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“Hey,” I say. “I thought I’d give you a ride home so I can fix that lock.”
“That’s so sweet of you,” Katie says as she appears in the doorway that leads to the back room.
“Need a ride home?” I ask Katie.
“No, I have to stop at the supermarket.” She smiles at Quinn. “Go, I’ll lock up.”
“Sure?” Quinn asks as she reaches for her handbag.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“I’ll call you later,” Quinn tells Katie as she gives her a quick wave.
Smiling at Katie, I say, “Later.”
Quinn nervously glances at me before we walk out to where my truck is parked. As I open the passenger door, she says, “You really don’t have to fix the lock.”
I nod to the inside of the cab. “Get in, Quinn.”
When she does as I say, I shut the door, and walk around the front of the truck.
I remember last night and how close I came to asking her out. Part of me is glad I didn’t, because I don’t want to scare Quinn off. She’s like a skittish deer you have to handle with care. I’ve decided to just be her friend for a while so she can get used to me before I push for more.
I slide behind the steering wheel, and shooting Quinn a smile, I pull away from the curb.
During the drive to her house, Quinn’s teeth keep tugging at her bottom lip. She’s wearing a pretty pale green summer dress with sandals, her toned legs on display.
I try to think of something we can talk about and end up asking, “Were you busy today?”
I know they weren’t busy, because I looked at the damn flower shop every couple of minutes.
Quinn shakes her head. “But we got an order in for the church, so at least tomorrow won’t be as quiet.”
“That’s good,” I murmur as I bring the truck to a stop outside Quinn’s house. I don’t drive past here often, and seeing it in the daylight, it’s clear there’s a lot of work that needs to be done.
Climbing out of the vehicle, I grab a bag and my toolbox from the back and walk toward the porch. “I’ll fix the light as well.”
I eye the gutters that are overloaded with leaves, but not wanting to make Quinn feel uncomfortable, I swallow the offer to clear them out.
Quinn gives me a grateful smile. “I really appreciate it.”
I watch as she struggles to unlock the front door, and when she finally has it open, her eyes dart to me. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, water? There’s some soda?”
I shake my head. “I’m good.”
She nods then seems to hesitate before she gestures inside the house. “I’ll get out of your way.”
She darts inside, disappearing into the kitchen, then I set down the bag and toolbox and get to work removing the old lock. It only takes me ten minutes to replace it with a new one. I test the key to make sure it works perfectly.
Looking up at the porch light, I reach up and remove the old bulb. As I’m putting in a new one, Quinn comes out of the kitchen, but then she freezes, and her eyes drop to my abs, where my shirt has pulled up.
I slowly screw in the new bulb while watching as she stares at me, her lips parted and her green irises darkening.
Interesting. The attraction is definitely not one-sided.
When I’m done, and I lower my arms, her eyes drift up to my face, and then she realizes I’ve been watching her, and her cheeks turn a deep pink.
She takes a step back as if she wants to duck back into the kitchen, but then she pauses and asks, “Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?”
I tilt my head, trying to catch her eyes, but she keeps glancing everywhere but at me.
“I’m done,” I say, and it finally makes her meet my gaze.
Surprise, and if I’m not mistaken, disappointment flickers over her beautiful face. “Already?”
I gesture inside. “I’m just going to check all the other locks.”
As I step inside, Quinn presses her back to the wall so I can pass by her. The urge to grab her so I can kiss the hell out of her hits me square in the gut. My muscles tense from the effort it takes to keep walking.
Cleaning and lubricating the locks, I keep moving deeper into the house, and when I reach a bedroom that looks like it’s Quinn’s, I ask, “This room yours?”
“Yeah,” she murmurs behind me.
I glance around her personal space, taking in how neat everything is. The atmosphere feels quiet, just like Quinn. The bedspread and pillowcases are cream in color, and a dressing table stands against the wall. There are no bright colors, and nothing’s out of place.
When I’m done with all the locks, I turn to Quinn. Her eyes skip nervously over me, and I wonder if it’s because she doesn’t want me to go.
