“Quinn?” Jake asked, taking a sip of his coffee.
Quinn sighed. “Yeah?”
“Ten bucks says Holly will have you eatin’ out of her hands in twenty-four hours,” he said with a smirk.
Quinn wished he could punch him. Instead, he stalked off, his brother’s chuckle following him out the door. He didn’t bother zipping up his raincoat; the rain suited his mood.
He stopped on the sidewalk outside the diner and glanced down at his watch: seven thirty in the morning. Maybe he should bring coffee to Holly. He walked back into the diner, not bothering to look in Jake’s direction and ignoring the fact that he heard his name and Holly’s as he passed Mrs. Jacob’s table of animated elderly women.
He ordered two coffees to go.
“Have a good day, buddy. Leave the ten bucks in my truck,” his brother called out to him in a voice thick with laughter as Quinn reached the door with his coffees. He cursed under his breath. Sometimes he really hated living in a small town.
…
Holly groaned and rolled over in her sleeping bag as the forceful knocking on the front door continued. She squeezed her eyes shut. It was too painful to contemplate moving. The rain pounding against the roof and windows incessantly was a mere whisper compared to the hammering going on in her head. What a horrible weekend. She had slept for about four hours last night—four miserable hours—thanks to what seemed like a conspiracy between Ella and what sounded almost certainly like mice. Holly did not know how it was possible that Ella knew exactly when Holly was about to drift off to sleep, and then decide that was the moment she should wake up. And after changing her diapers, giving her a bottle, and walking her around the house, Holly had been forced to buckle her into the car seat at two o’clock in the morning and drive around Red River to get Ella to finally fall asleep. It had been four a.m. when Holly gathered the courage to move a sleeping Ella from the car seat to the crib, and then she crawled, exhausted, into her sleeping bag on the hard wooden floor beside the crib in the living room.
The knocking continued. She stretched and groaned, looking at her watch. Seven forty. Her body ached. She had been on her own with Ella for twenty-four hours and she was already failing.
A quick glance at Ella proved she was still sleeping soundly in the crib Quinn had assembled. As she’d watched Quinn put together the complicated crib, having to go out in the rain to get tools from his car, she’d been secretly relieved that he’d insisted on doing it for her. It made her think of all the times she’d watched him from her bedroom window as he’d helped her grandfather around the old house. He’d always been there for her grandparents, for her. She had thanked him—though perhaps she didn’t admit that there would have been no way she could have assembled the crib without any tools…or at all. Holly tiptoed out of the living room and carefully shut the French doors behind her.
She had spent the entire weekend scrubbing the first floor of the house, giving the old place a cleaning her grandmother would have been proud of. But she was glad it was Monday. Monday meant she could get this show on the road, and then get back to her life in Toronto. Back home, everything ran smoothly—thanks to Mary. Holly had been able to keep up with her work schedule and then come home at night and spend some quality time with Ella. Claire was back in town today, and Holly was looking forward to both moral support and help with Ella.
As Holly approached the door, she saw Quinn through the sidelights. She quickly darted away from the window before he saw her. She looked down in horror at her pajamas. Skating penguins weren’t exactly the kind of nightwear she wanted Quinn to see her wearing, but she hadn’t expected him to be here first thing in the morning. She crossed one arm in front of her. She should have slept with a bra on. Quinn noticed everything. She quickly tried to straighten her hair. Maybe he wouldn’t notice the penguins.
“Are you going to open the door, or put on lipstick?” Quinn called out impatiently through the glass.
The last thing she wanted was him thinking she was inside primping for his arrival. Holly swung the door open. Geez. It should be illegal for a man to look that good this early in the morning—he was all tall lines and hard muscle, combined with a face more handsome in reality than memory.
