Chapter 3
THREE
ZOEY
Wow.
I stare at Quinn Lee in front of my counter, looking at her for the first time, and try to recall everything Frankie and Morgan told me about her this past year.
Smart, yes. Funny, yes. Moved back from New York, yes.
Setting up the farm, yes. But both of them failed to warn me that Quinn is stunning.
Like gut-wrenchingly, from-a-different-era, pinup-worthy, stunning.
I set a box of her cookies at the edge of the counter and fumble with the stack. I really hope she likes these cookies, but it’d surprise me if she didn’t. There are many things in my life that I’m not confident about, but my baked goods are on point.
Be cool. I clear my throat. “Quinn?”
She looks up, and uff da. That smile. It’s so wide and beautiful it takes up almost her entire face. Maybe it’s the way the sunlight is hitting the room, bouncing off the gold strip on the display case, and ricocheting to her, but everything about Quinn Lee darn near glows.
“Hey! Zoey. Finally, my sister can get off my ass. We’re actually meeting,” she says, her hair bouncing like a drumbeat with her as she hops closer to the counter.
“I’m telling you now, I’ll absolutely not live up to any expectation you may have about me.
Frankie likes to lie and exaggerate and is never to be trusted. ”
Her voice is fun, lively, and raspier than I would’ve expected for someone so… springy.
“I won’t tell her you said that.” I smile and breathe my bangs out of my eyes. “Your sister is great. So is Morgan. I think I see Morgan more than my own family sometimes.”
“Morgan is the best. But don’t cover for Frankie.” She leans closer like she’s about to tell me a secret and hikes an eyebrow. “We all know she’s in here more than she lets on.”
Quinn grins. I really, really like her grin.
It’s warm and bright, like a citrus cookie.
Her lips are dark pink, highlighted by her heavy dusting of freckles, and maybe…
just maybe… Frankie and Morgan were on to something when they said me and Quinn should meet.
“I will not confirm or deny her consumer habits,” I say.
“But I will say since she moved to town, I go through product quicker than before. Might just be a coincidence, though.”
When Quinn shakes her head, a few of her beautiful red coils smack her in the face. “Frankie is a sugar addict, and the more we can support her, the better her health journey will be. But… I’ll let her know that you’re not a narc. That’ll score you some points.”
I giggle. What is happening, here? I am a serious businesswoman who is polite and kind, definitely not a giggler.
And yet, here I am, yep, giggling, like I’m a teenager.
It’s like I’ve never been around a pretty woman before.
I swear, this is what happens when you live in a small town your whole life, you know everyone, and there’s only a handful of queer folks.
Pull it together. I grip the edge of the display case as I shuffle over to the side, away from the other customers.
Quinn dips her head around the corner and looks at my feet with a twisted mouth. “Ouch. That looks like it hurts like hell.”
“Well, I’m finally off crutches, so I’ve officially entered my ‘winning phase.’” I reach out my hand and give Quinn’s a shake.
Her hand is warm, firm, and I very much try to ignore the tiny tingle that flies up to my elbow.
“I’m glad I get to meet you in person. Frankie and Morgan have tried their darndest to set up a time for us to hang out, but it’s just been so bananas around here.
I promise I’m not as antisocial as I may appear. ”
Quinn waves away the words. “Ah. No sweat at all. Frankie has big ideas, but I haven’t had a day off since February, so we’re probably in the same boat.”
I really want to ask her how it’s going revamping the tree farm, but the line is steadily growing, and Caleb is fumbling to both fill orders and do the register. “Sorry I wasn’t here the other day when you stopped in to order these. Had a follow-up doctor appointment for my mangled foot.”
“No worries. Foot definitely takes precedence.” She loops her thumb under her purse strap and bounces back on her heels. “Your employee, Luna, I think, helped me out.”
I rarely get nervous around women. Mostly because I’m not interested in anyone, so there’s no need for sweaty palms and a dry mouth.
But here I am, my heartbeat kicking up, and words fumbling from my tongue.
In all fairness, Frankie mentioned us all getting together at least a half dozen times, so there’s a little bit of pressure for me to perform.
I really like Frankie and don’t want to let her down, which means I want her sister to like me.
Which must explain the nerves.
I carefully tuck the boxes into two large bags and drag them up to the counter, gripping the counter to not slip.
