A Risk Worth Taking

by Victoria James

  “Window guys? I didn’t know the window company was here,” Holly said, trying to focus on their professional relationship.

  “Remember, I told you I booked them for those basement windows? I saw their truck outside. Jake said he let them in a while ago,” he added, glancing down at his phone.

  Right. Holly nodded slowly. He had mentioned that. But ugly little windows in the unfinished basement hadn’t made her list of must-do renovation items. There was also the matter of the countertop company due to arrive at any moment to take measurements for the counter she had just changed her mind about. Both items would certainly spark an argument with Quinn.

  Holly concentrated on the blueberry stains on the highchair and tried to ignore how adorable Ella looked nestled in Quinn’s big arms. And how capable Quinn was with her, and how his face had lit up when he spoke to Ella. Holly sighed. “Yeah, I do remember seeing Jake walking toward the basement an hour or so ago. I was so busy with Ella that I didn’t really pay any attention. I have the counter company due any minute,” Holly said, clearing the remains of Ella’s snack and tossing them into the garbage.

  “They here to do the template?” Quinn asked as he tossed Ella into the air and caught her.

  Holly gasped as Quinn threw Ella into the air again. Ella squealed with delight as he effortlessly caught her again. “I don’t think that’s very safe,” Holly said, crossing her arms.

  “I got her Holly. Trust me,” he said, his voice softening as he looked into her eyes. Holly looked from him to Ella. Ella was poking him on the shoulder with a slobbery grin on her face. Holly forced herself to nod. She had seen people do this before and never witnessed a parent drop their child. Trust me, he said. Ella certainly did.

  “Hi there,” a voice called from the kitchen doorway. It was the men from the stone company.

  “Hey, Brad,” Quinn said, extending his hand.

  “Good to see you, Quinn,” the man said. “You, too, Holly.”

  “Hi, Brad,” Holly said, spotting the rectangular sample of quartzite in his hand. She needed to get Quinn out of the room before he noticed it wasn’t granite.

  “So, you guys still on track to install this thing for next week?” Quinn asked, settling Ella on his hip. Holly wrung her hands together. Quinn needed to stop asking so many questions. Ella stared up at Quinn, listening intently as he spoke.

  “Yes. John is just getting the equipment out of the car,” he said, setting the stone sample on the table. Holly quickly walked over to it, hoping to hide it under the other samples and swatches of fabric and paint. She stifled a squeal of delight as she looked at the sample. It was gorgeous. She quickly buried it under a swatch of silk.

  Quinn walked up and Holly pretended to organize the items on the table. She stood completely still as his large hand plucked the white silk away and tossed it aside. A waft of his aftershave floated toward her with the fabric and Holly’s toes curled. How was it possible that even though he’d been working and sweating, he could smell so good?

  “That’s not the granite we chose last week,” he said in a low voice, giving her a long look, inadvertently reminding her that she shouldn’t be focusing on how delicious the man smelled. He was trying to control her renovation.

  Holly straightened. “That’s true. After we left the supplier’s, I questioned whether or not granite was the way I wanted to go,” she said, tapping her chin, trying to look casual as Quinn’s frown deepened. “I’m not a fan of granite. Never have been. In fact, I never source granite for any of my clients—it’s always marble or quartzite.”

  “That’s great for your clients, but this isn’t a project for Martin Laurence. This is a renovation in a rural area. Quartzite is way more expensive, Holly. A prospective buyer around here isn’t going to pay more for the house because of quartz.”

  “I know that,” Holly snapped.

  “Then why would you put it in a house that you’re flipping?”

  Holly swallowed hard as she stared into his blue eyes. She glanced over at Brad, who was now setting up the digital template equipment with his partner. What was she going to say? How did she justify blowing several extra thousand dollars when she had spent every day insisting they stay on budget? She loved the look of this stone, but there was more to it than that. She didn’t want to tell him that this slab of quartzite was almost identical to the marble countertop her grandmother had loved and circled from one of their magazine clippings.

