A Risk Worth Taking

by Victoria James

  Quinn knew his face was heating up. Right now he’d rather step on a rusty nail than have to endure Jake witnessing his humiliation. He turned to glare at his brother. His death stare must have had some effect, because Jake’s stupid grin faltered a notch or two.

  Holly pierced through the bubbles in the plastic wrap as he waited like a moron for her to answer. It was on the fifth pop that she nodded. “Are you sure you’re up for a day of shopping with a baby in tow?”

  Quinn quickly spoke before his brother had a chance to. “Nine?”

  “Sure, see you at nine.”

  “So, looks like things with Holly are strictly professional,” Jake said wryly as he merged onto the highway.

  Quinn shot him a dirty look. “They are.”

  “Funny, when I walked in the room it looked like you were ready to inhale her face.”

  “We were having a conversation,” Quinn bit back. He stared out the window pensively as his brother weaved in and out of traffic at Jake-speed.

  “About what, lipstick?”

  Quinn clenched the armrest. “Can you just drive and stop acting like a pansy?”

  “I’m sure by now you’ve told her about Christine,” Jake said, shooting him a look that showed no sign of even remotely processing what Quinn had just said.

  “Jake, why don’t you worry about yourself. Last time I got a glimpse of your love life, you were skulking out of the Stop and Drop at four a.m.,” Quinn said, reminding his brother of his own dysfunctional relationships.

  “That’s a low blow, buddy.”

  “Well, then stop talking to me about Holly, and stop mentioning my damn ex-wife.”

  “I’m just seeing if you’ve gotten over blaming yourself for what happened.”

  Quinn didn’t say anything and looked out the passenger window.

  “Quinn?”

  “It was my fault,” Quinn spat out. He hated thinking about what happened with Christine. No matter what Jake said, no matter that they’d both moved on, he’d always feel responsible.

  “It wasn’t your fault. Christine only wanted your money.”

  “Leave her alone,” Quinn said through clenched teeth.

  “Christine married you for your money. The first moment that her faith in you was tested, she failed.”

  “Either drop the damn subject or pull over so I can walk,” Quinn bit out.

  “Fine. You should still tell Holly.”

  “Shut up, Jake.”

  “Sure. You have fun tomorrow. I know how much you love shopping.”

  Quinn grabbed the door handle. It took all of his self control not to pitch himself out of the car. “Pull over, I’m walking.”

  Jake stopped grinning. “Okay, okay. Relax,” he said, turning up the volume on the stereo.

  Chapter Six

  “I cannot believe I’m at a flea market,” Quinn grumbled as he pushed Ella’s stroller around a pile of mud. Despite the morning rain that had left the grounds soppy and muddy, the market was filled with eager collectors and deal hunters.

  “I didn’t twist your arm, Quinn. You volunteered to come along,” Holly answered as she stopped at a table of kitchenware and picked up an antique tin coffee pot. She examined it as Quinn sighed loudly beside her. To her surprise, shopping with Quinn was very entertaining. He loved to tease, and he had a sharp sense of humor. She’d been excited that he had offered to come along with them, and this morning she had actually spent an extra two minutes in the shower to shave her legs. And yes, she was wearing her favorite jeans. And yes, at the last minute, when she’d looked at her muddy running shoes, she had decided to wear her cute black boots instead. But no, she was not going to acknowledge what any of that meant.

  “I thought you meant shopping at a mall. You know, like regular people do,” Quinn said, looking around.

  Holly swallowed a laugh. “Flea markets are great places to find unique things and get a deal. Besides, I want the house to have that family, country vibe going for it. A flea market is the perfect place to find that kind of stuff!” She lifted the rusty lid on the coffee pot and looked inside. It really was charming and would look great on the beadboard-backed open shelving in the kitchen. “Look at this. Doesn’t it make you think of a lone cowboy out on the prairie making himself some coffee over an open fire?”

  Quinn scowled, looking back and forth from the pot to her. “No. It makes me think it’s a rusted piece of junk that some con man is trying to sell to make a quick buck off naive people.”

