CHAPTER 15
Cole
Quinn leans against the wall, arms folded, fingertips brushing over the rough plaster as if she’s memorising every imperfection. “Seems like I need a builder, and you need an interior designer. We could help each other out?” she says, worrying her thumbnail at the edge of her skin until it’s raw.
It throws me for a second, but in the best way. A grin tugs at my mouth. “Now you’re the one saving me.”
She tries to play it cool, but I catch the twitch at her lips, the quick spark in her eyes.
She’s nervous, yeah, but excitement pokes through.
And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the same.
The thought of working together, of seeing her more, settles in my chest like the warmth of a good whiskey.
“It’s a deal then,” she says, reaching out a palm.
Her skin is warm when I wrap mine around it, her grip firmer than I expect, and a jolt runs through me. I wonder if she felt it too?
She pulls away first. “Okay, so how are we going to handle both the renovation here and your venue?”
Fair question. I’ve already been stretched thin, and my callouses are getting callouses from long nights sanding and hammering.
“Well,” I say, rolling my shoulders, “How often would you need to be at Avellana?”
“I’d only need to do a few walk-throughs to get the feel of the place.”
“That works because we’d spend more of our time here.”
She looks at me for a moment, “Is my place far from where you live?”
“I sort of live upstairs in the office,” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck, a little sheepish.
I’ve been crashing at the venue, on a mattress that’s seen better decades. My lease ended around the time Markus left me the bar, and since I don’t like wasting money, it made sense to live where I work.
Her eyes go wide, “Cole, you cannot live at Avellana. You need a proper bed.”
“It’s fine, trust me. I don’t need much.”
She thinks for a moment, then gives me a hesitant look. “Hmm… but… would it help if you just stayed here on the days we work?”
My eyebrows lift, surprised but not opposed. It’s more generous than I expected, and for a second, I have to look away. There’s something about the way she offers it, so open, so sure, that makes my chest tighten. I’m not used to people giving without expecting something in return.
“You’d let a guy you just met move in with you?” I tease.
She shrugs, eyes flicking away. “Well… you can’t be any worse than the last guy I lived with.”
Her words are clipped, but she masks it with a shrug. There’s more to it, that much is clear, I just don’t want to push. Not yet.
“Anyway,” she continues, “you didn’t murder me when you had the opportunity the other night. So that checks most of the safety boxes.”
I bark out a laugh. “That’s fair.”
“It would be nice to have some company.” She twists a strand of dark brown hair around her finger, the movement quick and nervous. “So… would you want to?”
I pause, not because I’m unsure, but because I want to be careful. I don’t want her to think I’m saying yes just for convenience. But she’s right. Between the long drive, the sleepless nights, and everything piling up, I’m running myself into the ground.
“Deal,” I say finally.
She nods then looks down, fidgeting with the hem of her T-shirt. “I, um… think we should set some ground rules.”
I scratch at my day-old stubble. “Like what?”
“I was hoping we could keep this arrangement friendly.”
Relief slides through me. “Hey, of course. I was thinking the same. What happened at Avellana was fun, but… yeah. It might complicate things if we take it further.”
Her shoulders drop a little, her breath whooshing out. She looks up, and for a second, something unspoken passes between us, quiet but clear. Understanding. Respect. Restraint.
“Okay, great,” she says around a yawn. “So, to make it easy, crash here on the nights we spend renovating?”
I nod. “We’ll do it room by room. I’ll swing by tomorrow morning.”
“Perfect, and are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” She cringes, her voice half covered by a laugh.
I follow her to the door, snagging my keys from the entryway table. “Oh, a hundred percent. It’s going to be fine. I promise.”
“Okay. I mean, it’s better than having to do it by myself,” Quinn says while opening the door. I glance back at her one last time, catching the soft curve of her smile, the way her delicate hand lingers on the frame.
“Exactly. I’m here to help.”
She gives me a softer smile, her fingers still pressed to the doorframe. “Thank you again.”
“Anytime. Try not to stress too much while I’m gone. We’ve got this.”
“I’ll try.” She gives me a small smile, and I make my way down the broken porch steps.
I’m excited about the idea of being around her more; the thought alone has my pulse skipping, but nerves creep in too.
I already like her more than I probably should, and pretending otherwise feels impossible. But I respect her boundaries, and I would never cross them. For now, I’ll focus on helping her out of this mess and pretend that’s all it is.