Just One Moment (Sutton Bay #2)

1. Graham

CHAPTER ONE

graham

MARCH

I’m envious of my ten-pound Dachshund .

No one expects Curly to show his face at social gatherings. But they expect it from me.

I knew coming here tonight was a mistake and a total waste of my time. Somewhere , deep, deep down, there is a tiny, extroverted version of myself living inside me, who takes over my decision-making on occasions and leads me astray from my introverted ways. That’s the only explanation as to why I’m standing in an overcrowded, loud, and stuffy bar.

It’s barely spring and already tourists have found their way into the local drinking hole, hoping to experience that small-town way of life. All they’re going to find here are sticky floors and an owner who would rather they fuck off back to the big city, which is putting it politely.

Our family’s restaurant, Our Place , is holding a team bonding night this evening. My brothers have somehow convinced Lenny —said owner—to allow them to host a pool competition here. He’s probably grateful we’re filling the room with townsfolk rather than tourists, but his attitude says otherwise. Shirley’s is one of Sutton Bay’s oldest establishments, having spent the last thirty years as every local’s favorite hangout spot.

My eyes scan the sea of people as I take a sip of club soda. It’s the same one I’ve been nursing for the last hour, and I grimace as the flat, lukewarm liquid glides down my throat. When I spot my brothers from across the room, what I see doesn’t surprise me.

Booth , my younger brother, has been floating around like the social butterfly he is. He’s currently chatting up a couple of doe-eyed tourists in the corner. They won’t be in town long enough to catch feelings, which helps with his affliction to relationships. My oldest brother, Patrick , is trying his hardest not to drool at the sight of Johanna , his childhood best friend, as he not so subtly watches her bend over the pool table. They’ve been doing this dance for years, right up until Jo left town six years ago. It’s no surprise to anyone that they picked up right where they left off when she returned.

They’re perfect for each other.

That notion leaves an acrid taste in my mouth.

I want him to be happy; he deserves it after years of looking after everyone else. A little over a year ago, I was in a long-term relationship and with my life in order. Now , I’m single and the idea of meeting new people, let alone entering the dating pool again, makes my skin itch. My bitterness doesn’t stem from a place of what could have been, but from what I ignored for so long simply because it was easier.

Twelve years wasted.

Slamming my glass down on the high-top table and pushing up the sleeves of my sweater, I’m about ready to call it a night when something soft and warm lands on my forearm.

Looking down, I find a petite hand with bright pink nails and a pinky ring with a smiley face stamped into the silver band. My eyes trail higher, following the path of smooth, sun-kissed skin until it reaches the short sleeves of a denim dress. When I’m met with the most spectacular smile I’ve ever seen in my life, does my journey stop. Along with my heart.

A row of pearly white teeth dazzle me, framed by two plump, glossy lips.

But it’s the woman behind the smile who steals the show and leaves me speechless. Though , most would argue that’s normal for me. Bouncy curls frame her heart-shaped face. I couldn’t tell you what color her hair is. It’s a mix of so many earthy tones: dark brown, caramel, honey, and a few strands of auburn. Her eyes aren’t just hazel either. No . Because that description is too simple for the molten copper irises that glow and shift, they’re so iridescent.

She barely reaches my chin and the quick sweep I do of her body reveals soft curves that I want to trace with my palms, to follow the luscious slope of her hips and waist. Denim has never looked so good.

Her head tilts and the realization that I’ve been staring at her without uttering a word hits me. Words would be helpful and stop me from looking like a voiceless moron. I finally open my mouth to speak, only for my breath to get caught in my throat, turning me into a sputtering mess.

“ Oh god, are you okay?” the woman asks as she reaches behind me to lightly pat my back. I don’t know if she’s singing or if her voice always comes out like the soft chime of bells. It’s something close to how Snow White sings to the herd of animals she keeps in her kitchen. I know this because my niece has forced me to watch it an illegal amount of times.

It’s been minutes, yet no one has captivated me like this before.

Otherworldly comes to mind. Which makes sense, because she seems to have appeared out of nowhere. I take in everything about her, let it run through my mind, so I can process her unparalleled beauty. When it’s finished processing, it’s clear I’m malfunctioning, because I still haven’t spoken.

My mouth opens and closes like a goldfish as I try to find my voice. I’m not usually one to rush to get my words out; I like to think them through before blurting the first thing that comes to mind, but with her, the need to speak is oddly overwhelming.

She giggles and, fuck, it’s a nice sound. Better than nice.

No , concentrate. Words are what you need right now.

“ You must be Graham . Jo said you weren’t much of a talker. And well, I am. Sorry not sorry.” She shrugs, her smile not faltering. “ I’m Quinn .”

The angel has a name.

Quinn .

