Sugar And Spice (Holidays: Valentine)

by Charlotte French

  Crissy squirmed for a moment, but then her mind started to drift with the possibilities. He did have a point. She could double her productivity without factoring in every other batch being burned or so undercooked that they were inedible.

  “Maybe…” she hedged.

  Quinn moved across the aisle to the most basic stove available, small, humble, modest.

  “One baking sheet. One temperature. Very few cookies. You have an entire fire station only a few blocks away from you and we require a lot of sustenance.”

  Crissy couldn’t help the small laugh that spilled into her voice as her protests grew weaker.

  “Quinn, I’ve been providing cookies for the fire station for years on one crappy oven,” she said.

  Quinn groaned and pulled his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans.

  “I hate to do this,” he said. “But I’m throwing down my trump card. I’m calling Amy. You’re busted now.”

  “What? No, Quinn, you don’t have to do that. Besides, I already know what she would say.”

  “So you’ll get the better stove?”

  When she didn’t answer right away, he started dialing.

  “I didn’t think so,” he said.

  “How do you know Amy’s number anyway?” she demanded.

  “I don’t. I’m calling the shop.”

  “Tattletale,” she said with a scowl. “Give me that.”

  She made a grab for the phone but Quinn was a full head and a half taller than she was and he held it out of reach easily.

  “Oh no you don’t,” he said, laughing as she tried to jump for the phone.

  She tugged on his arm in an attempt to pull him down to her level. But Quinn raised his arm further, bringing her up on her tiptoes. As he twisted away, she lost her balance and wrapped her arms around his waist for support, her cheek pressed to his back. They were both laughing now as they wrestled for control of the phone.

  “Ahem.”

  Crissy froze. A stern, thin woman in a Sears t-shirt stood glaring at them disapprovingly. She crossed her arms. Crissy straightened, pulling her coat into place again. Quinn tucked his phone back in his pocket and managed a quick smile.

  “Sorry ma’am,” he said. “Just having a bit of a disagreement.”

  “This isn’t a playground,” the woman growled.

  “No ma’am.”

  The woman stared at them hard for a full minute more before she stalked off. Crissy burst into giggles and Quinn tried his best to stifle his laughter but she could see his shoulders shaking with laughter.

  “Fine,” she said at last. “You win. I’m starving and I still have to get a new saucepan after my favorite one got charred in the fire. Let’s get that stove already.”

  “Thank god,” Quinn sighed. “I didn’t really know the shop’s number.”

  Crissy gasped. “So you lied!”

  “Bluffing!”

  Crissy held out her hand. “Give me your phone.”

  Quinn cast a sideways glance at her. She wiggled her fingers. He groaned and slapped his phone into her palm. She punched in a few numbers then handed it back.

  “What did you do?” he asked.

  “I put the shop’s number into your contact’s list,” she said. Then, after a pause, she added. “And I might have put my cell number in as well. But I could be bluffing on that last part.”

  ***

  After lunch at a local café, Crissy and Quinn bought coffee and went for a walk despite the cold, as an excuse to draw the day out a little longer. A sharp gust of wind rose up, nipping at their faces, and Crissy leaned forward, head bowed in an effort to hide from it as best she could. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Quinn reach towards her then hesitate and draw his hand back again. But this time, she didn’t let him get away with it.

  “Why do you keep doing that?” she asked.

  Quinn glanced at her, a flicker of panic in his eyes. “Doing what?”

  “You act like you’re going to touch me, or you do touch me by accident, and then you recoil like I burned you or something.”

  He stared down at his coffee, silent. Crissy waited.

  “I don’t want to…make you uncomfortable,” he said. “I’ve always rushed head long into things, consequences be damned.”

  Crissy took his elbow and pulled him to a stop.

  “Quinn, when I said I wanted to take things slow, I didn’t mean that slow.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. And if we get going a little too fast, I’ll tell you. It’s…I have to get used to things here, too.”