Quinn’s fingertips eagerly tap together, her stacked rings tinkling like a chime. “Oh, I’m so excited for these cookies. Legit, Frankie doesn’t shut the hell up about the stuff you make.”
My cheeks grow warm. I hate that I’m such a blusher.
Every emotion displays on my face like a neon sign, and the only way to hide what I’m feeling is by burying my head in my hands.
“That’s really sweet of her to say, a heavy amount of pun intended.
” Oh gosh, that was an epic level of cheese.
So embarrassing. Am I trying to flirt here?
It’s been a decade since I last flirted with anyone, so my rustiness is probably justified. But this is painful.
“Not sure if Frankie or Morgan told you, but I’m doing the huge Christmas in August event in Duluth tomorrow.
” Quinn tugs her credit card from the wallet and hands it over.
“I’m so freaking nervous. I’ve held a few weddings at the farm this past spring, but this is my first big event.
Trying to get the word out that the Christmas tree farm is back and better than ever. ”
I definitely know about the vendor event.
In fact, a few times in the past, I sold treats there.
But it was so much work that I prefer to stay in the safety and comfort of my shop.
Besides—and I’m picturing myself knocking on wood—I don’t really need that event to garner more business.
The community is great, and my shop is usually full.
Funny how so much of the rest of the country does Christmas in July events, but this town started a unique tradition.
The weekend before Labor Day, Duluth throws this extravaganza, enticing the last of the summer tourists to spend their money in our town.
It’s like the summer bookends, kicking off with Grandma’s Marathon, where tourists and runners tear through our streets, and ending with this massive Christmas event.
The event is super fun, like a pop of Christmas color while dying under the Minnesota humidity.
“I’m sure people will be excited to know the farm’s being revamped.
” When Caleb finishes ringing up the next customer, I swipe Quinn’s credit card. “I bet that’s a ton of work.”
“Soooo much work,” Quinn says. “From the irrigation system to fixing the fence, it’s like a bottomless well of shit I need to do. In the spring, me and the crew planted five thousand seedlings. Five thousand. I never want to see another seedling in my life.”
“Whoa. That is a ton. I can’t believe you will have so many trees.”
Quinn sidesteps a couple of kids who plaster themselves against the display case to look at the cupcakes. Mental note to wipe that baby down after Quinn leaves.
“Just a few short eight years and I’ll be the proud owner of thousands of Christmas trees,” she says.
“Yikes, that’s such a long time.” I hand the credit card back. “What do you do in the interim?”
“Thankfully, my aunt and uncle, who owned the place before me, maintained the other trees, so all of them are in various stages of growth. It’s more everything else on the property that went downhill in a hurry.
” The kids run away, and she steps back towards me.
“This year I’m going to bring in precut ones from a different farmer.
So really, it’s all the other stuff I’m trying to do…
I want to create a gift shop with ornaments, wreaths, have a huge fire pit outside, those kinds of things. ”
This sounds like so much fun. Christmas season is my absolute favorite time of the year, and crafting is my favorite hobby.
During the holiday season, I make my bakery snowflake- sparkly, like you’re transported directly into a Hallmark movie.
Quinn reviving that space and bringing back the holiday spirit is just what Kris Kringle ordered himself.
When I was younger, that tree farm was magical—hayrides, Santa Claus, jolly music, and fun gifts.
I cannot wait to see what she can pull off.
“That sounds like a ton of work,” I say, tugging at the strings of my apron. “Thankfully, since you live with Morgan, she can give you a lot of ideas and help you out.”
Quinn’s smile drops, and it feels like someone just siphoned all the air in the room. “I don’t need her help. I’ve got this.”
Oh whoa… I so didn’t mean it like that. “Oh, I just meant she’s such a great decorator and designer that she’s a good resource to have… since you live with her and all…” My cheeks are warm. Too warm. I should sit.
Quinn tugs her lips into her mouth and sighs. Well, this has been fun. Until I blew it. My therapist was right—my communication skills are clearly terrible. How am I ever going to find a life mate when I can’t even hold a ten-minute conversation?
I move to stuff the last box in a bag, when Quinn holds up a hand with a smile.
“Hey, can I grab one of those really quick?” she asks. “I haven’t had breakfast yet, and we all know that’s the most important meal. Nothing better than a few cookies to kick off the day.”