Never has a one syllable sounded so glorious. I want to say it aloud. Taste her name on my lips and let the letters roll off my tongue.

“ Graham .” My voice is stiff, and I immediately wince, because she knows who I am. Take two. “ Graham Sadler . Patrick’s brother. Accountant .” Only when the words leave my mouth do I hear how robotic and awkward I sound. The room is dim enough, so maybe she won’t catch the reddening of my face.

“ I hope there are just three of you Sadler brothers. God help the women of this town if there are more.” It’s fair she looks me over, too, and she doesn’t shy away from scanning me from head to toe, lingering on my face the longest.

“ Only three of us,” I confirm.

She swipes the back of her hand across her forehead dramatically with a Phew . “ You’re nothing like Patrick or Booth , which is good, it might be hard to tell the three of you apart.”

I’m definitely nothing like my brothers.

I’m just Graham or Gray .

Like the color .

“ Well , Jo already mentioned that you’re an accountant and it just so happens I’m in need of some help.” Her voice is equal parts nervous and excited. “ I’m still what you’d call a newbie to Sutton Bay . I own the bakery in town, Just Brew It ? I don’t think I’ve seen you in there, but you should come in sometime.”

She’s vibrating with excitement, eyes wide as she talks animatedly, hands flying left and right.

Fuck , I can’t believe I almost missed out on her. If I had ignored that annoying voice in the back of my head telling me I needed to socialize and hang out with my brothers more, I wouldn’t be standing here and listening to her passionate rant about brioche and muffins. She wasn’t wrong—she loves to talk and I’m a little lost, but it simply adds to her charm. I could listen to her all night.

After a few more minutes of adorable rambling, she slaps a hand against her forehead and gasps. “ Oh my god, listen to me. Seriously , just tell me to shut up next time.”

Highly unlikely.

“ Anyway , I came over here to see if you’d like to meet for coffee?”

I go to respond, to tell her I’m very much interested and ask if tomorrow works for her—deciding right this second is being overly eager—when a much larger and unwelcome hand claps me on the back. I’ve been so hypnotized by her, that it’s interfered with my annoying little brother detector.

“ Gray ! One of my chefs had to leave early. Will you fill his spot in the next game?” Booth says from behind me. With a quick glance over my shoulder, I find him beaming at me, brown shaggy hair flopping over his head, looking like a happy puppy.

Usually , I’d be grateful for him butting into conversations and saving me from having to make awkward chitchat, but not this time. I wish he’d fuck off, because the longer he stands here, the more my nerves start hammering around my body and my voice drifts farther away.

“ Good to see you again, Quinn . Having fun?” he asks while waiting for my reply.

Of course he knows her. It appears I’m the last person to know she exists, and for whatever reason, that pisses me off.

“ Hey , Booth . I’m having a great time, thanks for letting me tag along.”

They talk back and forth easily, while I stand there like an intruder. Turns out she’s good friends with Johanna , who lives in the apartment above the bakery.

Booth turns his attention to me, but my eyes are still on Quinn . I haven’t looked at anything or anyone else since she skipped over to me. “ Are you playing then?”

“ Nah .”

“ Don’t be like that. Quinn , you’ll play, won’t you?” Booth asks.

“ I’m as hopeless as Johanna , so I’ll stick to the sidelines.” She laughs.

“ Ugh , you two suck.” He locks eyes with Lenny and heads toward him. “ Lenny , my fine man, you down for a game of pool?”

We’re alone again, and I still have no idea what to say. You’re pretty , seems too forward. Hesitation and unease have sucked up all my vocabulary. She doesn’t make me feel awkward, it’s just how I am, especially when the silence is begging to be filled.

What surprises me, though, is Quinn’s calm tolerance toward this entire encounter. She stands there, rocking on the balls of her feet, smiling up at me like she’s happy to be here.

Clearing my throat and pulling at the neck of my sweater, I swallow my nerves and stick to safe territory. “ How are you liking the town?”

She smiles wider at that question, and my chest swells with pride that I somehow said something right. “ Oh , it’s the cutest. Jo took me out to Anakiwa Lookout the other week, and, wow, what a view. You’ve lived here your whole life?”

“ Yeah . Well , I moved to New York for college. You ? I mean, not here, you’re clearly not from here. Fuck , not that you look like you don’t belong here.” My skin reaches dangerous temperatures, and the more I fumble over my words, the worse it gets. My eyes fall, because I don’t want to see what no doubt is a weirded-out expression on her face. A grown man who can’t hold a conversation. How appealing.

“ Oh , New York , I’ve always wanted to visit. You studied accounting, I presume? A man good with numbers.” Her ability to overlook my timidness surprises me, plus, she doesn’t appear put off. I chance a look at her and the one thing I don’t expect is for her to wink at me before her lips pout to the side in contemplation.