  “I think it’s a signature design statement,” she said stiffly.

  “More like a signature bad decision, if you ask me,” he said, shifting Ella to his other arm. “Stupid move,” he said with a shake of his head. “Exactly what I’d expect from a designer,” he muttered under his breath.

  “That’s so rude,” she said, reaching out for Ella. Ella shook her head and buried it into Quinn’s neck. Holly resisted the urge to stamp her foot. Was no one on her side? “Why do you care so much, anyway? This is my renovation.”

  “Well, I am the one running this operation, and the one who has to listen to your daily budget reminders.”

  “I happen to know you contractors—”

  “Not a contractor, Holly,” Quinn said, his perfect jaw tightening.

  “Details, details,” Holly said with a wave of her arm.

  “Quinn, you in here?” Quinn muttered something under his breath, then turned in the direction of the voice. Two men filled the doorway.

  “Hey, Rich, Peter, come on in,” Quinn said, introducing Holly. Holly’s stomach tightened. Why were all these people here, now, with Quinn around?

  “So what do you think of those basement windows I mentioned?” Quinn asked, looking a little too confident. He knew exactly what they were going to say.

  “Yeah, they gotta come out for sure,” Peter said, nodding his head.

  “Those windows have been here for years. Do they have to come out now?” Holly asked, ignoring Quinn’s I-told-you-so stare.

  “You’re kind of playing with fire if they don’t. All it takes is one big storm, and you could end up with a hell of a lot of flooding,” he said, pulling out a paper with a written estimate.

  Quinn sang a little mmm hmm under his breath and Holly’s muscles tensed at the smug sound. “How much are we talking?” Quinn asked.

  Peter handed him the quote. Holly quickly glanced at the bottom of the sheet for the final number. Her mouth went dry. It was almost the exact same number as the cost of the counters.

  “How fast can you get this done?” Quinn asked, looking up from the quote to Peter.

  “If I decide to get this done,” Holly interjected, plucking the paper from his hand.

  Richard and Peter looked at Quinn. “We can put a rush on it and have them installed before next weekend.”

  “Great. Well, once I decide, I can give you a call,” Holly said, ushering them toward the door.

  “We’ll be calling you later today,” Quinn said, completely contradicting her.

  Holly turned to glare at him once the men had left. “I’m not deciding this right now,” she said.

  “You have to fix those windows,” he said, frowning at her.

  “We’ll see,” she said. He shook his head, his blue eyes glittering. Even angry, Quinn looked good. She needed to get him to leave.

  “You must be busy. I appreciate you coming by, but no need to stay on my account,” Holly said, reaching for Ella. This time, her niece finally decided to come to her. Holly hugged her tightly.

  “I thought we could talk,” he said, his tone softening slightly. Dangerously. It made her remember their chicken conversation. She was not going there.

  “I don’t think there’s anything to talk about. I’ve got what? A few weeks left here?”

  His jaw twitched and he didn’t break her stare. She had hoped he’d stalk off, but instead he took a step closer.

  “And Mrs. Jacobs is on her way over,” Holly blurted out. She breathed an inward sigh of relief as panic shot across Quinn’s face.
She knew Quinn was not the type to appreciate the elderly woman’s intrusion.

  “Seriously?” he asked, backing up a step.

  Holly nodded frantically. “Yup. Staying the whole afternoon. We’re going to have a nice visit.”

  Quinn gave her a long look. One that started at the top of her head and then traveled her body at a rather leisurely pace until his eyes met hers again. “I think we both know you’re the chicken, Holly,” he said, before turning and walking out of the room. Holly held her breath until she heard the front door swing shut.

  Holly paced back and forth between her flooded basement and the front door. She clutched her phone while she waited for Quinn to arrive. Less than half an hour ago, when she was heading into the basement to store some boxes, she’d been greeted by at least a foot of water flooding the basement floor.

