A Risk Worth Taking

by Victoria James

  “Thank you,” she managed to say finally, breaking from his stare to look down at her muddy running shoes, wanting to look anywhere but at the blue depths of his eyes.

  “Holly—”

  “You think you can help me get into this place?” she interrupted, nudging her chin toward the house. He stared at her a second longer, then gave a quick nod, the sympathy in his expression intensifying, like he knew that she was trying to change the subject.

  “Of course I can. I just got back into town yesterday, or I would have already been over to open this place up.” He joined her on the porch and studied the plywood boards blocking the front door. Holly exhaled quietly with relief as he focused his attention on the house.

  “You’re here early, aren’t you?” Quinn asked, his back to her as he tried one of the planks.

  “Yeah, I thought I’d get a head start.”

  “You always were an overachiever,” he mumbled, as he tore off one of the boards.

  Holly was too distracted to even respond. She was disgusted with herself when an involuntary shiver of awareness teased her as she watched Quinn almost effortlessly place one of the boards beside the door. What was it about this town that brought out all the primal instincts in her? She was a strong, capable, independent woman. Why did the sight of Quinn, in his low-slung, well-worn jeans, prying off a piece of wood, suddenly make her feel feverish? Next thing you knew, she’d be making him dinner and doing his laundry.

  Quinn wiped his hands on his jeans and turned around. Holly lifted her eyes in a hurry. She hoped to God he hadn’t seen her checking out his butt. His very nice butt. And she wasn’t even going to analyze what it meant, that this was the first time in months that she’d noticed a man. She had spent the last four months in a daze, trying to juggle work, Ella, and her grief. But a few seconds back in Quinn’s presence, and all her senses were ignited again.

  “Thanks, Quinn,” she said, clearing her voice.

  A faint cry tore Holly from her thoughts. Ella. Holly ran down the walkway to her SUV, pressing the unlock button on her keys right before whipping open Ella’s door. Ella’s green eyes locked onto hers, and then seconds later she broke into a toothy, slobbery smile. Her round face was pink from her crying, and her brown hair was standing on end, but the sight of Holly calmed her almost instantly. It was a humbling and terrifying feeling, knowing that she could do that, that little Ella had that much faith in her.

  Ella and the current state of her SUV was a reflection of her new lifestyle. Once, the black leather seats were gleaming and pristine. Now, the interior was filled with empty coffee cups and stuffed animals, a car seat, a diaper bag, and a crib in a box that she was going to have to assemble before bedtime. There was not one indication that the woman who drove this car had her act together.

  Quinn stood beside her without saying a word. She felt the heat emanating off him. He smelled enticing, comforting, sort of like man and nature and…something else that you just couldn’t get from a bottle. After all these years, he still had the ability to make her knees weak just by his very proximity. She turned to look up at him, trying to decipher the expression behind the shadows in his eyes.

  “This is Ella,” she said, looking from the baby to him. Ella was transfixed on Quinn, her bright eyes doing a thorough once-over. She even leaned forward in her car seat and peered down at his feet.

  “Jennifer’s daughter?” Quinn asked, his voice thick, strained.

  Holly nodded, jamming her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.

  “She’s beautiful,” he said hoarsely, and then surprised her by breaking out in a wide smile for Ella. Ella, it seemed, was enchanted by Quinn, and she let out an exuberant squeal of delight that included arms and legs flailing. It was so contagious, they all laughed.

  “That’s a pretty name,” he said, still smiling.

  “I think so,” Holly replied softly as she unbuckled Ella, picking her up and perching her on her hip.

  “So, want to go inside?” he asked, cocking his head toward the house.

  “That would be great,” she said truthfully. “I’d really like to get started on the reno as soon as possible.” She threw her purse over one shoulder and was about to grab the diaper bag when Quinn interceded, effortlessly taking a piece of luggage from the backseat as well as the diaper bag. Don’t be impressed by that, Holly, he just has manners.

