oxygen supply. “If you really cared, you’d make sacrifices?”
“That’s the theory.”
“Theory?” Her voice came out more high-pitched than she meant for it to.
“I’m not playing anymore.” Cory nudged Royce over. “You talk to her.”
Royce was different—he was a guy who committed to relationships and would work like crazy to maintain them. He’d do anything for Sadie, and they’d fallen in love when they were teenagers. When it looked like he might lose her again, he’d been willing to give up everything to be with her.
Royce glanced at her before his gaze automatically returned to Sadie. She had a mix of men and women approaching her.
“How do you deal with it?” Quinn asked.
“I trust her.”
That thorn dug at her. Because she didn’t trust guys in general. All they’d ever shown her was that she couldn’t trust them.
She’d hoped for a better pep talk, but Royce had never been what one would call verbose. He also didn’t believe in sugarcoating things. Quinn tipped back her drink, draining it in a few large gulps. Then she decided it was her turn to head over and congratulate the band on their good show. And only a little bit so that she could wrap her arms around Heath and let the groupie wannabes see that he was already taken.
…
By the time he and Quinn made it out of the bar, the long day was taking its toll. His limbs dragged, and he wanted to crawl into bed. If he were being honest, he’d love to have Quinn sleeping next to him, but then sleepin
g would be nearly impossible.
Plus it meant getting in deeper, and he was already in over his head.
He opened the door to his truck for Quinn, put his guitar in the back, and then walked around the hood and slid behind the wheel. “Where to?”
“I guess my parents’ house. Fingers crossed they didn’t change the locks in order to teach me a lesson.” She sat back with a groan. “How am I going to go into the office on Monday morning? It’s going to be so horrible.”
“So quit.”
“I can’t just quit—not without a fallback. Of course, I don’t even have a way to get back to Cheyenne.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples and rubbed circles there. “I really screwed up things good this time.”
Ouch. He hated that her words stung. Now he was turning into some sensitive guy he didn’t even recognize, taking offense at everything when he wasn’t even sure if it was aimed at him.
“You can take my truck to Cheyenne,” he said. “You’re coming back for the parade next weekend anyway, and I’ll just drive my motorcycle till then.” He put the truck in reverse and glanced in the rearview mirror.
“That’s okay. I don’t want to be obligated to you.”
He hit the brakes, threw the truck in park, and looked at her. “Obligated? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugged. “I just mean I don’t want to owe you anything. It always comes along with certain expectations.”
“That’s what you think of me? That I’ll come to collect, bartering sex for a week’s use of a truck? I thought maybe…” He shook his head. “You’ve got about as high an opinion of me as your father.”
“That’s not true. In my experience, though, that’s the way it works. It’s a truck or a necklace, and then it’s look at all I did for you. I’m sick of waiting. It’s been such and such amount of time. Just come on.” She tucked her knee under her and twisted to face him. “And how am I supposed to even expect you to wait when you’ve got women throwing themselves at you all the time? I’m not stupid.”
