21. Beau
21
BEAU
I lean back in the tour bus lounge, absently plucking at my bass while watching Quinn and Austen harmonize on a new song she's working on. The sight still catches me off guard sometimes - how far we've come from those first tense days.
"Your timing's off," Quinn teases him, nudging his shoulder. "Maybe stick to your day job."
"My timing's perfect, darlin'. You're the one rushing the bridge." He grins and reaches for his water bottle.
My chest warms seeing them actually getting along. It's like night and day from a few weeks ago. The tension has melted away, replaced by an easy camaraderie I never expected. Jarron is still a work in progress, but his Ebeneezer Scrooge persona has melted quite a bit.
"Earth to Beau," Lyle calls out, snapping his fingers. "You gonna join us or just sit there looking pretty?"
"Just enjoying the view," I drawl, setting my bass aside. "Never thought I'd see the day Austen would volunteer his assistance."
Quinn's laugh fills the bus. "He's only doing it because he knows I'll make him sound better."
"It's very possible," Jarron agrees, surprising us all.
The way Quinn's eyes light up at the compliment makes something flutter in my stomach. She's really found her place with us, bringing out sides of my bandmates I'd forgotten existed. Even Austen stopped with the snide comments, actually asking her opinion on arrangements now.
The tour bus door slams shut behind the guys, leaving Quinn and me in a comfortable silence. She's curled up on the couch, notebook balanced on her knees, chewing absently on her pen cap. The December Nevada air seeps through the windows, making her pull her oversized sweater tighter.
"Hey Quinn?" My heart thumps against my ribs. "There's this outdoor rink downtown. Thought maybe you'd like to go skating tonight?"
"I've never been skating before." A smile tugs at her lips. "I'll probably spend more time on my ass than my feet."
"That's half the fun. Plus, you'll have your own personal six-foot-three safety net."
"My hero." She rolls her eyes but closes her notebook. "Promise you won't let me face-plant?"
"Cross my heart." I helped her up from the couch. "Though I can't promise Jarron won't see any videos if you do."
"Jerk." She punches my arm playfully.
Quinn glances at her phone. "I've got a hair appointment at four. Wardrobe wants to 'freshen up my look' for the Christmas performances." She makes air quotes with her fingers. "Text me the address though? I'll meet you there after."
"You're not getting one of those Karen cuts, are you?" I tug playfully at a strand of her auburn hair. "Because I gotta say, the whole 'let me speak to your manager' vibe doesn't really suit our aesthetic."
"Please," she scoffs, batting my hand away. "Karen doesn't stand a chance with my attitude."
She heads for the door, then pauses. "Don't forget to text me that address. And Beau?" Her smile turns mischievous. "Try to find a rink with those little walker things for beginners. My dignity would appreciate it."
"No promises, darlin'. No promises at all."
I shift my weight from boot to boot outside the ice rink, scanning the parking lot for Quinn's car. The December air bites at my exposed face, making me grateful for my beard.
Not soon after, she pulls up, and Quinn steps out in a cream-colored sweater dress that hits just above her knees, paired with thick leggings and a blush pink scarf. Her auburn hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders, caught in the glow of the street lamps. My breath catches.
"Sorry I'm late," she calls out, hurrying over. "I had to buy some gloves in the hotel lobby."
"You look..." The words stick in my throat. "Different. Good difference."
"Different from my usual jeans and t-shirt getup?" She spins, the dress flaring slightly. "Found this buried in my suitcase. Though it seemed appropriately winter wonderland-ish."
"You look like you stepped out of one of those Hallmark movies Lyle pretends he doesn't watch."
Her laugh echoes across the empty lot. "Don't let him know you told me that secret."
The way her eyes crinkle when she laughs makes my stomach do that weird flippy thing again. I hold the door open, watching as she passes under the twinkling lights strung across the entrance.
I kneel down in front of Quinn, who's perched on a bench near the rental counter. The borrowed skates look like they've seen better days, but they'll do. "Let me help with those. These old laces can be tricky."
"My knight in shining... pearl snap?" She wiggles her toes as I loosen the laces. "Though I'm pretty sure I can tie my own shoes."
"These aren't shoes, darlin'. These are weapons of mass destruction if not laced properly." I thread the laces through the hooks with practiced ease. "Gotta keep them snug around the ankle."
Quinn watches my hands work. "So, you seem to know what you're doing. Let me guess - you played hockey?"
"Back in West Virginia. For about two seasons." I cinch the laces tight. "Dad thought it'd toughen me up."
"Goalie?" She smirks. "You've got the build for it."
I laugh, finishing up the second skate. "Forward, actually. Coach said I was too aggressive for the goalie."
"You? Aggressive?" She raises an eyebrow. "The same guy who apologized to a chair last week when he bumped into it?"
"That chair came out of nowhere and you know it." I stand, offering her my hands. "Ready to risk life and limb?"
Quinn grabs hold, her fingers cold against mine. "If I go down, I'm taking you with me, big guy."
I guide her toward the ice, steadying her wobbling steps. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
The moment her blades touch the ice, her grip tightens. "Oh god. This was a terrible idea. The ice is so... slippery."
"That's generally the point." I step onto the ice beside her, keeping our hands linked. "Just hold on. I've got you."
Two minutes in, Quinn's arms windmill as her feet slide out from under her. I catch her around the waist, steadying her against my chest. Her cheeks flush pink from more than just the cold.
"I swear that patch of ice came out of nowhere," she mutters, gripping my forearms.
A group of kids whizzes past us, executing perfect figure eights. Quinn watches them with mock outrage.
"Show-offs," she calls them. "I bet they've been skating since they could walk."