  She followed him up the walkway, holding Ella a little closer, remembering how far they had come. Ella had been miraculously untouched in the accident, remaining in the hospital only one night for observation and testing. The night Holly had brought her home from the hospital had been one of the most surreal, frightening nights in her life. She hadn’t turned on any lights when they arrived at her one-bedroom loft, instead letting the Toronto skyline cast its reassuring glow through the windows. She had carefully unbuckled Ella from her carrier and brought her into bed with her. Fear and grief had paralyzed Holly—fear that she wouldn’t be good enough for Ella, that she wouldn’t be able to cope, to care. Fear that she would never be enough, that she would never be good enough of a parent to replace the ones the little baby had lost. How could she? Jen had always wanted a child, had always wanted to be a mother—and Ella had been their world. The guilt Holly felt for being alive and raising their beloved daughter had threatened to consume her that night. Holly sat on top of the white duvet, her legs crossed, and her bloodshot eyes staring at Ella, flashes of her past playing across the baby’s tranquil face. She remembered her mother, her grandparents, her sister, Rick…

  How could all the people she’d ever loved be gone?

  But somehow she and Ella had made it. They were here. And they’d go on, just the two of them.

  “Do you have keys?” Quinn asked when they’d reached the front door. Ella was quiet, looking at the new surroundings, and then staring at Quinn, who was studying the rusting lock.

  “Yeah, hold on,” Holly murmured, hoping they were in her purse. She shifted Ella to her other hip and tried looking for them in her once-pristine Coach handbag. The designer purse she had purchased for an important lunch meeting with a potential client was now stained, filled with baby wipes, tissues, and an ancient brown banana that she kept forgetting to throw out.

  “They’re in here somewhere,” she mumbled, very aware of Quinn’s eyes on her. But that darn banana kept getting in the way. She glanced up and her stomach clenched at the sight of Quinn smiling at Ella.

  “Would you mind holding this?” Holly asked, looking deep into her purse again as she thrust the mushy brown banana in his general direction. Before Quinn could take it from her, Ella intercepted and wrapped her hands around the base of the banana and squeezed so hard that the gooey, wet innards erupted from its brown casing and splattered all over Quinn and Ella.

  “Holy f—” Quinn’s eyes darted to Ella. “Fudge.”

  “Omigod, omigod, Quinn. I’m so—”

  Holly watched in horror as Ella then smeared the banana on Quinn’s face and laughed. Holly couldn’t look anymore. She placed Ella on the porch and ducked her head into her purse as she frantically fished out the pack of baby wipes. She didn’t look Quinn in the eye as she yanked out a dozen or so moist wipes. How was it possible that she was back in town only minutes and she was already humiliating herself? These things never happened when Mary was around.

  “Um, here,” Holly choked, stepping closer to Quinn. She focused on the banana chunks on his chin and cheeks rather than his eyes.

  Quinn grabbed the wipes from her. “I can clean my face, Holly,” he muttered. To her relief, it looked as though he was trying to hold in his laughter. Holly backed up a step and reached down for Ella, who in five seconds had managed to mash the banana into her hair like a deep conditioning treatment. Holly resisted the urge to swear loudly.

  Quinn finished wiping his face and shirt while Holly contemplated whether or not she should say something.

  “I guess I should clean out my purse more often,” Holly sai
d stiffly. For some reason Ella thought that was hilarious and cackled loudly. Quinn looked up and joined her. Except he didn’t cackle. No, he had a rich, deep laugh that made Holly feel warm and tingly. And his eyes still had that twinkle she remembered. Despite the fact that he still had banana stains on the front of his shirt and was holding dirty baby wipes in his hands, Quinn looked about as sexy a man as she’d ever seen. Holly started rummaging again in her purse more furiously, determined to hide her embarrassment and irrational thoughts.

  “What else do you have in there?” he asked, peering into her traitorous bag. Ella copied his movement and tried looking into her bag, too, almost overturning herself as the weight of her head lunged her forward.