  “Oh, yeah. A real con man,” Holly said, bopping her head in the direction of the frail, elderly man sitting in a lawn chair beside his merchandise. “Hold on to your wallet, Quinn, he might tackle you,” she added dryly as she approached the man with a compassionate smile.

  “Hello there, sir,” Holly said with a bright smile.

  The man sat forward in his lawn chair, his eyes squinting as he took her in. “Hello, Missy, see something you like?”

  “Well, I do like this coffee pot, but I couldn’t find a price,” Holly said, reaching across the table. She gave Quinn a see-isn’t-he-sweet look as he stood beside her with the stroller. Quinn rolled his eyes.

  Holly stiffened slightly as the man gave her a thorough once-over. “Seventy-five dollars,” he said, slapping his leg.

  Holly gasped and ignored Quinn’s snort and Ella’s cackle. Ella seemed to have taken on the role of Quinn’s sidekick.

  “Seventy-five dollars? That seems a little steep.” Holly knew that other vendors had identical ones going for around twenty-five dollars.

  The man shook his bald head, leaning back in his chair. “This is a real antique, sugar, if you knew something about antiques.”

  “Well, I do know a lot, actually.” Holly refused to look in Quinn’s direction, but she could practically feel the jubilation radiating from his body.

  “Now, sweetie, maybe if you ask your husband real nice, he can buy it for you,” the man said.

  Holly glared at the old man, who suddenly looked as greedy as an old dog stealing a steak. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Look. I don’t have to ask anyone.”

  “Oh, now, sugar, I’ll buy it for you,” Quinn said with an exaggerated drawl, putting his arm around her.

  Holly turned to glare at Quinn, but the laughter in his eyes and the mischievous grin that transformed his masculine features made her forget the man’s patronizing assumptions. Quinn’s hard body locked beside hers, and she forced herself not to think about how good he felt. She was pressed up against his side and could smell his fresh cologne. Quinn gave her shoulder a squeeze, and she shot him an aggravated look. She was never going to hear the end of this.

  “Thank you, sweetie, but I know when I’m being ripped off.” The old man shrugged and put it back on the table.

  “Nope. I wanna buy it,” Quinn said, moving away from her and picking up the coffee pot. The old man rose with the energy of a child and scurried over to the table.

  “No, you are not buying it,” Holly said, firmly taking the coffee pot from him and setting it back down on the table.

  “Yes, I am,” Quinn said, his jaw tightening as he reached for his wallet and pulled out a few bills. The man smiled.

  Holly glared at both of them. “You are not buying that for me, Quinn.”

  “Aw now, don’t be so difficult,” the man chortled.

  Holly stared in disbelief as Quinn handed the man seventy-five dollars.

  “Yeah, sweetie, stop being so difficult,” Quinn said, with an edge to his smile.

  Holly mouthed the word bastard to Quinn.

  He burst out laughing, then picked up the coffee pot again.

  “Here. It’s a gift,” Quinn said sharply, shoving the coffee pot in her direction.

  “I don’t need you to buy—”

  “It’s a piece of tin, not a diamond.”

  “Oh, well, when you put it so nicely—”

  “Take the damn pot, Holly. Seeing as I’m so old anyway, it may be my last gif
t to you.” Quinn’s eyes locked onto hers as he shoved the coffee pot into her hands.

  “Thank you,” she said stiffly.

  “You’re welcome,” he replied, and she saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

  “I never knew you were such a romantic,” she said, placing the pot in the compartment under the stroller.

  “Well, maybe if you’d stop being so difficult, you could see that I really am a romantic at heart,” he said, his voice thick with laughter. Holly paused. What was that supposed to mean? She rose to meet his gaze, but thankfully he wasn’t even looking at her.

  He was busy playing peek-a-boo with Ella.

  …

  “I’m starved. Is there anywhere to eat at this junk festival?” Quinn asked two hours later. He was watching as Holly tried to cram a bag containing an antique quilt with farm animals and flowers into the packed storage compartment under the stroller. She said she was going to hang it in Ella’s bedroom when they got back home. By “home,” she meant Toronto, and that put him in a foul mood. He tried to shake it off. She was infuriating and intoxicating.