“That’s a lovely way to greet someone,” she said, tightening her arm around her chest while trying to ignore the old Quinn-effect. It was even harder to do at this time of the morning and without caffeine.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” he asked, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling as he winced. She wished he’d go back to being arrogant, because compassion from him was as tempting as homemade ice cream on a hot day.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, waving one hand in the air and stifling a yawn.
“I brought coffee,” he said, handing her a cup.
This was getting dangerous. “Thanks.”
“Glad I could help,” he said with a slight smile. “So, how was your weekend?”
“Wonderful,” she said proudly and took a sip of the steaming coffee.
His eyes wandered over her, and everywhere they landed she felt a traitorous heat sweep over her. “Liar. I’d say you haven’t slept in days.”
“Gee, thanks. You always were one for compliments.”
“You’re as gorgeous as always, Holly. You just look tired, that’s all,” he said with a low chuckle.
She ignored the praise and the flash of heat that accompanied it. “I need some fresh air. And if that baby wakes up before I finish my coffee, I’m going to poke my eyeballs out with a dull fork,” Holly said under her breath as she slipped on her shoes and went to stand on the porch with Quinn. She quickly grabbed the baby monitor handset so she could hear if Ella cried. It was pouring outside, but the big veranda easily kept them sheltered and dry. She looked at Quinn, who was staring at her with a barely concealed smile.
“Here, why don’t you put my coat on. We wouldn’t want those penguins to get wet,” he said, smiling as she choked on any chance at coming up with a clever rebuttal.
“They were the only pajamas I could find,” Holly lied, looking down at the bright flannel. Actually, all her pajamas were a variation of some sort of flannel, but he didn’t need to know that.
Quinn placed the coat around her shoulders. She put her arms through the sleeves, and the warmth of his coat engulfed her like a cup of hot chocolate. She settled on the top step next to his side and stared out at the falling rain. The effect he was having on her was powerful enough without having to look directly at him. They sat together in silence, sipping their coffee and watching the rain pelt the ground. It had been a long, long time since she’d been able to just sit and watch the rain falling. And it had been even longer since she and Quinn had sat together on these steps.
Quinn’s deep voice broke the silence. “So all the trades should be here soon, and then hopefully by tomorrow morning we’ll have a bunch of quotes that you can look over. This place will be cleaned and ready to go by tonight, too,” he said, taking a sip of coffee and turning to look at her.
“Well, half the cleaning is already done,” Holly said. She frowned when Quinn cursed under his breath, looking upward.
She sat up a little straighter. “Seriously, it needed to be done.”
He shook his head, and she could see the twitching in his jaw as she stared at his strong profile. “I’m not even going to bother responding to that, Holly.”
“Suit yourself.” Holly sniffed, looking into her cup.
“You haven’t slept a wink, have you?” he asked. This time he wasn’t laughing at her. In fact, he looked oddly sympathetic. Tender, even. His voice was deep and smooth, and it coursed through her body like sweet, pure honey. And his face was far too close to hers. She could see the tiny lines at the corner of his blue eyes, and she wished for a second she knew the moments that had placed them there. She made the mistake of glancing at his mouth. For a man that radiated such masculinity, his mouth was very sensual. She quickly turned away and stared out at the over
grown front lawn littered with sodden leaves.
“You’re so easy to read,” he said, his lips hinting at a smile when she looked over at him.
She leaned away from him. “Really? You know what I’m thinking?” This should be interesting. There was no way he could know.
“Yup,” he said with a short nod.
She raised an eyebrow, challenging him. “Okay. What am I thinking, then?”
“You’re thinking I’m a hell of a lot better looking than you remembered,” he said with a slow, cocky smile that made her burst out laughing. It reminded her of the old Quinn. The one who always teased or made her laugh. And sitting here on the veranda with him made her ache for those days. She turned her head to look at him, letting herself indulge in the fantasy that their easy conversation was still relevant to their lives today.