  Quinn nodded. After a beat of silence passed, Crissy slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and kissed his shoulder. She smiled up at him.

  “Okay?” she whispered.

  Quinn tightened his elbow into his side, squeezing her hand against his ribs. He brushed his thumb over her chin and smiled back.

  “Okay,” he said.

  Crissy and Quinn walked until they were shivering and numb from the cold before they finally returned to Quinn’s truck and started the drive home. It was well after dark by the time Quinn dropped Crissy off.

  “Thank you for today,” she said.

  He reached across the seat and lightly took her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles.

  “I’ll bring some of the guys around tomorrow and get that stove installed,” he said. “If that’s good with you.”

  Crissy nodded. “I have an entire fire station to provide sustenance for. The faster I can get back to work, the better.”

  Quinn chuckled and squeezed her hand one last time before he climbed out of the truck and opened the passenger door for her. He hunched his shoulders against the cold, waiting to make sure she got inside safely before he returned to his truck.

  As Crissy reached the door, she turned around.

  “Wait,” she said.

  She hurried back to him as fast as she dared to in the snow, slid her fingers around the back of his neck and rose up on tiptoe to kiss him. Quinn’s inhibition vanished as he melted against her, wrapping his arms around her waist, exactly as Crissy had hoped he would.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  There were three firefighters at Crissy’s door the next morning – Quinn, Pete, and a third man she didn’t recognize, with a shock of dark hair and ice blue eyes. Quinn shook the snow from his coat and stomped his feet before stepping inside when she opened the door for them. He tugged his scarf free and smiled at her, so familiar and warm and comfortable that Crissy couldn’t help but smile back.

  “Good morning,” he said, his voice low for only her to hear. He hooked an arm around her waist and ducked his head to press a chilled kiss to her lips.

  Pete sighed noisily behind them. Quinn broke away, his gaze roaming over Crissy’s face for a moment before he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Got something to say, Pete?” he asked without looking away from Crissy.

  “Sure do, buddy,” Pete replied. “People eat here. You’re being unsanitary.”

  Quinn rolled his eyes. Crissy stifled a laugh in his coat lapel. He brushed his thumb over her chin – a habit she was quickly getting used to – before he turned around.

  “Crissy, this is one of my coworkers, Stephen Almeida. Stephen, this is Crissy.”

  Stephen nodded and shook her hand. “You’ve become a bit of a legend at the station after the Valentine’s Day party.”

  A warm blush crept up her neck and into her cheeks at the attention. Quinn covered for her.

  “I told him there would be food as payment,” he said. “He’s been hanging around Pete so long, he couldn’t let that opportunity pass him by. All right, boys, let’s get that stove off the truck already.”

  He brushed a brief kiss to the top of Crissy’s head before he slipped out the door. Amy came bounding down the stairs from Crissy’s room, pulling her long dark hair into a ponytail.

  “Your bathroom is always so much more organized than mine,” she said as she came up alongside C
rissy. “The ponytail bands were so neat and tidy in the drawer, I found them right away which never happens in my apartment. I should pay you to clean up my bathroom. Not that it would stay that way for more than five minutes.”

  “I’ve seen your bathroom,” Crissy said, watching Quinn, Pete, and Stephen wrestle the stove off the back of the truck. “You couldn’t pay me enough. And I know your salary too. It’ll only get thinner the more kids you have.”

  “Pleasant thought.” Amy edged closer to Crissy to peer over her shoulder out the door as well. “Oooh. Now there’s a nice view to get the day started.”

  Crissy swatted at Amy’s arm. “Shush. I’ve already blushed once. I don’t need any more of that, thank you.”

  “It only makes you cuter, lil’ peach.”

  “Coffee. Now.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  Amy busied herself behind the counter as she got the coffee started. Crissy pulled the door open as Quinn, Pete, and Stephen hauled the stove inside, around the counter, and into the kitchen. Crissy waited at the threshold of the kitchen, doing her best to be available if help was needed while at the same time, staying out of the way.

