Page 58 of Just Let Go

“Vaguely.”

“He’s my nephew, and he’s got it in his head he wants to ski.” She looked away. “Professionally.” She said the word cautiously, as if Grady’s laughing would injure her even though it was her nephew’s dream.

But he didn’t laugh. He only stared. “And?”

“And you told him you’d think about skiing with him, and now he’s got it in his head that you’re going to.”

“You want me to take the kid skiing?”

“Yes.”

“And in return you’ll tell your dad I’m a good guy and try to get me out of here early?”

“Yes.” She drew a deep breath. This was very much against her better judgment, so the word came out quietly and through clenched teeth. “If you actually help out around here.”

“Done.” He stuck his hand out. “Shake on it.”

She hesitated before taking his hand.

“So it’s a deal.” He wore a mischievous expression, like a cat with a bird in its mouth.

“What?”

His eyes widened. “What?”

She recognized phony innocence when she saw it. “Why do you look like that?” She pulled her hand away, crossing her arms.

He mirrored her stance. “I might’ve already bumped into Jaden, and it’s possible I already made plans to take him skiing this weekend.”

She glared at him.

“But hey, a deal’s a deal.” He grinned.

She started to protest but quickly snapped her jaw shut. A deal was, in fact, a deal, though she’d never agreed to a timetable and figured she could put a good word in for Grady whenever she felt like it.

Which might be tomorrow if it meant he’d be out of her hair. After all, having him underfoot while she tried to reopen the shop and finish her designs for the Winter Carnival suddenly seemed like the worst possible idea in the world.

CHAPTER

13

AFTER OUTLINING A LIST OF TASKS FOR GRADY TO DO,Quinn sent him to the hardware store to pick up supplies. When he returned with three gallons of paint, rollers, and brushes, he found her sitting in the middle of the shop, staring at the wall behind the cash register.

He stood outside for a brief moment, not sure if he wanted to risk scaring her. After all, it didn’t take much to set her off. He tapped the door with one of the paint cans, and she spun around, jumped up, and let him in. She reached out to take something from him, but he pulled it away.

“I can help you,” she said.

“I’m the guy. I’ve got it.”

She gave the door a push and glared at him. “Could you be any more sexist?”

“It’s not sexist. It’s chivalrous.” But as he took a step toward the counter where he’d planned to set everything down, one of the paint cans slipped. Seconds later, everything he’d been carrying was on the floor in front of him. The blue tape escaped the plastic bag and rolled across the floor, spinning in an annoyingly loud circle before finally coming to rest.

“Well,” she said. “It’s good to know you’ve got this under control.”

His eyes scanned the floor in front of him, settling on the large sheets of sketch paper she’d spread out in front of where she’d been sitting, a few feet from the mess he’d made.

“What’s all this?” He picked up one of the sheets.

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