Page 61 of Four More The Merrier

"That's for the lock," he explains. "So she can keep her dreams safe until she's ready to share them."

My chest tightens. Quinn's always guarding her heart, her music - like she's afraid someone might steal them away. Maybe this will show her she doesn't have to anymore.

Now to find my moronic brothers something.

Back on the bus, Quinn ties a candy cane-striped apron over her new reindeer pajamas. "Who's ready to destroy my grandmother's sugar cookie recipe?"

"As long as they're better than those hockey pucks Lyle made last year," I tease, pulling on my matching PJs. The flannel issoft against my skin, and Quinn's eyes light up seeing us all coordinated.

"Those weren't hockey pucks," Lyle protests, measuring flour with surprising precision. "They were... rustic."

"They set off the smoke alarm," I remind him.

Jarron emerges from his bunk in his usual leather jacket, Austen close behind. "You three look like a Hallmark movie threw up on you."

"And you look like you're about to make some questionable life choices," Quinn fires back, not missing a beat.

"The best kind." Jarron grabs his keys. "Speaking of which, I've got some mistletoe with a very specific purpose-"

"If you finish that sentence, I'm adding laxatives to your coffee tomorrow," Lyle warns.

Austen snorts. "Come on, man. There's a bar downtown calling our names."

"Don't wait up, children or Santa won't come." Jarron winks, heading for the door. "Try not to burn down the bus with your Norman Rockwell routine."

The door slams behind them, and Quinn rolls her eyes. "How does he make everything sound dirty?"

"It's his superpower," I say,

Less chit chat, more mixing," Lyle commands, wielding a wooden spoon like a conductor's baton. "These cookies aren't going to bake themselves."

"Yes, sir." Quinn salutes with a flour-covered hand, leaving a white streak across her forehead. "What Christmas movie are we starting with?"

"Die Hard," Lyle and I say in unison.

Quinn groans. "That is not a Christmas movie!"

"Sounds like someone needs a holiday education," I say, reaching for the remote.

29

QUINN

The vibration of my phone against the nightstand jolts me awake. Through bleary eyes, I check the time - 2:37 AM. Jarron's name flashes across the screen.

"Someone better be dying, or Santa needed you to deliver a special message " I mumble into the phone.

"Quinn?" His voice comes through in a harsh whisper. "I need help."

"What's wrong?" I sit up, suddenly alert.

"I'm behind Barnaby's, the bar. Some guy's girlfriend... I might've... look, there was a misunderstanding."

"Are you hurt?"

"My pride mostly. And maybe my jaw. But the cops are looking for me and I can't have another TMZ incident."

I swing my legs out of bed, already reaching for my jeans. "Text me the exact location. I'll be there in fifteen."

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