Page 54 of A Newport Christmess

“Are you saying you’re attracted to me?”

She tucked both knees into her chest and leaned into the back of the chair. “It would be a lie to say I didn’t find you attractive. But finding someone attractive differs from being attracted to someone. One is an observation, and the other is rooted in desire. I can acknowledge that lots of men are attractive without being attracted to them.”

Unable to squelch my curiosity, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. “Which category do I fall under?”

Her cheeks turned pink, but she held my gaze. “I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be the platonic-friend category, remember?”

Supposed to be? Which meant it might not be. An unexpected ray of hope filled my chest. A ray that should not have been there. What was wrong with me? It was definitely time to change the subject. “Speaking of lots of men,” I said, snapping out of whatever trance I was under, “there will be nine guys showing up here on Tuesday, including Tyler Baker. Nikki wanted me to ask what your preference would be about where you stayed once they arrive.”

Her shoulders fell slightly, like she was as disappointed to be leaving the previous topic of conversation as I was. “What are my options?”

“You are welcome to continue staying here, since all your stuff is here. But if you’re not comfortable with sharing a space with a bunch of guys you don’t know, Nikki said she’s happy to get you a hotel. The other option would be to stay with Nikki and her bridesmaids at the Airbnb. She said they have extra room.”

“I’m fine with whatever.”

I sent her a pointed look. “You have to choose. Nikki specifically told me to not let you be overly accommodating.”

Her gaze moved to the sliding glass door. “Regardless, I’m going to work on the gingerbread here, right?”

“You could always request a hotel suite. You’d have plenty of room to work there.”

“I don’t want Nikki to have to pay for that.”

“This is about what you want. And I promise you, she wouldn’t even bat an eye at the request.”

Quinn’s gaze locked on me. “Would that be your vote, then? The hotel room?”

It was better to let her decide, because I didn’t trust myself to willingly let her go somewhere else. And I clearly needed to let her. “I’m not going to influence you. This is about what you’re comfortable with.”

She gave another small pout. “I don’t like making decisions.”

“You’re not supposed to make that face.”

She only intensified it, her large blue eyes adding to the effectiveness. “What do you think I should do?”

I lasted only a few more seconds. “Fine. If it were up to me, I’d have you stay.” Darn. I wasn’t supposed to have said that. “The guys will be gone a good portion of the time, and I could make sure the rowdy ones sleep downstairs. Your stuff is already here, and ...” My words trailed off. I couldn’t admit outright that I simply wanted her to stay.

“It would be a lot harder to convince others we’re interested in each other if we’re not together,” Quinn said, finishing for me.

I hadn’t even thought of that. “Exactly.”

She fidgeted with her spoon. “Are you sure that I won’t be an incon—”

“Don’t even say it.”

“I don’t mean an inconvenience to you, but what about to the rest of the guys?”

Honestly, I didn’t care. If Quinn was comfortable with the idea, then the guys who didn’t like it could get over it. It was my house.

She shrugged. “I feel like it will ruin the whole bachelor-pad vibe to have a girl lurking around, decorating gingerbread houses while you talk about women and make unseemly jokes—or whatever guys do when they’re alone together.”

I chuckled. “And that’s exactly why I’d appreciate a balancing presence to all the testosterone, if you’re up for it.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” A shy smile lifted her lips, and I had to force myself to look away from them. “I mean, my stuff is already here.” She said it like that was her main reason for staying, but the way color flooded her face again, I foolishly hoped it wasn’t.

“I’m sure.”

Quinn gave a small shiver. “Wow. It’s cold in here.”