Page 124 of Just Let Go

“Working. Out of town. As usual.” She pouted.

“Well, I don’t have a date.” Quinn swallowed the bite.

Lucy shot a look across the crowd. “I thought you were going with Grady?”

She frowned. “Why would you think that?”

Lucy shrugged. “I guess I assumed.”

“You assumed wrong.”

Mrs. Trembley tapped the microphone up on the stage. “Attention. Attention, everyone. Can you hear me?”

The crowd began to settle as they listened to the old woman’s instructions, most of which weren’t necessary, given that a majority of the volunteers had been working at the event for years. Still, they let her ramble.

While the woman talked, Quinn ran through a mental checklist of what she and her team needed to do to turn this pavilion into the stunning secret garden she had in her head.

Once Mrs. Trembley finished, the crowd began to scatter, and Quinn’s team found their way to her. Danny gave her his trademark awkward smile.

“You look nice today, Quinn,” he said.

She glanced down at her disaster of an outfit and mumbled a thank-you, looking away just in time to catch Grady’s amused grin.

“Okay, people,” she said, trying to remember that she was the one in charge of this team. “It’s the day we’ve been planning for. We’ve got roughly eight hours to pull this thing off.”

“I can’t stay here for eight hours,” Ashley said. “I have to go get ready for the ball.”

Quinn pressed her lips together to keep from saying something snarky. “Maybe just stay as long as you can, okay, Ashley?”

“Whatever,” she said. She turned to Grady. “You’re dancing with me tonight, Mr. Olympian.”

Grady shifted, then glanced at Quinn, who did her best not to look flustered.

She was pretty sure she failed.

She laid out the plan. The ice sculptures had been finished yesterday, which meant they could begin assembling the arches and walkways immediately. She had a specific map, which she’d detailed color-by-number style, so there would be no confusion over which flowers went where. When she was finished, guests would feel like they were walking into a garden maze, and the masquerade theme of the ball would be the perfect complement to her designs.

The day wore on. They worked. They made multiple trips to and from the flower shop to gather all the flowers she’d already arranged from the coolers in the back of the store.

Twice Grady had come to her aid, once when she almost dropped two big buckets of flowers and once when she nearly fell off a ladder.

His hands were around her in a split second, lowering her safely to solid ground. It upended her inside, but she managed to thank him before walking away.

All day long, it was like he was there, but just out of her reach. And it left her teetering back and forth between what she’d resigned to do and what her heart wanted to do.

She didn’t like the precipice of uncertainty.

By evening, most of the volunteers had gone home to get ready, and Quinn welcomed the quiet. She wanted to walk through the space once without the commotion of so many bodies. Just to be sure it met her standards, lived up to the image in her head.

She stood in front of the main stage, where the band for tonight’s ball would play. It looked beautiful. The reflections of the white lightsshimmered in the mirrors she’d placed throughout the space, sprays of wild, untamed flowers mixing with the various ice sculptures. The chandeliers were dimly lit, adding a warm glow in spite of the cool weather. Sadness clung to her at the thought of not being able to compete at the Expo. So much had happened over the last week, but it didn’t dull the pain of losing her chance to prove herself to her mother.

What if she didn’t have another design this good inside of her?

“I’m sorry about the competition thing.” It was Grady, standing behind her, reading her mind once again.

She stared straight ahead, eyes fixed on the stage. He’d surprised her today, the way he stuck around and helped. He worked with the fervor of someone who was invested. Like it meant something. But then, he’d surprised her before, hadn’t he?

“It’s okay,” she said, unable to hide the sadness in her voice. “There’s always next year, right?”

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