Page 64 of Just Let Go

“And that flower shop—she just bought it?”

Ashley took a sip of her drink through a straw that was meant to stir the concoction. “Her mother used to own it. Before she left her family for some other guy or something.”

Grady frowned. “Her mother left?” Wasn’t that older lady at dinner—Beverly?—Quinn’s mother?

She shrugged again. “Guess she thought her kids were lame too.” Her laugh was too loud. “Can we dance now?”

Grady nodded toward the small dance floor, which was empty. “You go ahead.”

Ashley made a pouty face. “It won’t be any fun without you.”

“I think you’ll be okay.” He was starting to get annoyed.

She reached across the table and took his hand. “Last chance. I’m a really good dancer.”

“I’m sure you are,” he said. “But I’m not. So I’m going to stay here and finish my drink.”

“Fine.” She giggled. “But you don’t know what you’re missing.”

He did, actually. The scenario was so familiar he could easily outline what came next. She’d drink a little bit more. They’d leave. He’d drive her home. She’d insist he come upstairs with her. He’d weigh that option against going home alone, and the next thing he knew, he’d be waking up next to a woman he hardly knew with scattered memories that would make his mother cry.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know better. He’d been brought up more of a church boy himself, but he’d abandoned that way of thinking long ago. Everyone thought he was careless in the way he lived his life, but nobody ever bothered to ask him if his choices impacted him. Sadly, the answer was yes.

Why, then, did he seem helpless to escape the cycle?

He watched Ashley for a few seconds as she slinked her way over to the dance floor. Her movements were meant to arouse him, but somehow they left him cold, his thoughts straying out the door and down the block to a girl who’d gotten stuck in his head. It was stupid, really. Quinn Collins was all wrong for him, and she wouldn’t give him the time of day. He glanced at Ashley, who had laser-focused her gaze on him. That was a girl he understood. One who wanted very little from him. No strings. No attachments. No responsibilities.

But that night, as he loaded Ashley into his car, his gaze drifted across the street and a few doors down to the sunshiny-yellow building with white trim. The light was on in the flower shop. Quinn must still be working, probably cleaning up the mess he’d made. He should’ve done a better job. The years when he was supposed to be learning responsibility were spent on the slopes training, and he’d been too proud to ask for her help.

It didn’t seem right to leave her there alone when he was the onewho’d doubled her workload. And yet he was pretty sure he wasn’t welcome. Maybe he could drive Ashley home and come back. At least offer to stay and paint over his mistakes.

The passenger-side window rolled down and Ashley hung her head out. She reached over and grabbed his hand. “Come on, Grady, take me home.”

He looked up at the flower shop just in time to see the light go off.

And he wondered if anything in his life would ever change.

CHAPTER

15

FRIDAY MORNING, QUINN WOKE UP SLOWLY.It was one of those days when the warmth of her bed was far more enticing than anything on the other side of her covers. Her body ached from the late-night painting she’d done. She snoozed the alarm twice—unheard of!—but finally dragged herself up. Her courtesy text to tell Hailey and Lucy that she was running late was met with snarky replies:Did you have an Olympic athlete on your couch again last night?andThis is getting serious ;)

Quinn wasn’t sure she wanted to meet them at Hazel’s today. They’d ask questions about working with Grady and she’d have to tell them how awful it was—how he wasted the whole morning making a mess and painting her space the wrong color. They’d pry and prod until they finally got out of her that he came back for the team meeting after she kicked him out—and then he left withAshley.

They might even find a way to get her to admit to staying up far past her Thursday-night bedtime watching the door of the LuckyLady for any sign of Grady and Ashley—which, it turned out, was a faulty plan, given the way it made her feel when they finally did emerge from the bar.

It wasn’t that she was pining over Grady—not really—but that she was a little bit jealous she would never be the kind of girl Ashley was. Fun-loving and carefree, the kind who dropped everything to spend an evening out.

That just wasn’t Quinn. Hailey and Lucy would tell her who she was was just fine, thank you very much, and they may even remind her that being alone was better than being with the wrong guy, which she really did believe. But as she gave her loft apartment a once-over before closing the door behind her, she realized that none of those platitudes would take away the loneliness she often felt at night.

Of course, her friends might misunderstand that loneliness as a crush on a certain downhill skier, which was absolutely not the case. Even if he was different than she’d originally thought. Even if he’d asked her questions about herself—and then listened to the answers. Even if he’d told her about that ski sponsor who dropped him and given her—for the briefest moment—a peek behind that tough-guy facade.

But it was none of that, not even paired with bright-blue eyes, that had her attention. It was seeing him and the way he lived—as if risks were something to be faced and not avoided—that stirred something in her, whether she liked it or not.

As Quinn descended the stairs, she heard movement in the flower shop. She’d been exhausted when she finally went to bed last night, but she was sure she’d locked the door. She paused at the bottom of the stairs and listened. Maybe she’d imagined it. Seconds later, the sound of footsteps left her frozen where she stood.

She peeked around the corner carefully to avoid being seen by whoever the intruder was, but she saw nothing. Had she imagined it?

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