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“I owe you another beer.”
“Sounds good. And Quinn?”
“Yeah?”
“I wouldn’t lose any sleep over that guy. No way is Delaney going back to him, even if he looks like a model and owns a restaurant.”
I grimaced. “I hope not.”
21
Delaney
Quinn ignored me all day long, even after I called and texted him. Should I have told him about the NYC bakery offer sooner? I considered this question as I stirred the batter for the Bûche de Noël, dark chocolate glistening under the soft pendant lights.
Maybe. But I didn’t want to upset him when I didn’t even have a grip on my own feelings. Why get into it over nothing, right?
Or maybe you were avoiding the topic.
Ugh. The truth was I needed time to sort out my own emotions without bringing Quinn’s into the mix. Why was that so hard for him to understand?
Maybe because he hadn’t bothered talking to me about anything and stormed away.
I poured the thick batter into a cake pan, popping it into the warm oven, and set the timer. Moving over to a bar stool, I checked my phone for the thousandth time. Nothing.
Knock, knock.
My heart skipped, a rush of relief whooshing through me. I jumped up from the counter and ran to the door, fully expecting Quinn.
Throwing the door open, my hand flew to my chest.
“Holden? What happened to you?” I eyed his scraped and bloody knuckles, his mussed hair. Holden’s hair was always perfect; clearly something terrible had gone down.
“Can I come in?” he asked, his deep green eyes wide and pleading.
He looked so sincere, I softened towards him. “Sure.”
Moving aside, I let him in, ushering him over to the table. He gingerly pulled out a chair, nodding for me to do the same.
“Well? What happened?” I asked again.
“Quinn and I got into a fight at that bar,The Tractor.”
“What? AtThe Rowdy?Tell me you did not pick a fight with Quinn.”
“Me? Why would you assume that, Delaney? It was totally him. He has a really bad temper.”
I grimaced, the tension I’d just worked out over my yule log creeping back into my shoulders. “Really, Holden? You expect me to believe he just walked up to you and started a fight?”
Holden shrugged. “Maybe it didn’t go down like that, exactly,” he said, his voice trailing off, his eyes focused on my mouth. “I just told him you were the best I ever had.”
“No. Tell me you did not.”
I glanced at him, trying to gauge the veracity of this statement. Holden locked his eyes on me and my gut clenched.
“It’s true.”
My mouth went dry, and I swallowed hard over the lump in my throat. A year ago, those words would have been everything to me. Now they only complicated my life further.
