Page 12 of A Newport Christmess

And there it was. Exactly like I’d thought.

Landon: I didn’t put them up last year, and Christmas still came.

Landon: Besides, I can’t remember that being part of the rental agreement.

Landon: Oh wait, that’s right. There wasn’t one. You put a stranger in my house without asking me.

Nikki: Grinch much?

My mind whirled with Grinch references, trying to create the perfect comeback, but Nikki’s incoming text thwarted my attempts.

Nikki: Fingers crossed your heart will grow a couple sizes this year. *wink-face emoji*

I rolled my eyes. There was nothing wrong with the size of my heart. It was just closed off—and for good reason. A reason Nikki understood well. A reason that should have prevented her from interfering in my life again, and yet, here we were. Well, I hated to disappoint her, but there was no way I was going to let my adequately sized heart betray me and go upstairs. Not a chance.

FIVE

QUINN

The running faucet made it difficult to hear what Ashlee was saying. I turned off the water and threw the large mixing bowl in the dishwasher, pinning the phone between my ear and shoulder while I dried my hands. “Sorry, what was that?”

“The nerve of that woman! Putting you in her brother’s house without telling either of you and then assuming you would continue staying there together. How unprofessional and totally—”

“It was a misunderstanding. I don’t think she realized exactly when he’d be back in Newport.”

“Either way, I can’t believe you’re not livid. Well, I can believe it. But if it were me, I would be on the next flight home, and I’d make Nikki pay for it. That, and I’d insist on some sort of compensation for the massive inconvenience.”

I grabbed the broom from where it leaned against a chair. I’d swept under the dining room table earlier, even going so far as to move out all of the chairs, but I’d left the kitchen floor until I’d wiped off the sections of the counter not brimming with gingerbread—which wasn’t much. “Honestly, it isn’t a big deal. Nikki said she’d reassess the accommodations when she gets here, and for now, Landon seems ...” His handsome face flashed through my mind. “... nice enough.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend? The one that refuses to open the door on the off-chance a salesperson is actually a human trafficker? You don’t know this man. I can’t believe you are okay with him being downstairs while in possession of a key to where you’re staying. Unless ...” She paused. “He’s totally hot, isn’t he?”

My cheeks burned. “If you like the brooding type.”

Ashlee’s laugh was so loud I had to pull my ear from the speaker. “That’s why you’re cleaning—in case he drops by again. That should have been my first clue.”

“I always clean up my messes ... eventually. Besides, it doesn’t matter that he’s decently attractive. My being here totally bugged him. I doubt I’ll see him much after what happened last night, and even if I do, he legit thinks I’m crazy.”

“You are.”

I scoffed, trying to sweep something into my growing pile of dried-out cookie dough, only to realize it was stuck to the floor. “Wow. Thanks for the confidence boost, Ash.” I leaned over and scraped the brown mass with my thumbnail until it dislodged.

“Oh, don’t act offended. Your social media handle is TheKookieCook.”

She had a valid point, but I refused to acknowledge it. “Kooky is not crazy. Not exactly.”

Ashlee went silent for a moment, and then she cleared her throat. “According to Webster, ‘kooky is having the characteristics of a kook.’ And a kook is” —she paused, obviously looking up the next definition on her phone— “‘a crazy or eccentric person.’ Own it, Quinn. No one rocks crazy like you do.”

“Fine. I’m a little eccentric, but that’s exactly my point—there’s no way he’d be interested in me. He’s stiff and serious ... and, well ... I’m so not his type.” The memory of his brief smile centered in my mind, and that same peculiar surge of energy shot through me. I ignored it and leaned the broom against the counter to go in search of the dustpan. “Not that I’d want to be, anyway. It’s too soon.”

“The divorce has been final for four months, Quinn. You’ve been separated almost a year. How is it fair that it’s too soon for you when Cody is posting loads of pictures with his new girlfriend?”

My heart sank at her revelation. “Are you stalking Cody again?” I asked, trying for a light, disinterested tone but failing miserably.

“This new girl is worse than the last,” Ashlee countered. “I’m pretty sure plastic surgeons need limits on how many procedures they allow a patient to undergo. She’s probably half inorganic material.”

AKA: the image of perfection.

I put the phone on speaker and stared at my Instagram app, my fingers itching to check Cody’s feed despite the emotional bruising I’d experience. If this new girlfriend was as beautiful as the last one, I’d spiral into a whirlpool of self-doubt and uncontrollable weeping. I didn’t have time for that right now. My thumb hovered over the app. Or maybe I did.