  Quinn stripped off his coat and began to set it on the counter but Crissy took it from him instead. He caught her hand and gave her fingers a grateful squeeze before Crissy accepted Pete’s and Stephen’s coats as well.

  “Stephen,” Quinn said, returning to the work. “You’re in charge of the electricity. Breaker panel’s in that cabinet.”

  Crissy stepped back to watch. Pete fished a few penlights from his back pocket and handed them out. Right before Stephen cut the power, Quinn swore under his breath.

  “What is it?” Pete asked.

  “Left my tools in the damn truck.”

  Quinn strode out of the kitchen. As soon as he was out of sight, Crissy heard a surprised gasp and Amy apologizing profusely. Crissy leaned out of the kitchen to see the front of Quinn’s t-shirt dripping wet with coffee. Amy was wiping at Quinn’s shirt with a handful of paper towels.

  “I am so, so sorry,” she said, dabbing at his chest.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “No harm done.”

  “I’ll go get it dry. It’s the least I can do.”

  “That’s really not necessary.”

  “You can’t go out there wearing wet clothes. You’ll freeze. Take it off. I won’t be longer than a few minutes anyway.”

  Quinn hesitated and almost looked ready to argue the point further, but then he seemed to decide against it and peeled his t-shirt off.

  Crissy’s face flamed. For a split second, she stared. She’d seen him in t-shirts before, clingy t-shirts that left very little to the imagination, but now there was skin where fabric had been.

  Then she felt her stomach tightening, her heartbeat racing against her rib cage, and her gaze darted down to her hands.

  And Pete and Stephen were doing a terrible job of hiding their snickering.

  “Pete,” Quinn called.

  Pete poked his head out and without missing a beat, said, “I always knew deep down you wanted to be a Chippendale, Q.”

  Amy choked and took off up the stairs to Crissy’s room. Quinn narrowed his eyes at Pete and he glowered.

  “Would you be kind enough to get my tools?” he said.

  Pete screwed one eye up in thought. “But it’s cold out there and…”

  Quinn raised his eyebrows. Pete skirted past him and out the door. It took Pete thirty seconds to retrieve the tools, the longest thirty seconds of Crissy’s life as she tried her best to not stare at Quinn, to ignore the way her entire body was practically vibrating from the fact that his impossibly smooth, warm skin was within touching distance.

  Pete returned and handed the tools off to Quinn. He squeezed past her into the kitchen again and set to work on the stove, his bare back facing her. Amy crept down the stairs, without Quinn’s shirt, Crissy noticed, and peered into the kitchen.

  “Feast your eyes, my friend,” she whispered. “You totally owe me.”

  Crissy hiccuped. “You spilled that coffee on purpose?!”

  “Well…yeah. Duh. You have known me all your life, sugar.”

  “Oh my god, Amy, I’m going to kill you,” Crissy hissed.

  Amy darted back up the stairs, laughing, before Crissy could carry out her threat.

  It took an hour for Quinn, Pete, and Stephen to get her stove up and running. And during all that time, Amy managed to draw out drying Quinn’s shirt in front of a battery operated space heater, allowing Crissy to take full advantage of watching him unabashed for one whole hour.

  Quinn flipped the stove on, fiddled with knobs and dials, testing each burner, testing the oven. Amy returned with Quinn’s shirt neatly folded, clean and dry in one hand, a tray of coffees balanced in the other hand. She pressed her shoulder into Crissy’s.

  “Crissy,” she said, tipping her head closer while she watched Quinn work. “If you don’t get your hands all over that…” She paused, looked Crissy dead in the eye. “I’m never speaking to you again. Even though I love you very dearly. So don’t be stupid. And no excuses.”

  Crissy’s mouth dropped open and she started to protest but Amy beat her to it.

  “Quinn!” she said, stepping forward and holding his shirt out to him. “There might be a little staining but it’s dry and warm. Again, I’m so sorry.”

  Quinn tugged his shirt on with relief.

  “Who wants caffeine?” Amy asked.

