Page 13 of Finding Haven
“Um, sure. Just a sec.” I set my phone down and move off the bed, grabbing the shirt that I left on the dresser and slipping it back over my head. The material falls to the tops of my thighs, and the nervous energy vibrating beneath my skin settles to a dull buzz as soon as I’m covered back up.
“Hey, beautiful,” he says as I crawl onto the bed. His words have my eyes brimming with tears once more, and a small laugh escapes me. “What’s so funny?” he asks, completely unaware of the internal war I’m battling.
“I just. . . I’m not sure I’m convinced that you’re actually real.”
10
Quinn
Lastnight’ssessionwithZ is still fresh in my mind as I work on uploading new photos to my account, along with a short clip teasing the video scheduled to post later this evening. We spent the rest of the night talking well past the time he paid for, and even though I never saw his face, I feel like I know him. I’ve never had a conversation flow so seamlessly with someone.
Neither of us gave away any identifying information, but I did learn that he prefers comedy and even romantic comedy movies over anything action-packed. He doesn’t have any pets, even though he’s a dog person. He likes to cook and tries to plan out most of his meals for the week, but I couldn’t tell if it’s because he thinks it’s unhealthy and expensive or because he’d rather avoid being around people.
Simply thinking about him has my pulse racing and butterflies fluttering in my stomach. He didn’t seem to judge me, the way so many others have, for my body’s inconvenient way of interrupting my life. When was the last time I felt truly enthralled by someone? I’ve always been a people-person, but that means that while I can strike up a conversation with almost anybody, I don’t often form deeper connections.
The alarm on my phone cuts through the pop music playlist I was jamming out to, the sound forcing my attention to the clock sitting on my nightstand and. . .Crap!I’m definitely going to be late for work at the bakery.
I woke up in an amazing mood this morning. I managed to get a solid thirty-minute walk in before I showered and then switched gears to focus on editing the photos for my latest boudoir client. I didn’t even bother getting dressed before I started editing. I sat down, wrapped up in my towel after running a brush through my wet hair, and became completely absorbed in what I was doing. Thank goodness I remembered to set my alarm to go off thirty minutes before I was scheduled to be at Buttersweet. Unfortunately, it takes at least twenty minutes to get there, and I still need to get dressed and call for a ride.
My car has been out of commission for a while now. The tires need to be replaced, the steering wheel vibrates, and it makes a horrendous grinding sound whenever I put it in drive or go to turn. For now, it’s sitting at a repair shop in Rivercrest until I can afford to pay the astronomical fees needed to get it safe for the road. I don’t mind having to rely on public transportation or ride services, but it would be nice not to always feel like I’m running late. I’m usually a leave-the-house-at-the-last-minute type of girl, and when you factor in the bus schedule or waiting for a driver, it’s not really a great combination.
By the time I make it to Buttersweet, it feels like my entire day has been thrown off. Thankfully, the driver arrived late, which gave me time to eat a quick breakfast and throw a protein bar in my purse, but then we somehow managed to hit every dang red light between the apartment and the bakery. I’m afraid to look at my phone and see howlate I am.
“Sorry, sorry, I know I’m late!” I chime, practically running through the storefront door and slipping past the two men standing there talking to my boss, Chelsea, the bakery owner.
“Morning, Quinn!” Chelsea greets. “I’ve got a few trays of cookies and scones ready to go for the display cases and a batch of cinnamon rolls that will be ready soon.”
I’m mentally adding the things to a list in my head as I throw my hair up into a messy knot on top of my head and tie an apron in Buttersweet’s signature blue color around my waist. “Got it, Boss!” I tell her, making my way to the kitchen in the back. I need to make up for the lost time and immediately busy myself with loading cookies and scones onto trays for the display case, wiping down counters, and cleaning any dishes left in the sink. Once that’s done, I pull the batch of cinnamon rolls from the oven, set them on the counter to cool, and begin preparing the cream cheese frosting.
“We have a new security system,” Chelsea says as she steps through the kitchen door and grabs a small spatula, spreading frosting onto the still-warm cinnamon rolls. “Zack walked me through all of it before he left. Remind me to show you where the cameras are and how to check the different views on the monitor in my office. I want to make sure you know how to work the system in case anything happens when I’m not here.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask, watching as Chelsea shifts from one foot to the other, her eyes flicking from my face down to the floor.
“Kinda?” She doesn’t sound so sure. “I think Austin is overreacting, but there’s no use in arguing with him about it. Do you remember that guy I told you about?”
“The one who gave you the creepy stalker bouquet of flowers?” A few days ago, someone came into the bakery and delivered what seemed to be a gorgeous arrangement of roses for Chelsea. It seemed like a sweet gesture, and I figured the flowers were from a guy she was seeing, but then all of the color drained from her face when she saw them. I’ve never seen someone react that way to receiving flowers, and I knew instantly that something was going on.
“Yeah, him. I sort of broke down and told Austin and Hailey about it, and he freaked out and insisted that he was going to install a new security system.” Her eyes finally lift to meet mine again. She shrugs a shoulder as if to say the situation isn’t a big deal. “Zack is the security guy, so he came to make sure everything is up and running the way it should be.”
The system that was in place before wasn’t terrible, but it certainly wasn’t good either. I’m not here that often without her, aside from a few hours on the days she has her therapy appointments or when she does a special delivery. More security is always a good thing, though.
Wait.
“Zack who?” It’s not an uncommon name. There are probably a hundred men named Zack who live in Haven Beach. But Chelsea has connections to the family that owns the Elysian Suites hotel, where Zack, the man I met the same night as my date-from-hell, works as the Head of Security.
It couldn’t be him, could it?
Chelsea laughs. “Zack Mercer. You literally brushed right past him and Austin when you came in.”
He must have been one of the men she was talking to when I arrived. I was so caught up in running late that I didn’t bother to stop and greet or even glance at them. I don’t think I would be able to focus today if I’d seen Zack again. He’s been occupying my mind enough as it is. Then again, I’m not focusing much now anyway wondering if he was actually here.
“He seemed pretty distracted by you,” she says, putting the final touches on the cinnamon rolls so they’re ready to be loaded into the case. “Austin had to practically snap at him to get his attention after you walked through the door.”
Her words have heat rising to my cheeks.Zackwas distracted byme?The thought almost makes me want to laugh. The man barely wanted to have a conversation with me at the bar. Getting him to even make eye contact felt a bit like trying to get a toddler to eat vegetables. I could say it was like pulling teeth, but that’s a more painful analogy, and talking to Zack was the furthest thing from painful. I mean, sure, I did most of the talking. But that has never bothered me. I’ve always been drawn to the more shy and quiet types. Still, as drawn to him as I felt, I didn’t think the feeling was mutual.
“I doubt that. I met him the other night at the hotel bar after having what was probably the worst first date of my life, and he could barely be bothered to talk to me.” Chelsea is my boss, but she seems like the kind of person I would get along with and could potentially be a great friend. Granted, I get along with most people I meet. It’s not hard to do when you spend your life trying to always see the positive side of things. Thealternative option of letting the bad things weigh you down would be too much to carry. I have enough problems as it is. I can’t afford to allow things beyond my control to control me.
Chelsea smirks. “Pretty sure that’s just Zack. I’ve heard from my friend, Hailey, that he’s pretty quiet and tends to keep to himself. From what she’s told me, I get the feeling he hasn’t had it easy. If you know what I mean.”
