Page 7 of Just One Moment

“Yes.Iwas waiting for you to speak.”

“Havefun with that.I’mgoing now.”

“Ugh, fine,Johannamade me call you.YouknowIdon’t like getting involved in other people’s business.”Ihear some scuffling and muffled voices in the background.Figuringit’s my niece,Iignore it.

“But?”

“But.Shespoke toQuinn, you know, the owner ofJustBrewIt?”

Knowher?Ihaven’t stopped thinking about her for the last…196 days.

I’vehardly thought about anything else butQuinnJacksonsince that night atShirley’sseven months ago.Thetiny, curvy sunshine of a woman has infiltrated my brain, with just a smile and a gentle touch to my arm.

AllIthink about is that first meeting with her, and how royallyIfucked it up.Barelyable to get any words out, gawking over her like some fumbling idiot, and chickening out at the chance to ask her out.Evenif it was under the guise of a business meeting,Imissed my opportunity for even five minutes of her time.

Sure,Ihave her number safely stored in my phone, butIdon’t have the slightest idea where to begin with a woman like her.Theonly other timeI’vespoken to her was whenPatrickran into the bakery looking forJoafter it was announced the restaurant would be sold.Otherthan that,I’vebeen too nervous to talk to her.Isee her almost every day whenIpurposefully walkCurlyalongRobinRoad, hoping to catch a glimpse of her through the bakery window.She’sspotted me a few times, and each time her dazzling smile blinds me.

“Yeah,Iremember who she is.”Andeverything about her.

“So,Jomentioned to her a few months back about us working together, but she seems a bit apprehensive.Shesaid something about getting her bookkeeping in order first.It’sa good idea, working with her,Jojust thinks she needs a push in the right direction.”

“Andwhat direction is that?”

“Well, not what, but who.Jothinks…”There’smore noise from his end, andIdefinitely catch a few words from a female who is not my five-year-old niece.

“IfJohas so much to say, why don’t you put her on?”Exasperationbleeds from my tone asIbrake at a stop sign.

“What?No.Jo, isn’t he—oh.Yeah, she’s here, let me hand you to?—”

“Hey,Gray.”Thechipper voice ofPatrick’sgirlfriend echoesdown the line. “Fancymeeting you here.”TheBritishaccent she uses is a dead giveaway she’s nervous.

“One: we’re on the phone and your boyfriend called me.Two:Whatis it that’s got you speaking like theQueenofEngland?”

Shelets out a big sigh, and it makes me antsy that she’s nervous when the topic of conversation isQuinn.Isshe not well?Didsomething happen?Isshe dating someone?

“Please, don’t tell her this.Patrick’salready gone over the gist of it, but basically,Ithink she’s a little scared of asking you about partnering up with the restaurant and for your help looking over her books.”

“Me?”Ifeel hollow all of a sudden.Asif someone has carved me out, leaving only my heart to beat pathetically in my chest.

“Don’ttake it like that.Shedidn’t sayyouexplicitly.Thefew times we’ve spoken about it, she was so excited to collaborate.Aftershe made a comment about her books being a mess,Ithought maybe you could help her.”

“Me?”

“Jeez.Yes, you,Graham.We’retalking about you andQuinn.GrahamandQuinn…”

Iblock out the rest ofJo’ssentence, too busy liking the sound of our names interwoven in one breath.

“Gray, did you hear whatIsaid?”

“Ididn’t,”Ianswer honestly asIpull up outside my apartment.

“Christon a stick,Ithought you were the clever brother.”

“Hey!”Patrickprotests in the background.

“Yes, yes.You’rethe caring daddy figure, don’t worry,” she reassures him. “Graham, listen.Dome a favor, please.Gointo the bakery this week, order whatever—it’s on me—but try to convinceQuinnto come around to the idea of working with therestaurant.Don’tlet her knowI’masking for this favor.Anddon’t make it obvious.”

“HowamImeant to speak to her about working with the restaurant, without talking about working with the restaurant?”

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