  It was the last thing she needed right now. Just last week, she’d proudly told Quinn that basement windows weren’t a priority. What were the odds that the basement would flood? She had no idea how extensive the damage was going to be. There was still the remote chance that the windows weren’t the reason there was a swimming pool in the basement. Maybe the water was leaking from the foundation… Of course, by texting Quinn and telling him there was an emergency at the house, she was playing into the whole damsel in distress image—and it drove her nuts. But she knew if she even attempted to deal with this mystery flooding without contacting him, he’d be livid. They were already on shaky ground. She felt guilty for even asking him to come over so late, especially since she’d heard Jake say earlier that Quinn was busy doing damage control on one of their condominium projects that had been flooded as well. But Quinn replied to her text less than two minutes later, saying he’d be right over.

  The house had been buzzing with trades all day, even though it was a Saturday. There wasn’t a room in the whole house that hadn’t had someone working in it. The renovation was ahead of schedule, which was an absolute miracle. The kitchen had been installed, and even her prize quartzite counters had come in today. All that was needed was the backsplash and finishing touches, and the kitchen would be done. So far, she and Ella only had to stay at Claire’s house a few nights, mostly during the sanding and floor refinishing. But since Holly had used only environmentally friendly paints and products, it had been safe to live in the house during most of the renovation. The master bedroom was completely finished. She’d hung the white silk curtains today, and was dreaming of relaxing in freshly washed cotton sheets on the four-poster bed tonight. After taking a long, hot bath in the new deep-soaker, stand-alone tub.

  Claire and her parents had been looking after Ella for the day. Claire had just called to say that she’d keep Ella overnight because of the storm, which was good considering Holly would be dealing with the basement flooding. It would be their first night apart, but Holly trusted Claire completely. She couldn’t think of any one of her friends back in Toronto that she’d feel comfortable leaving Ella with—not that any of them would even offer. She had to admit that having the entire day without having to care for Ella had helped her get through a mountain of work. But it also made her aware of how much she missed Ella, and that terrified her. Since returning to Red River, she had spent every waking moment with her niece. She loved the way Ella cuddled up against her, the smile that she gave Holly every single morning when she went into her room. Of course she had loved Ella as soon as she’d been born, but things were changing. Emotions were stronger, harder to ignore. Everything was changing now that they were back here, and it was Holly—and not the nanny—who was Ella’s constant companion.

  The fall storm was pounding the house with rain and hail. The wind was howling, and dusk was setting in with a sense of foreboding. Holly sat on the basement stairs and stared at the water again. She jumped as the front door opened.

  Quinn.

  “Hi,” she called out, rushing to the front door. Her stomach fluttered at the sight of Quinn in his jeans and damp, fitted white T-shirt. As she walked toward him though, she noticed how tired he looked. It was eight o’clock at night, for crying out loud, and she knew his day must have been grueling.

  “Hey, Holly,” he said, taking off his boots, barely looking at her as he followed her through the house, work boots in hand.

  “Where’s the problem?” he asked.

  “Huge flood in the basement,” she said, biting her lip.

  He threw his head back briefly and groaned, then marched on past her, bounding down the old stairs two at a time. She watched silently as he stopped on the bottom step and yanked on his boots before trudging through the water. She stopped hesitantly halfway down the stairs.

  “What are you doing?” she called out, feeling bad that she wasn’t helping.

  “Looking for the source of the flooding.” His back was still to her as he looked around the basement.

  “Oh,” she said, feeling completely useless. “Can I help?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He waded across the basement floor and examined a window.

  Holly held her breath. Please don’t let it be the windows, please don’t let it be the windows…

  Quinn cursed and then hoisted himself up to look at the small window. “Here it is,” he mumbled as he did something to the glass.

  She couldn’t quite see what he was doing. She was busy trying to fight the rush of desire she felt at the sight of his muscles straining against his T-shirt as he hoisted himself up onto the window ledge. Clearly, she had been spending too much time in the city, where men were covered up in slick suits and didn’t spend all day working with their hands, using their muscles…

  “Holly, you listening?” He looked irritated, judging by his formidable stance in the middle of the room.

