Page 17 of Scotch & Shortbread

Later that morning, once everyone was awake, they headed to the hotel restaurant for a greasy breakfast to chase off the hangovers they were all suffering from. “Sooo, what happened with the guys after I left?” Quinn asked taking a bite of her bacon. “I want details.”

“Nothing much for me. We had a good time dancing, but meh. Meg and I left not long after you,” Belle said, sprinkling a solid layer of salt and pepper over her eggs Benedict.

Megan was smiling to herself as she absently picked at her scrambled eggs.

“Spill it, Megs,” Quinn quipped, having noticed her friend’s light-hearted demeanour since they’d gotten up.

“Well,” she said, looking up from under her golden brow, “we exchanged numbers, and Travis has been texting me all morning.” Her cheeks flushed and she beamed like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Ooh, so it was a good night then.” Quinn said, excited for her friend. In fairness, it was a rare occasion if Megan did not exchange numbers with a guy at the bar—if not a few guys. More often than not, it ended at the phone number exchange. The fact that they were still texting the morning after was a good sign.

“We had a fun night from what I remember of it.” She laughed. “Ugh, the hangover sucks, but I think I kinda like him.” A flush of pink crept on her apple cheeks.

“Shit, I had no idea you were into him. I thought you were just drunk making out. Now I feel kinda bad for making you leave,” Belle glanced up between shovelling forkfuls of ketchup-laden hash browns into her mouth.

Meg snickered. “It was probably good you dragged me outta there before the ugly lights came on. I drank way too much.” She quivered.

“You were pretty hammered, getting you into an Uber was not fun.” Belle grimaced.

“Sorry, babes. Thanks for getting me home safely.” Megan patted her leg and leaned a head on her hoody-clad shoulder.

Belle was still grinning. “Yeah, yeah, you owe me, Megan Mitchel.”

Meg attempted to gulp down her orange juice and nearly choked on a festive sprig of rosemary. Sputtering, she whipped the offending herb out onto the table. “God-damn Christmas everywhere,” she muttered.

Belle and Quinn eyed her and laughed.

Swallowing the last of her juice in dramatic fashion, her eyes narrowed on Quinn. “What about you, Quinn? How did you get back to the inn? I didn’t even know you’d left. It was like a blizzard when we got out. I feel kinda bad you left on your own.”

Quinn flashed back to the night before and rubbed a hand over her eyes feeling embarrassed.

“I was fine. I ended up getting a ride.”

“With who?” Belle asked wide-eyed. Her fork full of creamy eggs Benedict paused mid-air.

“Take a guess,” Quinn said, putting her napkin over her plate, deciding she was done eating.

Megan and Belle both stared at her dumbfounded.

“Did you meet someone last night too? The last I saw you, you were dancing by yourself in your own world,” Meg teased her.

“Nope, I didn’t meet anyone in the bar. Well, unless you count the sweet crazy women in the girl’s washroom who fed me shooters.” She scoffed.

“Bar washroom friends are the best.” Meg grinned knowingly.

“Then who the heck drove you back here?” Belle asked, a perplexed look in her dark eyes.

“I know! I know!” Meg said excitedly. “Hot Cop!”

Quinn nodded.

“Wait, what? Really?” Meg sobered.

“Noo!” Belle said at the same time. Both her girls just stared at her from across the table, wide-eyed.

Quinn laughed at their deer-in-the-headlight expressions. “I know, crazy, right?” She fiddled with a paper packet of sugar.

“Right, start at the beginning. We want every gory detail!” Meg picked up her tiny hotel coffee mug and sipped intently.

---