  ***

  Crissy herded everyone out of the kitchen to make the promised payment of fresh brownies but as Quinn started to leave, she caught the tail of his shirt and pulled him back.

  “You can stay,” she whispered. “Don’t tell Amy.”

  Quinn faced the counter next to her, his elbow brushing against hers. “So what can I do to help?”

  She pulled out ingredients from the cabinets, setting them on the counter.

  “You’ve already done more than enough,” she replied. “Just sit there and relax.”

  Quinn drummed his hands on the counter, looking like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. So Crissy had pity on him. She handed him a carton of eggs and a bowl.

  “I need six eggs, beaten,” she said.

  “Yes ma’am,” he said with a smile.

  He reached for the eggs but she snatched them back.

  “There’s an apron in that top drawer on your right,” she said.

  Quinn’s mouth hung open slightly. “You’re kidding…right?”

  “Just part of working in the kitchen. Do you have something against aprons?”

  “No, not at all. Just as long as Pete isn’t around.”

  He tugged the apron out of the drawer and stared at it in his hands for a moment.

  “It’s very pink,” he said.

  Crissy bit her lip to keep from laughing as she took the apron from him and pulled it over his head.

  “It’s not supposed to be a fashion statement,” she said. “Just keeps the food from staining your clothes.”

  She pulled back, looking him over. The apron was more than a little small on him, hitched up around his chest, and it really was very pink. But Quinn shrugged and held his hand out for the carton of eggs.

  Crissy and Quinn fell into a surprisingly easy rhythm, sometimes not talking, sometimes jostling each other and laughing. Crissy was used to having the kitchen to herself and with Quinn’s broad shoulders taking up so much room, there was even less space for her to move around. But that just gave her an excuse to nudge him and trail her fingers over his arm or his hand or bump his hip as much as she liked. And Quinn would bump back with a sideways glance out of the corner of his eye.

  Crissy finished up the brownies and stuck them in the oven then handed the batter-covered spoon to Quinn.

  “After all your hard work over the past two days, you certainly deserve to lick the spoon,” she said.

  Quinn accepted it, swiped a finger-full of batter, but before he could put it in h
is mouth, Crissy caught his wrist. She stepped forward until her hips were pressed against his, slipped her other hand around his waist, and sucked the batter from his finger. She smothered a smirk when Quinn’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch and he swallowed hard.

  “God, Crissy,” he breathed. “You don’t play fair.”

  She raised her eyebrows, feigning innocence.

  “Trying to take it slow here and you do that.”

  “Maybe I like driving you crazy,” she said. “Have to keep you on your toes.”

  “Oh I’m on my toes. Believe me.”

  He abandoned the spoon on the counter and when he turned back to her, she wiggled her way under his arm, tucked in against his chest. He trailed a finger along the length of her nose.

  “You seem very…relaxed lately,” he said.

  “I probably should have warned you. I get weird when I’m comfortable around someone.”

  “I’ll hold you to that. Does it by chance have anything to do with my missing tshirt earlier?”

  Crissy’s face flushed hot. “What?”

  “You were staring,” he teased.

  “I was not!”

  She tried to squirm away from him to occupy herself with something else. But Quinn wrapped his arms around her, holding her in place.

  “Oh no you’re not getting away that easily,” he said. “You’re a terrible liar by the way.”

  Crissy groaned and pressed her hands over her face. Quinn laughed and pried her hands away but she squeezed her eyes closed and wouldn’t look at him.

  “I have to go crawl into a hole and die now,” she muttered.

  “Come on, Crissy,” Quinn said with a kiss to her cheek. “What happened to that little spark you had going earlier?”

  “That was different.”

  “You make terrible excuses too.”

  Crissy snaked her hand out of his grasp and pinched his stomach. He sucked in a breath and his body contracted away from her.

  “Ow,” he said.

  “I might be terrible at excuses and lying but I can pinch really hard. Keep that in mind the next time you tease me.”

  “But you’re so cute when you blush.”