Page 19 of Stick Around,
I busied myself wiping down the counter, avoiding his eyes. “Quinn might come by later. It was her first ride today, and I thought she might want to use the hot tub for therapeutic purposes.”
“Therapeutic purposes.” Reid nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Is that why you’ve got the wine glasses out too?”
I looked at them and fought the urge to shove them back in the cabinet. “What? Is she supposed to drink out of the bottle? I’m being a good host.”
Reid leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “Look, man, be straight with me. Is this really just about being hospitable?”
“Of course it is.” The defensive edge in my voice surprised even me. “She’s only here for a week, Reid. I’m not planning a wedding.”
“Didn’t say you were.” His voice remained calm, which somehow made it worse. “Just making sure we’re all on the same page.”
The sound of boots on the hardwood interrupted whatever Reid was about to say next as Enzo strode in. “Same page about what?”
I did a double-take at his appearance. He’d swapped his usual work-worn jeans for a fresh dark pair and put on a pressedbutton-down, sleeves rolled to the elbows. His boots were still the same style—because heaven forbid Lorenzo Perez try something new—but these were clearly his non-shit-shoveling pair.
Both Reid and I stared at him like he’d grown a second head.
“What?” Enzo grunted, grabbing his keys from the hook.
“Nothing.” I recovered first, gesturing vaguely at his outfit. “Just don’t usually see you all cleaned up. At least not lately.”
“Going dancing.” Enzo’s eyes flicked to the elaborate spread on the counter, one eyebrow arching. “What’s all this?”
“Nothing.” I moved to casually block his view, which was ridiculous. “Just making sure our guest feels welcome.”
“Welcome.” Enzo repeated the word like he was testing it for bullshit. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
Heat crawled up my neck. “It’s called customer service, Enzo. You should try it sometime instead of glowering at people until they give you money.”
“Right.” His mouth twisted into something not quite a smile. “Well, don’t strain yourself rolling out the welcome wagon. I’d hate for you to pull something.”
“You’re going line dancing?” Reid crossed the kitchen to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. “That’s a surprise. What’s the occasion?”
“It’s been a while, and I need to blow off some steam.” There was a flicker of something in his voice, but before I could place it, he was gone, the screen door slapping shut behind him.
The silence stretched for a beat too long before Reid cleared his throat. “Kellan, I know it’s not really my business, but?—”
“You’re right, it’s not.” I cut him off, immediately regretting my sharpness. “It’s nothing, okay? She seemed interested, I’m interested, we’re both adults.”
“She’s a guest.”
“And?”
Reid ran a hand through his hair. “All I’m saying is, be careful.”
The truth was, despite tapping into every ounce of self-preservation I possessed, I kept thinking about her. It wasn’t just passing thoughts but full-blown mental dioramas featuring her smile, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she concentrated, and how her face softened when she talked about her students. I’d tried distracting myself, but nothing worked.
Quinn had somehow bypassed all my carefully constructed defenses I’d spent years reinforcing after watching my parents’ toxic cycle of make-up and break-up and settled right into the corners of my mind where I couldn’t reach to evict her.
Usually I didn’t go through the effort of making something as elaborate as a charcuterie board, but with Quinn, I wanted to. Even if it led nowhere, she was worth the effort.
Reid must have read something in my expression because he headed toward the hallway, pausing at the doorway. “For what it’s worth, that’s the fanciest damn charcuterie board I’ve ever seen. If she doesn’t appreciate it, she doesn’t deserve it.”
I didn’t bother asking him just how many boards he’d seen. His experience with fancy food arrangements began and ended with the premade veggie trays at the grocery store.
I glanced at the clock. Nearly eight.
It was possible Quinn wouldn’t show up at all. It was possible I’d misread the signals, or she’d decided it wasn’t worth the potential awkwardness. I would just eat the entire board myself while watching reruns ofYellowstone, wondering why I’d gone to all this trouble for someone who’d be gone in days.