"You're doing fine for your first time." I guide her forward, keeping my hands hovering near her waist. "Just keep your knees bent and?—"
"If you say 'it's all in the hips' I'm going to smack you." She wobbles again but catches herself. "Those kids are making me look bad."
"They're probably Olympic hopefuls or something."
"Sure, that's what I'll tell myself." Her laugh turns into a surprised gasp as she finally finds her rhythm. "Hey, look! I'm doing it!"
"There you go!" Pride swells in my chest as she glides forward with growing confidence. "You're a natural."
"Don't jinx it." But she's beaming, hair streaming behind her as she picks up speed.
After a few more laps, her teeth start chattering. "Hot chocolate break?"
We make our way to the rinkside cafe, where a massive Christmas tree towers over the tables. The white lights reflect in Quinn's eyes as she wraps her hands around the steaming cup.
"Thanks for bringing me here." She looks up at me through those long lashes. "Even if I made a fool of myself."
"You were perfect." The words slip out before I can stop them.
She sets down her cup, and suddenly the space between us feels charged with electricity.
Her hand comes to rest against my chest, and I can feel my heartbeat thundering beneath her palm. Her lips part slightly as she leans closer, and I'm drowning in those hazel eyes. The cafe lights cast a soft glow around her hair, making it shimmer like copper. My hand finds her waist, steadying her as she rises on her tiptoes.
"Beau," she whispers, her breath warm against my chin.
I dip my head, closing the distance between us inch by inch. The scent of her vanilla shampoo mingles with the hot chocolate on her breath.
"DECK THE HALLS WITH BOUGHS OF HOLLY!"
Quinn jumps back like she's been shocked, nearly knocking over her cup. A group of carolers in Victorian costumes has materialized by the Christmas tree, belting out carols at full volume.
"FA LA LA LA LA, LA LA LA LA!"
"Jesus!" Quinn presses a hand to her chest, laughing nervously. "Where the fuck did they come from?"
"'Tis the season, I guess." I run a hand through my beard, trying to slow my racing heart. The moment has shattered like thin ice.
Quinn tucks her hair behind her ear, cheeks flushed. "They're, uh... enthusiastic."
"Very." I clear my throat. "Maybe we should head back? It's getting late."
"Yeah," she agrees quickly, gathering her scarf. "Early rehearsal tomorrow anyway."
I follow Quinn to her car, watching as she fumbles with her keys in the dim parking lot light. The temperature's dropped even further, and her breath comes out in little white puffs.
She turns the key in the ignition. The engine makes a sound like a dying cat, then nothing.
"No, no, no." She tries again. More awful grinding. "Please don't do this to me again."
"Pop the hood." I move around to the front as she pulls the lever. The ancient metal creaks as I lift it, pulling out my phone for light. One look tells me everything I need to know. "Quinn..."
"Don't say it." She's still turning the key, each attempt weaker than the last. "Please don't say it."
"Your timing belt's shot. And..." I lean in closer, grimacing at the state of her engine. "Looks like your head gasket's blown too."
"In English, please?"
"It'd cost more to fix than the car's worth."
Quinn slumps forward, resting her forehead against the steering wheel. "Perfect. Just perfect." Her voice cracks. "What am I supposed to do now? I can't afford..."
"Hey." I open her door, crouching beside her. "We'll figure something out. For now, let me drive you back to the hotel."
She wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry. This is so embarrassing."
"Nothing embarrassing about it." I helped her out of the driver's seat. "My first car was held together with duct tape and prayers."
"Yeah?" She manages a watery smile.
"Broke down right before a gig once. Had to ride my bass on the back of Lyle's motorcycle."
That gets a real laugh out of her. "Now that I would've paid to see."
I guide her to my truck, opening the passenger door. "Come on. Let's get you somewhere warm."
The drive back is quiet, Quinn staring out the window at the passing Christmas lights. I catch glimpses of her reflection in the glass, eyes still bright with unshed tears.
I pull into the hotel parking lot, watching Quinn twist her hands in her lap. The silence stretches between us, broken only by the soft hum of the heater.
"I can't believe this." She drops her head back against the seat. "I'm going to have to call my parents. They'll love this."
"Like hell you are." The words come out sharper than I intended.
"What choice do I have? I can't afford?—"
"Forget the fucking car." I turn to face her fully. "Move into the tour bus."
Her mouth drops open. "What?"
"We've got an extra bunk. The one above Lyle's." I drum my fingers on the steering wheel. "Makes more sense anyway. You're spending most of your time with us anyway."
"I can't just?—"
"Why not? You're part of the band now."
"Well, there's Jarron…"
"I don't give a fuck what Jarron thinks." The words come out rough, raw with emotion. "And neither should you."
Quinn's eyes widen in the dim light of my truck cab. The dashboard clock casts a soft blue glow across her face, highlighting the slight tremble in her lower lip. My hand moves to cup her cheek before I can stop myself.
"Beau..." Her voice is barely a whisper.
This time, there are no carolers to interrupt us. No more excuses. I lean across the center console, my thumb brushing her jawline. Her eyes flutter closed as I close the distance between us.
The first brush of her lips against mine is soft, tentative. Then her fingers tangle in my shirt, pulling me closer, and everything else fades away. The taste of hot chocolate still lingers on her lips, sweet and warm. My other hand finds her waist, steadying her as she arches into me.
When we finally break apart, her breathing is ragged. My heart pounds against my ribs like a bass drum. Quinn's lips curve into a smile that makes my chest tight.
"So..." She smooths her hands down my shirt. "Is this part of the tour bus package deal?"
I laugh, pressing my forehead against hers. "Darlin', that's just the beginning.