Page 32 of Quinn

“We’re finishing up early,” he said, washing his hands at the prep sink. “Don’t want hammer sounds during your big night.”

She smiled, grateful for his thoughtfulness. “How’s it looking up there?”

“Plumbing’s done, electrical’s done, waiting on inspections to close it up.” His eyes swept appreciatively over her chef’s whites. “You look official.”

“Feel official too.” She checked her watch. “Forty-five minutes until doors open.”

Her staff busy with last-minute details, one in the pantry, another in the walk-in fridge, more in the main dining room, they were momentarily alone in her prized kitchen.

“Nervous?” Quinn seemed to linger by the sink, not ready or willing to leave.

“Maybe I was a bit this morning, but now that I’m here and it’s all coming together, excited might be a better word.” She blew out a long slow breath. “Though my brother looked like he might pass out when I mentioned how many reservations we had.”

Quinn nodded. “It will probably be a while before he’s okay with crowds. Maybe never. Not everyone likes crowds.”

“I know, he just, well, he didn’t used to be that way.” She straightened his collar without thinking, then recognition dawning, her hands stilled. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” His voice dropped lower, his hand took hold of hers. “I like having you fuss over me.” Something in his expression made her breath catch. The kitchen suddenly felt warmer, the space between them charged with possibility.

Neither dared blink. His head dipped slightly, and her mouth went dry as her heart raced like a thoroughbred waiting for the sound of the starting gun and the gate to open. When his lips brushed gently against hers, she was pretty sure that racing heart stopped. A whisper of a kiss, over almost as soon as it began, yet still sent sparks of electricity rushing through her.

The sound of the cold storage door latching shut, and several voices calling out around them, sent them pulling apart. Those beautiful blue eyes had darkened to the color of storm clouds.

“For luck,” he murmured.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of activity. By six-thirty, every table was filled. A slew of Farradays had come, as well as the sisters, and a plethora of Red Hat ladies, Danny conspicuously absent but sending a good luck text that made her smile. The production crew filmed discreetly from strategic corners, capturing the restaurant’s debut for the show.

Eloise moved between kitchen and dining room, checking plates, greeting guests, ensuring everything ran smoothly. Whenever she caught Quinn’s eye across the room, that moment in the kitchen hovered between them like a shared secret.

Near eight o’clock, she spotted Danny slipping quietly through the front door. He’d come after all, taking a small table in the corner where he could watch without being surrounded. The tension in his shoulders was visible even from across the room.

When she approached his table, he managed a smile. “Looks like a hit, Sis.”

“You came.” She squeezed his shoulder.

“You can thank Gray and Aunt Eileen for that.”

“Excuse me?”

He chuckled, an earnest chuckle. “Aunt Eileen explained that no matter what else is happening in the world, this would be your only opening night, and everything else could wait.”

She had a feeling that Quinn’s aunt was referring to that unknown letter in her own way.

“And Gray, well, he convinced me that I’m stronger than I think.”

“He did, huh?”

Danny nodded.

“Do I want to know how he did that?”

With a shrug, Danny raised his hands. “Would you believe, he told me?”

That made her laugh. “You know, I actually would believe that.”

“There you go.” Danny lifted the menu to read.

“Whatever you want is on the house.”

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