  “Got them!” Holly gasped, dangling the keys in the air triumphantly, just out of Ella’s reach. Quinn’s lips twitched, his blue eyes sparkling as he took the keys from her hands.

  “Thanks,” he said as their fingers touched for the briefest of seconds. And there it was: the shivers, the thrill, the buzz that stimulated all her senses and threw her heart into overdrive.

  Quinn didn’t seem to notice as he was already trying the keys. After jiggling the old lock on the door for a few seconds, he finally swung it open. A cloud of dust greeted them, and Quinn stepped inside, holding the door open and fanning his arm through the cloud.

  “Jake said the power should be on.” He flicked the light switch beside the door.

  Nothing happened.

  But Holly wasn’t thinking about the electricity. She was being transported back in time. There was enough light streaming through the front door that she could make out the details of the old entryway. It was exactly as she remembered. Except the sweet aroma of her grandmother’s baking wasn’t here to greet her. And there wasn’t a gentle, elderly voice calling out from the kitchen. There was just…quiet. She let her purse slide off her shoulder and gently drop to the ground as she walked further into the foyer.

  Holly loved the layout of this home, seeing it for the first time from a designer’s perspective. The old house had a center hall plan. There was a large, formal dining room to the left of the entrance, and a large living room to the right. Both rooms had big bay windows with thick-trim detailing and glorious wainscoting. She loved the French doors with sidelights and transoms on both of the rooms as well. Clients paid good money for that kind of millwork in new construction. She, Jennifer, and their grandmother had frequently daydreamed about how the house could look if someone had the money to renovate it properly. Together, they would pore over decorating magazines and clip out their favorite images of kitchens and wallpapers, window treatments and lighting. Holly had proudly informed her grandmother that when she grew up, she’d make enough money to decorate it as they had planned.

  And that’s exactly what she was going to do—restore this Victorian home to its former glory—and then sell it. She ignored the jolt of pain that jabbed her in the stomach, reminding her that it should have been Jennifer and Rick’s house, and she should have been helping them plan a renovation.

  Holly looked over her shoulder. Quinn was jiggling the old doorknob and fighting with the keys still stuck in the door, not paying her any attention. Even though she’d never admit it out loud, it felt good to have him here. The house was a little eerie. That was something she hadn’t counted on. And she wasn’t looking forward to spending the night here by herself with a baby. Heck, she didn’t even feel comfortable walking through the entire house alone. Especially without electricity.

  Holly jumped as she caught a glimpse of a vague shadow move across the floor. With the dim lighting, she couldn’t be sure…but it was exactly the type of scurrying she would attribute to a mouse. Didn’t rodents move into abandoned places? She and rodents could not co-exist. Her poor grandmother would have been mortified to think there were mice in her once-spotless home.

  “Quinn?” she asked, spinning around and shifting Ella to her other hip.

  “Yeah?” He looked up from the lock.

  “Do you think there are mice here?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably,” he said, shrugging, sounding infuriatingly unconcerned. Then he went back to jiggling the doorknob.

  “Maybe I should pick up my bag,” she thought aloud, rushing over to her purse, the wide plank floors creaking as she walked.

  “Yeah, good idea. I hear Coach is the hottest fashion accessory among the mice community,” he drawled.

  Holly raised her brows. “I wasn’t aware you were into designer accessories.”

  “I’ve been with my share of high-maintenance women, Holly,” he said with a sigh, leaning against the door frame. The image of his skeletal ex-wife, Christine, popped into her mind.

  “I’m not high maintenance.” She frowned, not sure if she was more upset about his reference to “being with” women, or his grouping her in with the lot of them. Especially his ex.

  “Know what? You’re right. You’re not high maintenance,” he said, and then turned back to wrestling with the keys. But not before Holly caught a look of sympathy—no, pity—flash across his blue eyes. Her stomach flipped repeatedly, not knowing whether that pity was due to Jennifer, or due to him remembering how she’d thrown herself at him like a slobbering, eager puppy.