  He was surprised to find that Holly was such a romantic. After walking around with her and having her explain the relevance of items he would have normally overlooked, he could see why they appealed to her. She was a dreamer and liked imagining the stories behind the pieces she found. She had spent a good ten minutes oohing and ahhing over a vintage drafting table, and when he’d offered to buy it for her, she’d vehemently refused. He knew there was no way she’d accept his offer, so he didn’t bother asking again.

  As much as her independence irritated him, he understood it—and admired her for it. It also made him think of his ex, who had always relied on him for everything. Hell, everyone relied on him. Except, Ella and Holly made all of it seem so easy. Ella made him forget everything he’d done wrong—she made him think that she could be his second chance. And Holly, well…Holly was becoming difficult to ignore on every single level.

  “Me, too. They’re serving food over there,” Holly said and pointed to the large white tent with flags that read FOOD, DRINK, DESSERT in bold red print. People were walking in and out with trays of food.

  “You’re going to eat in a tent?” He glanced at the plastic chairs and tables and then back at Holly.

  Holly turned and put her hands on her hips, frowning up at him. Quinn let his eyes flicker over her body. Very, very nice. Being around her was torture—sweet torture. All he wanted to do was kiss her. But the thought of kissing her led to thoughts of making love to her, which made it impossible to concentrate.

  “You’re very funny,” she muttered as she pushed the stroller toward the tent. He gave her cute backside one last look before catching up to her.

  “This smells good,” he said, standing beside her in line. The sweet aroma of smoky barbecue greeted them and his stomach growled. They read the menu on a large white board above the cashier station.

  “What do you feel like?” he asked, bending down to speak close to her ear. God, she smelled good, like springtime mixed with pure woman. He straightened up before he was tempted to kiss the fragrant skin he’d been so close to. The crowd was loud and boisterous. Ella joined in the noise, squealing and pointing to baked goods that were on display, her stroller jostling with the movement.

  “I don’t know. Coffee and a barbecue chicken sandwich?”

  “Sounds good to me. Why don’t you and Ella go find a table and I’ll bring the food over.” The look in her eyes said she was about to argue with him. He didn’t even have a remote idea of what he’d just said that could cause her to object.

  “Well—”

  “Does everything have to be a debate with you?”

  She raised her eyebrows, her hand flying to her chest. “Me?”

  He nodded. “Yes. You.”

  “Of course not. Fine. We’ll go sit. Let me give you some money—”

  So that was it. “You are not going to give me five dollars for a sandwich and a coffee, okay? Tomorrow, you can buy me something that’s worth five dollars, and then the world will be right again, and you’ll be able to sleep at night, okay?”

  She shook her head. “That’s not it at all—you already overpaid for that coffee pot, I thought—”

  “Can you just let me get lunch?” She stared at him for a long moment, and he realized this was the first woman he’d ever met who actually didn’t expect him to pay for something.

  “Fine, thank you. I brought some food for Ella, but maybe she’d like a muffin,” she said, peering at the display of baked goods stacked in a wire basket.

  Quinn nodded, relieved that this wasn’t going to become a long, drawn-out argument.

  Holly turned the stroller and then stopped. “Oh, and ask if it’s all-natural—”

  “Go,” Quinn groaned.

  She nodded, and he actually thought she was going to leave. “Just make sure there’s no hydrogenated—”

  “Seriously? Can you just get a table?”

  She frowned and then pushed the stroller away in search of a table. Quinn made a mental note to ask the cashier whether or not the muffins had hydrogenated oil and if they were all-natural.

  …

  “What is with the weather this fall?” Holly asked, looking out the window of her SUV. They were on their way back to Red River after what had to be the best day she’d had in a long, long time. Just as they were packing up the car, a downpour hit. The rainstorm was so violent that they could barely see the pavement in front of them. Luckily the country roads weren’t heavily trafficked.

  “I know. I heard we’ve broken records.” Quinn was driving in case she needed to take care of Ella on the hour-long drive home. “I like your car,” he said as he toyed with the radio before shutting it off.

