Chapter 14
Quinn
Sitting at my desk, fanning through the proofs Holly’s provided, I can’t help but grin. These pictures turned out far better than I expected. If only the last month wasn’t still up in the air.
Darn Jason Bristow.
The first three firefighter shoots are complete, with the next three scheduled for next week. If I can’t find a way to reason with him, I’ll have to settle for a hairy entry for Mr. December. And I don’t mean Baxter.
While no one else would complain, given the shelter will be a benefactor of the calendar’s proceeds, it’s still not ideal. A few months should be appealing. Layton, Tripp, Douglas, and Frank are easy on the eyes. Maybe we can alternate their photos with the more creative ones. But there’s no question Jason would have every woman in town standing in line to buy one. Maybe a few men too.
I review the plans for the Bathtub Party Day festivities. I need to hand out tickets to the merchants to “sell ducks” for chances to win prizes. Adding a stop to the women’s club this week, I’m hoping to wrangle their help with decorations as well as Christmas desserts for the bake sale. This could be a great place for Callie to show off her cupcakes too. They’re likely to get top dollar.
Looking over the to-do list, I drop my face into my hands in complete overwhelm. There’s so much left to arrange. I still need to confirm which merchants will be renting stalls in the Winter Village area of the festival, as well as confirm plenty of concessions are at the event.
For now, I need to head home, grab some dinner, take a long soak in the tub, and have a good night’s sleep to clear my mind. Grabbing my things, I make my way to the car. As I start the ignition, Nat King Cole croons “Hark the Herald Angels Sing.” It’s been unusually warm for November here. Despite the winter holiday plans for the Bathtub Party Day festival, sometimes hearing Christmas music when it’s eighty degrees is just odd.
I’m almost home when I pass old Charlie Hummel’s house and notice the trolley parked at the end of his drive. Wow. I’d completely forgotten about that thing. Slowing down, I pull over to take a really good look at it. It’s still in beautiful shape, with rustic red panels decorated in gold ornamentation and shiny brass fixtures. Oh, the many rides we took on that trolley each Christmas. On a whim, I get out and head to Charlie’s front steps.
The door swings wide and the same sweet man I remember comes into view. He’s about my height with bright white hair and whiskers, bringing an Albert Einstein vibe. “Well, hello, Quinn. I’d heard you’d graduated and returned to town. What a pleasure to see you.”
“Thanks, Charlie. It’s great to see you too. I saw the old trolley parked in your drive and got nostalgic. Any chance she still works?”
“I haven’t started her up in a while. You looking to rent her for a girls’ night on the town?” He chuckles.
“No. But I’d love to see her bringing the same festive joy to people this Christmas it always brought me. Have you got a minute?” Charlie and I stroll over to the trolley, and I fill him in on my plans for the Bathtub Party festivities. “With the festival happening on December 5 th , I hope to make it the unofficial start of the holiday season in Magnolia Point. We’ll have the Winter Village set up with vendors, food trucks and concessions there, plus the tree lighting.”
“That all sounds incredible, Quinn. Sounds like you’ve worked really hard on this.”
“I have. I’m honored my father is trusting me with such an important task. I don’t want to let Magnolia Point down.”
“Well, you’ve convinced me. I’ll give it my best shot to have the trolley up and running for the big day. I look forward to seeing all of your hard work come together.”
I practically throw myself at this dear old man. I had no idea how important this was until I saw it sitting in his driveway. But it’s been a staple in this town for so long, especially around the holidays. Hopefully, we can lure many new faces to our seaside town by adding the trolley to the brochures and website.
The following week, I’m at the station as the next set of photoshoots come to a wrap. Everything has gone so well. I honestly couldn’t have asked for more. Jason’s been on duty here with John and Layton as the photographer snapped photos of Baxter, Mary, and Pete. Unlike the first shoot, he’s come outside to watch for the majority of the afternoon.
In my excitement, I walk over to him, feeling a little over-confident. “Come on, that wasn’t so bad. Just say yes, so we can make you Mr. December.” I’m surprised at the electricity I feel as I playfully place my palm on his chest.
I can feel him bristle before he steps back. “Are you deaf? I said no.” He shoves my hand away as if it’s molten lava. “Back the fuck off,” he snaps.
Layton takes a few thunderous steps toward Jason, looking homicidal. “Now listen, that’s entirely uncalled for—”
“No, Layton,” I interrupt. “It’s okay.” Try as I might, my body betrays my hurt, the words coming out broken, my lips quivering. “He’s right. He’s made his stance clear, and I had no right to push him.” As if the broken cadence of my voice isn’t bad enough, my limbs start to tremble. I have to get out of here. “I need to go. Call me if you need anything.”
“Quinn, I—”
Without staying long enough for Jason to finish his sentence, I rapidly gather my things and make it to the car, hoping I’ll make it home before falling apart. There’s no way I’m allowing him to see me cry.
Once home, I drop my head into my hands and allow the tears to fall. I completely get why he’s bitter. He doesn’t want to be here. And I’m little more than a reminder of all the pain he’s suffered.
However, it’s no excuse. He didn’t have to behave that way. Swiping my tears away, I lift my chin and try to focus on the things I can control. I have a job to do. If only it didn’t have to come down to this.
Constantly chasing one icy Mr. December.
Jason
Lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling, I can’t seem to rid my mind of the hurt look on Quinn’s face. Layton gave me an earful about the work she’s doing to repair the reputation of this fire department, raising funds, supporting the animal shelter, and the whole damn town, for that matter. Regardless of the TED Talk, I knew it was wrong.
I’d never tolerate any of my brothers in Sycamore treating someone that way. So why would I behave that way toward anyone here? None of this is her fault. Is it purely her last name that’s affecting me, or is it that I’m increasingly more annoyed by this insane attraction I feel whenever she’s around? Between her enticing scent and the frisson of lust from her hand on my chest, I felt unhinged.
It’s late, but not late enough I can’t do the right thing. After messaging Layton for Quinn’s address, explaining I need to apologize in person, I head for her apartment. Once I arrive, I take a breath and walk to her door. I should’ve rehearsed what to say. Just be honest, jackass. I’ve barely knocked once before the door swings wide, and Ian storms out onto the porch. And he’s hot.
“Listen, dickwad, it’s clear you’re holding on to years of rage. Take your fucking anger out on me, not her.” He thrusts his thumb toward his chest. “My sister’s never hurt a soul. If you ever upset her again, I’ll end you. You got it?”
But before I can answer him, he storms off, leaving me to look up at Nigel. Had word traveled that fast that her whole family needed to console her? Because deep down, I don’t believe Quinn would’ve told anyone. Except maybe her friend, Callie.
Nigel comes closer. “She can’t come to the door right now. We came by to bring her dinner for her birthday and could tell she’d been crying. Once Ian spoke with a few of the guys at the station… well, I’m not sure what’s going on, but you’re better than this, Jason.”
Fuck!
“Yes, sir. I’m really sorry. I know she’s just trying to do her job. I need to apologize. Could you please tell her I came by?”
And with a curt nod, he shuts the door.
It was bad enough the way I snapped at her. But on her fucking birthday. Can I be a bigger asshole?
I need to put this anger behind me once and for all. Because lashing out isn’t hurting the ones who caused me pain. Only that beautiful, sweet, innocent girl… Scratch that, a sweet innocent woman. A woman that’s too young and kind for the likes of me.