  “Well, thanks for helping me into the house. But I should get to work. I really need to get started on the cleaning,” Holly said, lifting her chin.

  “Are you kidding me? You’re going to clean the house now? Tell me you’re not planning on staying here tonight.” Quinn had that wide-legged stance, arms folded across his broad chest, that she remembered so well, that still made her jittery with awareness. The same one she may have even seen a few times in her dreams over the last ten years. It was a far better look than the pity from a few moments ago.

  Holly nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Okay, so maybe when she’d originally planned on doing this the thought of mice hadn’t entered her mind, nor had the unexpected creepiness of the abandoned house. But she wasn’t about to admit that to him. She was done making a fool of herself in front of Quinn.

  “Why don’t you stay with Claire? You two are still partners in crime, aren’t you?” he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching. He was, no doubt, remembering all the trouble she and Claire had gotten into together.

  “Of course we’re still best friends,” she said, refusing to look embarrassed. Not only were they best friends, but Claire religiously kept her up to date on all things Red River—usually in real time. But more importantly, Claire was the best friend she could have ever asked for, and if it hadn’t been for her friend’s frequent trips to Toronto after Jennifer and Rick died, she didn’t know how she would have gotten through the loss. “But Claire’s away, and not coming home until Monday. I’m the one who jumped the gun and got here early.”

  Quinn frowned. “Well, how about the motel?”

  “Ew. The Red River Stop and Drop?”

  Quinn nodded.

  “Has it had some sort of major renovation since I’ve last been home? Because as I recall, that dive was more of a place that people frequented on an hourly basis,” Holly said, raising her eyebrows.

  Quinn sighed roughly. “It’s not that bad.”

  “I would need an arsenal of hand-sanitizer and anti-bacterial wipes before I set foot in that place. No thank you,” Holly said, shifting Ella to her other hip for temporary relief.

  “How about my house?”

  “Your house?” Holly repeated, quickly trying to come up with a reason that would sound reasonable. She couldn’t stay at his house. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she needed him—or worse, still had feelings for him.

  He nodded, waiting.

  “Well, I don’t want Mrs. Jacobs getting wind of this and telling the entire town we’ve moved in together.”

  Quinn mumbled something under his breath. She strained to try to make it out, not knowing if he was grumbling about her or the notorious town gossip.

  “It�
��s one night.”

  Hard, heavy raindrops clattered against the windows, making both of them jump. It was one of Red River’s infamous fall storms.

  Quinn glanced outside and then back at her. “You’re not staying here tonight. I’ll have a team come over here first thing Monday morning and get this place cleaned up for you. We’ll check for pests and all that, too, okay?”

  “No thanks, we’ll be fine,” Holly said, forcing what she hoped was a serene expression on her face and standing a little straighter. She could handle one night here. She had no choice, really, at this point. Quinn remembered her as a lovesick adolescent. She was a grown woman now. And she could handle this house.

  “Pardon?” he asked with a calm that contradicted the stiffness in his body.

  “I said, we’ll be fine. I can clean this place up in no time,” she answered firmly, trying not to show her arms were about to spasm after holding Ella so long. She looked at the ground again. She needed to wash the floors—after looking for signs of mice.

  “Fine. So you’d be just fine if I took off right now and left you two here alone?” he asked, glaring at her. His gruffness didn’t faze her; she knew Quinn was all bluster. The sound of lightning crashing nearby made her jump, and Ella wrapped her arms around Holly’s neck tightly. She heard Quinn mutter something under his breath again. The lights still hadn’t turned on, and the house was darkening.

  Holly nodded. “Yup. No problem.”

  His eyes darted from Ella to her. “Where is the baby going to sleep?”

  “I have a crib for her,” Holly said defensively.

  “I don’t see a crib.” The sky illuminated behind Quinn like the Fourth of July.

  “It’s in the car,” she replied, her eyes glancing to her SUV that was being hammered by enormous raindrops.

  Quinn frowned. “You mean, in that giant box I saw?”