“Actually, I was noticing the gray hair around your temples. Are you pushing forty yet?” she asked, sitting taller, pretending to examine his head. What she didn’t add was that she found the few gray hairs very attractive, adding a sense of maturity that she didn’t remember when she last saw him. She knew his exact age and birth date, and he looked more physically fit than a man ten years younger.
Quinn leaned closer to her, and she could see the laughter in his eyes. Her heart was beating wildly as he smiled at her. “I’m only thirty-five.”
“Oh, right. We always were in different decades, weren’t we?” Holly murmured while smiling.
Quinn’s deep laugh drowned out the sound of the rain. “Yes, well, aren’t you going to be entering this geriatric decade soon?”
“I still have more than a year to prepare myself,” she answered, refusing to acknowledge that a part of her was elated that he knew her age. You’re so juvenile sometimes, Holly. She needed to end this. She had to stop flirting with him. She needed to focus on the house, get the reno done, and get out of Red River.
“There, um, may actually be mice in the house,” Holly said stiffly, changing the subject.
Quinn sighed. “I suspected as much. Don’t worry, the pest control company is one of the first people on the list this morning,” he said, taking a swig of coffee, but not before she noticed his grin.
“Good. Great, I mean. I can’t have mice scurrying everywhere when prospective buyers are looking around,” she said with a short laugh. She didn’t want him to think that she was completely petrified of the hideous little creatures that scurried around without warning. Better he thought it was just a business concern. Holly looked over at Quinn when she realized he hadn’t answered. His profile was stiff, his strong jaw tense.
He cleared his throat. “You’re selling the house?”
“Of course. I thought you knew that.” Holly felt her chest constrict.
He gave a shake of his head. “Nope. Didn’t know that. So you’re going to gut your grandparents’ house, renovate, and then sell it?”
The revulsion and censure in his voice made her stomach churn. “Yes,” she affirmed stiffly. She had to keep her temper in check.
He finally turned to look at her. “That’s a little cold, don’t you think?”
Holly felt her stomach drop. “Cold?”
He nodded, his features taught and unrelenting, as his eyes stayed focused on her. Judgment was stamped across his face as clearly as a stop sign. He had no way of knowing how torturous being here was. Wherever she walked in the house, she collided with ghosts of the people she loved most in the world. She stared into his blue eyes and wanted to tell him, but there were things too close to her heart, words too painful to ever voice aloud.
“So, do tell, Quinn. What should I do? Move back to this little town, with a baby, without a job, and live in a dilapidated old house?”
“Red River is a great place to raise a kid.”
“If you are employed.”
“Why even bother to renovate, then? Why don’t you just sell it and spare us both the misery of having to go through a renovation together?”
Holly’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, well, excuse me. I never realized I was so repulsive to be around.”
“Don’t go putting words in my mouth, Holly.”
“I believe you’re the one who said ‘misery,’ not me. And you know what else, Quinn? I’m not cold. You want to know what’s cold? How about you getting married a year after I left, after I asked you to wait for me. That’s cold,” she spat out, standing, separating herself from him.
Chapter Three
Quinn had no idea how their conversation had gotten derailed so badly. Oh, actually he did know��Holly. She had twisted everything around. Now she was standing in the damn rain looking as though she was either ready to rip his head off or cry. And, God, if he made her cry he’d never forgive himself. This isn’t what he’d wanted. As mad as he was, he didn’t want her to cry. She thought he’d left her?
He shook his head. “I don’t get you,” he said, fighting the frustration and trying to sound calm as he walked into the rain to stand directly in front of her. “You were eighteen years old, Holly. You were determined to leave. What was I going to do? I was twenty-five. I didn’t expect you to wait for me. I didn’t expect you to come back at all. And there was no way in hell I was going to stand in the way of your dreams.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head wildly. “That’s an excuse. I made it clear to you. I humiliated myself with some lame-ass attempt to seduce you—”
“Holly,” he groaned, hating that her face was red and blotchy with embarrassment.
