Page 92 of A Newport Christmess

“There,” she said, standing up. “What do you think?”

I swallowed and bobbed my head stupidly, unable to convince my eyes to lift from her sun kissed legs. “Yep. Those work.”

The smile that danced on her mouth told me she knew exactly what I thought of them. “So, you wanted to talk?”

“Did I? I’m having a hard time remembering at the moment. Here, let me try this.” I turned around, taking an exaggerated breath, which made her laugh again. The sound was as sweet as music. “Oh, yeah. Now I remember. I was going to ask—”

A knock sounded at the door.

“What?” I called, trying not to sound irritated.

“Landon, are you in there?”

Obviously. I walked to the door and opened it to find Brian standing there. “What’s up?”

His gaze moved to Quinn, his eyes widened, and a small smile lit his face. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need an iron.”

“It’s in the top-right cabinet in the laundry room. And the ironing board is in the tall cabinet to the left of the washing machine.”

He nodded and took a step back, but when I went to shut the door, he put out a hand to stop it. “Where’s the laundry room?”

I took a steadying breath, realizing I’d better help him or he might interrupt us again when he couldn’t find it. “You know what, I’ll show you.” I glanced back at Quinn. “I’ll be right back.”

She smiled and nodded.

“Great dress, by the way,” Brian said, his gawking eyes lingering on her for too long. “It looks really good on you.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” I grabbed his shoulder and turned him around to the sound of both him and Quinn laughing.

A few minutes later, I stepped back into the room. Quinn sat on the bed, flipping through social media, her legs crossed at the ankles. Again, I had to force my eyes from them.

“Sorry about that.”

Quinn set her phone face-down next to her. She took a quick breath in, as though bracing herself for the conversation. “So, you were saying?”

I moved to the bed and took a seat next to her, trying to keep my thoughts focused on what I was going to ask her. Not her legs. Not the delicious scent she was emanating. Not the soft-pink color of her lips. And certainly not that we were sitting on my bed. The bed she’d been sleeping in for the past few weeks that suddenly seemed much too inviting a place to discuss anything. I stood back up. “Sorry. I’m just going to stand if that’s okay.”

She nodded.

“What I wanted to ask you was—”

Another knock.

“Are you kidding me?” I moved toward the door and flung it open.

Vince’s expression held immediate remorse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were back yet. I was just going to ask Quinn if she could tie my tie. I can’t ever remember how to do these things, and she’d said earlier she’d help me.” He paused, his eyes taking in my expression. “But you know what? I’ll come back in a few minutes—”

“I can help you.” Quinn came to stand in front of him, pulling up his collar in a way that made me wish I hadn’t known how to tie my own tie.

While she pulled the tie to the appropriate length, his gaze slid to me. “Sorry,” he mouthed.

I nodded my acceptance of his apology, though I was ready to push him out the door the moment she tightened the knot around his neck.

“There you are,” Quinn said, smoothing out his collar. “You look very handsome.”

“Thanks.” His gaze dropped to her dress, and I nearly groaned out loud. “You look incredible.”

Quinn’s cheeks pinked. “Thanks, Vince.”