Page 11 of Turning Up the Heat

“Oh yeah. Like, most girls. Not me, of course. You know I never got with Quinn; his cousin Liam is more my type. But lots of other girls have fallen for that charm of his.”

I scoffed. “Charm? Are we talking about the same Quinn here?”

“Pretty sure there’s only one Quinn in Peachtree Grove, Lanie. And yeah, he can be real sweet. But a word of advice—watch out for him. Do not fall for that dimple and those bulging biceps. I’ve had to console more than one girl when Quinn’s pulled his disappearing act. One minute he’s all into you, the next, you’re ghosted. No warning, nothing. So you’re one-hundred percent right to steer clear of him the way you did.” She nodded, agreeing with my sensibilities.

“Whew, glad I didn’t fall for his lack of charm,” I said, joking. “Thanks for the warning, though. And wish I could chat more, but I really need to pick up my order and get going. I left Mars at the bakery solo and I promised I’d bring him lunch.”

“Sure, no problem.” She pulled my order up on the computer, then walked back to the cooler to fetch the rose-and-fir tree centerpieces I’d designed.

“They’re beautiful, Lindsey, thanks,” I said, plunking my credit card down.

“Glad you like them. Sign here.” She slid the receipt over to me. “Let me help you out.”

Together we loaded the flowers and balloons into the van, careful not to spill or pop anything.

“Thanks, babe. See you at the opening later?”

“You bet. See ya!” She waved as I pulled away from the curb.

So, my instincts about Quinn had been spot-on. My time spent on the Manhattan dating scene hadn’t been for nothing. I could spot a warning sign a million miles away and he had about five major ones. No matter how good he looked, I could not, would not, fall for that guy. Even if he was the only eligible bachelor left in Peachtree Grove and I was destined to die an old maid.

On the bright side, it did look like I was about to make fifty bucks. Maybe I could buy a cat.

* * *

Mars and I busted our tails all afternoon getting ready for the grand opening. Now it was 4:30 P.M. and I was drenched in sweat.

“Babe, not to be rude, but you really need to take a quick shower and freshen up before we get our first customers.” Mars side-eyed me, taking in my disheveled ponytail, the chocolate smear on my apron.

“Fine. I’ll run upstairs, but you, Mr. Fresh as a Daisy, need to man the front. If anyone comes in, give them your finest Southern hospitality.”

Mars grinned. “You got it. I am first and foremost extremely charming.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, ribbing him. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

I dashed up the stairs to my apartment, slinging the door open, pulling my shirt over my head before I even got to the bathroom.

Buzz, buzz.

H: I really need to talk to you.

Damn, another text from Holden. What could he possibly need?

Turning the shower on, I dialed his number.

“Lane, how are you?” Holden’s voice, soft and smooth as caramel, purred down the line. He clearly wanted something.

“Fine, Holden. But I’m in a time crunch, so cut to the chase. What do you need?”

“Wow. Spunky. That’s the Lane I know and love.”

“Tick-tock, Holden.” I peeled my leggings off, the phone mashed up against my ear.

“Can’t a guy call and say he misses you?”

I rolled my eyes at the ceiling. “You could have. A year ago. A lot’s happened since then. I moved on.”

“Too bad. I miss you.”

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