“No, it’s true. I was this naïve eighteen-year-old that somehow thought you felt something for me, and that if I could just get you to kiss me, you wouldn’t be able to deny your feelings. But you shot me down so fast, it was obvious that it was one-sided,” she said, her voice catching as she turned her head from him.
“You’re wrong. You are so wrong,” he whispered, running his hands through his soaked hair.
“Then why did you get married a year later?”
“I don’t regret getting married,” he said grimly, and then wished he could have cut his tongue off, because the hurt infused her eyes. Her mouth dropped open and she backed away a step. The rain stood between them, a physical barrier. There had always been barriers between him and Holly. But he needed to explain what he meant. He looked into the green eyes that he’d imagined so many times in the last ten years and knew that she was a different woman than the one he’d known. But she was still Holly. And he didn’t want to hurt her. His words came out wrong. He didn’t mean to imply that he hadn’t had feelings for her, or that he hadn’t wished they could have been together.
The sound of screeching tires, followed by Claire Holbrook’s SUV barreling up the driveway at top speed, prevented Quinn from continuing. Holly had already turned around and was walking away from him toward the driveway. Quinn felt his opportunity pass as a few vans and trucks of various trades were slowing and turning down the drive. In about ten minutes this entire place would be buzzing. There wasn’t enough time to explain something that he barely understood himself. But he’d felt the impact of her pain, of the wounded expression in her eyes, right down to his gut. It hit him harder than Jake’s worst punch.
Jake was right. Back for barely a few days, and Holly Carrington was already getting to him.
…
“So, I see Quinn is here bright and early,” Claire whispered with a smug smile as Holly closed the front door.
Holly frowned. Of course Claire would be searching for something that wasn’t there. His lack of feelings toward her had made it perfectly clear they didn’t stand a chance. Cold. That was nice. She was doing the best she could. Four months ago she’d been a basket case. She had barely gotten her life back on track, and now she was being judged by the one man who still meant something to her. Which was another issue altogether. Quinn should be just another guy. A childhood crush. Okay, fine, a teenage crush. That was it. Except for the fact that he evoked even more feelings than he had when she was younger. Includ
ing anger. That was one she’d never felt toward him when she lived in Red River. She’d first felt it when she learned that he’d gotten married. But she had gotten over that. But now, seeing him judge her made her want to yell at him. And, of course, he had practically just admitted that he still had feelings for his ex-wife. Well, wonderful.
“Why do you look like you’re plotting to kill someone?” Claire asked with a worried frown.
Holly blinked a few times, trying to focus. “What? No, no, I’m just tired. And I really should go change before all the trades come barging in,” Holly said, hoping to stop that line of questioning.
Claire’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t say anything more as she took off her raincoat, gently laying it on the chair beside the door. Claire was plotting. Or thinking. Or ready to intervene. “That’s a nice jacket you’re wearing,” Claire said, her eyes narrowing into slits as they focused on Quinn’s jacket.
Holly resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She wasn’t about to give her any ammunition. “It’s raining. He gave me his coat to wear. Big deal. You know what Quinn’s like.”
“Yes. And so do you. He’s just eating up this whole damsel in distress thing like a freshly baked apple pie.”
“Okay, stop right there,” Holly began, holding up her hand. “First, I’m not in distress. Really. I know what I’m doing. I have a good job. I have a life. This isn’t some cheesy soap opera. I’m not in trouble. And I have no interest in being rescued by Quinn or anyone else. What I’m doing, I’m doing on my own. I have a baby to raise and a career to try to maintain. And just for the record, you’re wrong about Quinn. He’d run the other way.”
“Wrong! Quinn is not a man who runs.” Claire peered out the window. “Well, actually he does run. I’ve seen him jogging through town, and let me tell you, that is one hot body.” She turned and wiggled her eyebrows, smiling at Holly.
Holly covered her ears. Claire was even more stubborn than her. “Not listening.”
A Risk Worth Taking Page 4
