Page 14 of His Wisconsin Wallflower
Quinten looked up, and his left eyebrow quirked up. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know,” she said simply, “but I’d like to. Let me help.”
Quinten regarded her for a moment, and something shifting in his expression. “You serious?”
She nodded. “I can’t leave just yet, but once the lunch rush dies down—if Lila’s okay to cover—I can come with you.”
His mouth curved. “That works. I’ll hang around until then.”
Before either of them could say more, the door swung open with a sharp jingle, and Beth swept in, flanked by two of her usual posse. Her heels clicked against the floor as she approached, her lips curving into a saccharine smile.
“Good afternoon.” Beth’s eyes narrowed as she took in how close Raisa was standing to Quinten.
Oh god, how embarrassing.
Raisa fought the urge to put space between her and the gorgeous man sitting beside her.
“Make me a latte.”
“Good afternoon, Beth.” Ignoring the rudeness and imagining her ice shield, Raisa nodded at the two women behind her. “Devaney. Megan,” she managed to say politely before returning her attention to Beth. “You can place your order with Lila. I’ll be with you in a moment, and do check out the fruit tarts. They are discounted right now.”
“Well, I don’t want hips like yours, so I will skip the sweets.” Beth’s words dripped mock sweetness. “Maybe you should do the same. Or exercise a teensy bit more, huh? How about you move your fat ass to the counter and. Get. Me. My. Coffee!” The latter words came out cutting and menacing.
Raisa forced herself to stay calm, even as she curled her hands into fists.
“Beth!” Quinten’s voice cut through the room, and he rose from his chair, towering over them both. “What the hell? She might be serving drinks and food, but she’s not your servant, and there are other customers who came in before you. Get off your high horse, take a seat, and wait for Lila or Raisa to come to your table.”
Beth’s cheeks flushed, and her expression hardened. “Yeesh, Quin, are you really speaking up for Wallflower Winslow now?”
Raisa couldn’t hold back the flinch at the slur.
Quinten crossed his arms. “That nickname is juvenile, Beth. I never should have gone along with it back in high school, and it’s long past time to let it go.”
Beth looked over her shoulder, obviously expecting the other women there, but they had scuttled away when Quinten rose. Wise decision. The man could be downright scary. For once being at a disadvantage, Beth huffed and turned to join her friends at a table near the back.
Raisa gnawed on her bottom lip, her chest tightened, and she ducked her head slightly, brushing her hands against her apron as though smoothing away invisible wrinkles. He didn’t have to do that. Heat prickled the back of her neck, ears and cheeks, but other than the embarrassment, a flicker of gratitude warmed her. She glanced at Quinten, whose firm stance was unwavering. Her breath hitched. Why did he have to make it so hard to stay guarded?
After serving Beth and a few other customers, Raisa turned to Lila. “Do you mind staying a while longer and running the shop for me? I’m heading over to Quinten’s for a couple hours.”
Lila smiled. “Not at all. I could use the extra cash anyway.”
Quinten and Raisa stepped outside, the cold air biting at their faces. The snow had stopped, and sunlight gleamed off the rooftops and icy sidewalks. The cheerful winter sky seemed to be mocking the simmering anger in Quinten’s chest. He clenched his jaw and shoved his hands into his coat pockets. What the hell was wrong with Beth? Her behavior had been uncalled for, and the way she’d sneered at Raisa made his stomach churn. Did Raisa always have to deal with this kind of treatment? Or had Beth’s jealous streak been triggered by his obvious interest in Raisa? He didn’t doubt Beth had picked up on that. It was hard to miss.
“Sorry about Beth.” Quinten cleared his throat as residual frustration squeeze his windpipe and made it hard to speak. “She’s always been… difficult and self-absorbed.”
Raisa gave a small shrug. “It’s fine.” She burrowed into her oversized coat like she could use it as a shield against the old pain and insecurity. “I’m used to it.”
He stopped mid-step and turned to look at her. Narrowing his eyes, he stated, “You shouldn’t have to be.”
Her gaze flicked up to meet his. Whatever she was feeling stayed carefully guarded, and he hated not being able to read her.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, almost as though the words cost her something. Turning her gaze forward, she started to walk again.
They continued in silence for a short while, their boots crunching over the snow-covered pavement. Quinten stole a glance at her from the corner of his eye. She seemed lost inthoughts. Her jaw was tight, her shoulders hunched slightly like she was bracing for something, or keeping too much in.
There would be a day she wouldn’t hide her emotions from him, but that took time, and he needed to win her trust first. He returned his gaze to the path ahead as if it was a metaphor for the way forward with Raisa.
When they reached the office, he pushed open the door and held it for her. The warmth inside was immediate and comforting, though the tension in his chest didn’t ease.
