Page 53 of Any Girl But You
After I close up shop and hop in my car to head back to town, I only check the app one more time as I roll up to a stop sign. I allow myself one more little freak-out, then push away the negative thoughts. This is what I do. Quinn Lee, master’s degree in Freaking the Fuck Out Over Everything. I always expect the worst. I did it when I moved to Minnesota, and things are turning out fine. Perfect, even. I did the same thing when I bought the farm, when I didn’t think I could set my shop up in time, when I thought Zoey wouldn’t love me.
I mean, not that shelovesme, loves me. She probably loves me as a friend. Because I love her as a friend. But now we’re notfriends, which means that we’re more than friends which means I love Zoey. Do I love Zoey?
Holy shit. I think I love Zoey.
Is this too soon? Nope—I’m not doing this, either. I’m not going to dissect and overanalyze every single thought and feeling, nor am I going to listen to any sort of negative stereotypes that I’m following a long lineage of proud lesbians who’ve U-Hauled. Zoey and I spent months getting to know each other. Besides Frankie, I’ve spent more time with her collectively than any other human.
I know what I know.
My breath strangles my throat. I bite my mitten off and toss it to the side, tug off my hat, and lower the temperature in the truck.I love Zoey. After the heat settles into my skin, there’s part of me that is filled, a lightness and heaviness that is wonderful and scary and all consuming.
I love Zoey.
TWENTY-SEVEN
ZOEY
When I pull up to Quinn’s house a little after six, I kill the engine and take a deep breath. Everything tonight needs to be perfect. The expectation of giving someone their first real date is a lot, and I want it to be memorable. I double-check myself in the vanity mirror and swipe a pinkie underneath my glasses to catch a few rogue mascara flakes. I grab the flower bouquet resting on the passenger seat, step up the front porch of Quinn’s house, and knock.
When it opens, my breath halts. How is this my girlfriend? Quinn’s hair is full and bouncing, the fresh coconut conditioner scent reaching my nose. She’s wearing a long, fitted winter skirt, knee-high boots, and a button-down that is popping her cleavage enough to make my mouth water. If I could just bury myself into her chest from here until eternity, I’d die a very, very happy woman. “What? Oh my gosh, look at you. Quinn Lee, I think you might truly be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” There’s a playfulness to my tone, but I’m dead serious. This woman steals the air from me.
“Did you bring me flowers?” she asks when I hand her the bouquet. She brings the pink and lavender roses to her nose, closes her eyes, and sniffs. “These are beautiful, thank you.”
She presses her lips softly into mine, probably not wanting to smear any of our lipsticks. But right now, I don’t care about messing up hair or makeup. I want to ravish her in the bedroom, cavewoman-style. Dinner can wait.
I follow Quinn to the kitchen where she digs down a vase from a cabinet and fills it with water. “I cannot wait to show you everything I have planned for tonight,” I say.
A grin tugs at her lips as she stuffs the flowers inside the vase. “I am both curious and kind of terrified.”
“Terrified? Why?”
Quinn shrugs. “I’ve never gone on a date like this before. What if I say or do something completely inappropriate?”
“I hope you do,” I say with a grin.
After she adds the flowers, she leans her head on my chest and wraps me in a hug. “Thank you for everything. It’s already a perfect evening.”
I kiss the top of her head. “We haven’t even started, yet.”
“I know.” She pulls back and plants a kiss on my mouth. A little fuller, a little stronger, and grips me tight into her.
Fifteen minutes later as my windshield wipers fight off the snow, I pull the car up to park alongside my bakery.
Quinn dashes a glance between me and my shop. “Did you forget something?”
“No, you’ll see. Come on.” We hop out of the car and dash to the entrance. I jiggle the keys into the door, step inside, and hold the door open for Quinn.
Her eyes grow and she takes a sharp inhale. “Zoey…” A soft grin tugs at her lips as her head moves slowly, her eyes scanning every inch of the space.
This is theexactreaction I’m looking for.
For the past week, I’ve been decorating for the holidays, so I’ve already strung the white lights, and put up the artificial tree in the corner. But after I closed shop today, Luna and I torearound this place to turn it into a five-star-worthy restaurant. Dozens of flame-free candles scatter the space. With the blinds closed, the candles and white Christmas lights cast a beautiful soft glow around the bakery.
In the middle of my shop, I pulled one of my round café tables into the center, covered it with white linen, added a vase of flowers, and a beautiful place setting—crystal wine glasses, white-and-gold plates, water glasses, linen napkins, and silverware.
“Zoey, this is perfect,” Quinn says as I pull out her chair. She smooths her skirt under her bottom and slides in. “It’s absolutely beautiful.”
My grin overtakes my face. “One second, I’ll be right back.” I swing through the kitchen doors, and trot over to Luna, who’s just pulling items out of the oven.
