‘You know where I am if you need me to help.’
‘I do, and I appreciate that.’
‘I would come to the shop and speak out, you know, but…’
She gestured to the outdoors, and Quinn nodded. ‘The press?’
‘The press.’ Hermione blinked. ‘And there are too many memories.’
The only press around Hay right now was for him, not for Hermione.
Huh. That was an odd thought.
He pushed it away, feeling like he was throwing shade at the woman that was going to trust him to write her whole life down in a book.
Not to mention she had a hot son.
A hot son who felt the same way as she did: that Hay held too many dire memories.
Focus, Quinn.
‘Are we going to talk about the press in the book?’
‘Nothing is out of bounds.’ Hermione smiled. ‘So, you want a contract?’
‘If you don’t mind.’
‘Yes, okay,’ Hermione said. ‘I’ll have my team send something over.’
‘You still have a team?’
Fuck.
If this annoyed Hermione, she didn’t show it.
‘An agent, yes,’ she said. ‘A lovely agent. Actually, she’s my son’s agent, too.’
‘He’s a lovely boy,’ Quinn said. Hermione’s face was one of unhidden pride.
‘He’s talked about you quite a lot.’
Quinn, still drinking his hot chocolate, almost dropped the mug. It hit the table harder than he intended, spilling chocolate goodness onto the surface. Hermione looked scared. The smallest drop seemed like the biggest mark in this cold, clean kitchen.
‘I’ll clean it up!’ he gasped, getting to his feet, and rushing to a kitchen roll dispenser on the nearby counter. Hoping to change the subject, Quinn spoke in a high-pitched voice, and then blushed again. ‘He’s spoken about me?’
‘Yeah, a few times. It’s lovely to have him here for a little while. I don’t see him often. Lives the luxury life down in London. I’m always asking him to come stay with me, but he never seems bothered.’
Quinn tried to focus on that change of subject, but he could barely focus on cleaning the hot chocolate. Noah spoke about him? This was almost as shocking as finding out about his dad’s relationship with Hermione.
‘Noah has been quite supportive of the shop,’ Quinn said. ‘He’s showing me support in his own way. Did you see his talk with the Hay newspaper? I think that helped get the rest of the press interested. That and blood— um, Blair Beckett.’
‘Oh, isn’t he so handsome?’
‘Yes, he is.’ Quinn definitely meant Blair. Not Noah.
Yes, Noah.
Noah, who now entered the room looking like he didn’t know that Quinn was hyperventilating about him.