  “Thanks—it’s for show, really,” she said with a slight smile. Right now, work and Toronto felt so far away. For a second—and not for the first time today—she imagined that this was what her life could be like. That Quinn could be the man in her and Ella’s life, that they could be their own family. It felt good to have Quinn here, to be bundled in the car with him beside her, making her feel warm and safe. She blinked away the emotion in her eyes. Thoughts like that were dangerous. Dreams that relied on other people had never panned out for her, and she wasn’t strong enough to lose again.

  Holly stared straight ahead as the windshield wipers frantically swished across the window. The rain was coming down so hard that even at the fastest setting, the windshield filled with rain faster than the wipers could clear it. Yet there wasn’t even the smallest doubt in her mind that Quinn would get them home safely.

  “Thank you for coming with us,” Holly whispered, shooting him a sideward glance. She felt a jolt of excitement as he broke into a wide smile.

  “I had a nice time, too. It felt good to get away from work for a day,” he said as he merged the SUV onto the old country highway.

  “Is this a busy time of year for your company?” Holly asked, wanting to know more about how he’d grown the business.

  He nodded. “It’s just a lot of timing issues right now. We’re sort of in a race against the clock. We have a condo project going up, and that foundation needs to be poured before winter hits, but the crazy rain this fall has slowed everything down. If the weather eases up a bit, we’ll have to push ahead. I’m just waiting for that break.”

  “Well, at least when my place is done you’ll have some free time,” Holly said with a forced laugh. She knew he’d been going above and beyond for her. Really, dealing with mouse issues in her house was the last thing he needed to be wasting time on.

  “There’s something I’ve wanted to tell you,” he said with a rough sigh. Her mouth went dry at his tone and the sudden tension that infused his body. “What happened that first morning—you’re wrong, Holly,” he said in a low voice, quickly turning to look into her eyes. She didn’t expect him to explain anything to her. It had hung between them, but Holly had never brought it up again
, because she knew that would be like opening a can of worms. “You couldn’t be further from the truth in thinking I’m still in love with Christine. I’m not. I never was. We got married because I felt we had to, not because I wanted to,” he said, his expression grim.

  Holly’s heart constricted. He wasn’t in love with Christine? He never was? She didn’t say anything as she clenched her hands in her lap. This shouldn’t matter. Those words shouldn’t matter. When he turned to look at her, his blue eyes had darkened—and just as they had ten years earlier, they reminded her of the pure, indigo night sky of the open country.

  Holly swallowed past the cowardice constricting her throat. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

  His jaw tightened. “I was never in love with her,” he said, his voice barely above a low whisper, his eyes focused on the road ahead. Every second that ticked by kept her immobilized in the realization that he’d never loved Christine.

  She licked her lips, feeling her mouth go dry. “Oh.”

  “And I want to make you understand, but I don’t know if I can.” His voice was a delicious, deep whisper.

  “Okay,” she said finally, not sure if he was going to continue.

  “Okay, then,” he repeated, jaw tight.

  Holly cleared her throat. “So, you’re not in love with Christine.”

  He shook his head and turned quickly, his eyes falling to her lips before they focused on the road again.

  Holly swallowed hard. “And you never were.”

  He shook his head again.

  Holly took a deep breath, unable to stop herself from repeating the facts, reminding herself of why she could not let this go. “But you did sleep with her. Right after I left. Right after we kissed. After you told me you had feelings for me, too.”

  His jaw clenched, and for a second Holly thought he was going to justify or deny. But Quinn wasn’t the type of guy who lied and made excuses. “Yup, I did. But I also told you that you were too young. You were eighteen and you left. I never believed that you would really come back.”

  The admission hung between them, and Holly felt the sting of it in her heart. She tried to look braver and stronger than she felt. A part of her wanted to remind him, and herself, that none of this should matter. Who Quinn had been with, who he was with now, was completely irrelevant. She blinked a few times and finally got the words out. “I would have,” she whispered, tears clogging her throat. “I guess this is all irrelevant now, since I’m leaving in five weeks, anyway. But I guess I still don’t get why you married someone you didn’t love?”