In the next beat, her hand is on me again, and I don’t know what I did to even deserve her attention tonight, let alone her soft, warm touch, but here I am. Opening up her clutch with her other hand, she pulls out a pencil and uncaps it with her teeth. She tugs me closer, I go willingly, and as she bends over my arm, the hair at the top of her head tickles my chin.

Something sweet fills my nose. It’s not overpowering or floral, something rich and inviting. Like brown sugar and vanilla.

The tip of the pencil glides across my skin in quick strokes and I peer down at what she’s doing, only to realize it’s one of those black eyeliner pencils. I remember my little sister, Florence , explaining something about smoky eyes, which sounded painful. When she’s done, she pulls back and admires her artwork. Or the ten digits she’s marked into my skin.

“ I promised Jo I wouldn’t leave her for long. That’s my number…” She trails off and her eyes go wide as she spies the stack of napkins next to my glass. “ Oops . Guess I could have written on one of them. But text me, and we can arrange that coffee if you like. Or come by the bakery, I’m easy. Anyway , what I’ve been trying to say is that Jo mentioned I should speak to you about the bakery and the restaurant working together. I could provide you guys with freshly baked bread and pastries.”

My heart drops like a pebble in a well. She’s not here to get to know me; she’s here because she wants me to set up a business contract.

My eyes dart from her and the numbers on my forearm. If this were Booth , he’d somehow turn this around. Heck , he’d be the one writing the numbers on the girl’s arm. Why can’t I talk to a woman like a normal guy?

Much to my disappointment, Quinn’s eyes leave mine as she waves at someone across the room and gives them a wide grin I’d stupidly hoped was only for me.

“ I’m really glad I met you, Graham .” Her smile and tone are so genuine, I question if she’s still talking to me. Before I can tell her It was amazing to meet you , she gives my arm one last squeeze and walks away.

The moment I lose sight of her, the room turns cold, like her presence was the only warmth in here. Hoping no one sees me, I quickly type her number into my phone, before some drunk idiot spills a drink on my arm and washes away the evidence that she was actually here and wasn’t a figment of my imagination. I’m desperate to leave, but I stick around a little while longer.

About an hour later, when I spot a tipsy Quinn taking unsteady steps into the cool night alone, my goodbye barely passes my lips as I abandon Patrick at our table. I need to make sure Quinn gets home safe. Selfishly , I hope it means I get to spend another five minutes with her, even if it just ends up with the silence being filled with her chatter. Without curious eyes around us, maybe I can take her up on her offer for coffee, even if it is to discuss a business relationship.

Since I’ve been single, no one has caught my eye the way she has.

My hope of getting to spend more time with her is desecrated when I watch her climb into the back of a truck along with two other people who were at the bar tonight. Her laughter echoes across the parking lot; carefree and bright. Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t find the courage to ask her out. There’s no chance in hell someone so quiet and awkward could make such a vivacious woman like her laugh. I wish I could be that person, though.

The driver is one of the restaurant’s servers, who I trust to get her home safe. It doesn’t stop me wishing they’d get a flat as they drive out of the parking lot. I know I didn’t say much, and that would normally bother most people, but Quinn seemed happy talking to me. And I liked listening to her. She made the silence I usually leave in my wake a little less lonely.

I wait for the taillights to disappear before I drag my feet over to where my Jeep is parked. Disappointment in myself like lead in my boots. Had I not been a nervous wreck, I would have asked her out there and then. Typed her number into my phone and called her, so she had my number too. I would have insisted I drive her home and waited until she was safely inside before driving away.

Only , I’m not that guy, and a girl like Quinn is best matched with someone confident and outgoing.

Later that night, after I’ve let Curly out and locked up, I can’t stop overthinking tonight’s interactions. As usual, I put my thoughts down on paper before heading to bed, letting the words I couldn’t find flood the pages. All my worries, doubts, and frustrations inked for my eyes only.

Tonight I met beauty incarnate.

Quinn .

How I hadn’t heard about her before has an odd sense of anger bubbling in me. I was aware of the bakery that had opened on Robin Road , but I’m hardly ever in town. Maybe if I didn’t have such a dislike for sugary snacks, I would have met her sooner.

I was so enthralled by her that I almost forgot what a fucking mess I was making of our meeting. Almost .

Who am I kidding thinking she would ever be interested in me. It’s a good thing I couldn’t string a coherent sentence together. I would have bored her to death. I watched her laugh and dance all night. So full of life.

And I’m just not anything that would interest her.

I just wish I could be.

I always feel lighter afterward, but something still niggles in the back of my head, scratching to get out. Before I overthink it, pen meets paper, and I find myself doing something I haven’t done for a long time.

Etched into a fresh notebook, sit three short lines.

A prism of colors

Her beauty outshines us all

Too bright for dull gray