  “Sorry, I didn’t catch that last bit,” Holly stammered, tearing her eyes away from the long, lean lines of his jeans.

  Quinn shook his head and walked toward her. “I said, I’ve got to get outside and see what I can do to keep the water from seeping through those windows.”

  He walked back to the stairs, and Holly held her breath. He paused abruptly on his way up the steps and pulled his wet boots off. “Didn’t the window guys say they’d install the windows this week?” he asked, his eyes narrowing in on her.

  She didn’t say anything. Uh-oh.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Well?”

  She looked at Quinn’s thunderous expression, his wet jeans and shirt, and thought this might not be the best time to test the man’s patience. “I believe in order for them to install the windows, I would have actually had to order them,” she said, biting her lip. She watched the veins in his neck stand at attention. One of them sort of looked like it might snap free like a violin string. He shut his eyes for a moment, then stalked past her toward the back door. She could swear she heard him grumble something about designers. “It was a tough call to make. I thought I made the right decision. And, um, I’ve got the Realtor coming over tomorrow, and I just—”

  “What?” he said, standing with his hand on the doorknob. Those veins in his neck looked ready to pop again.

  “You know, the Realtor, to list the house? I’d hate for her to see the basement all flooded.”

  Quinn opened his mouth, looked at her a second longer, and then shut it. He whipped open the back door and a gust of wind tore through the room.

  “Quinn, put a jacket on at least!”

  He slammed the door shut against the wind. “It was a stupid move, Holly. Your decision to have quartzite countertops over new basement windows just cost you a couple of grand in water damage,” he said, pulling on his boots.

  “Well, a prospective buyer would be more likely to look at a kitchen closely than at a basement,” she said, her words trailing off ever so slightly when it looked like his head was about to pop off his neck.

  He was a force to be reckoned with when he was angry, all hard lines and hot masculine energy. Hot, masculine energy. What was wrong with her?

  “Really? Well, if
I were buying a house, the first place I’d look is the basement,” he said, “especially if I knew some hot-shot designer had done the reno to make a quick buck.” And with those lovely parting words, he stormed outside.

  Ouch. How was she supposed to know this would happen? And there was no way flooding in an unfinished basement would cost that much.

  She did feel bad, though. Quinn had been here every day, going over and above for her. She knew he was tired and worn out, and now she had added to it. Between her place and his other responsibilities, he’d been pushing too hard. She walked to the French doors and peered through the glass. The rain was coming down sideways in the strong wind. The remaining fall leaves had been completely stripped from the trees and flew around the yard angrily.

  Quinn was going to be soaked. And mad. She hovered, occasionally peeking out the window for any sign of him.

  Coffee. He would want coffee. She heard banging and cursing below the kitchen window as she brewed a pot.

  Towels. She should get him some towels. She ran upstairs and took a couple of large, fluffy white towels from the newly staged linen closet in the hallway.

  She paused on the second step from the bottom of the staircase as Quinn walked in, sopping wet, and pulled off his boots on the front rug.

  He looked angry. And very, very delicious. She really shouldn’t be relishing in the sight of him. After all, he must be freezing in those wet clothes that were clinging to the powerful lines of his tall, strong body.

  She was so going to Hell.

  “Are you going to hand me one of those towels, or just tease me with the sight of them?” he snapped. Quinn rarely lost his cool. Right now, he was looking very, very close to losing it.

  She pursed her lips with disapproval but walked over and handed him a towel.

  “Thanks,” he grumbled as he toweled off his hair.

  “Sorry, Quinn,” she said reluctantly. She wasn’t sorry about the quartzite counters, but she did feel bad that he had to deal with her mistake. He stopped drying his hair and looked into her eyes, the silence between them deafening as the wind and rain recklessly beat against the windows and roof.