Page 61 of Enemy Crush
“Hey,” I interrupted softly, “it’s none of my business. You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“Hey, guys?” Clarissa’s voice rung out. “Can I borrow one of you for a second?”
“I’ll go...” Quinn was ready to jump, but I beat her to it.
“No, I’ll go,” I said, stopping her with my hand on her arm. I felt a flush of heat across my cheeks, the innocent touch sending me up in flames. “You finish your...you drink that and those tarts, you hear?” I stuttered in a fluster.
“Yes, boss,” she surrendered with a salute and a tiny smirk.
I helped Clarissa pack up an order for a customer who looked like she was feeding an army and I carried the box to her minivan. When I came back, Quinn was back helping Clarissa, a healthier glow returned to her skin.
“Don’t overdo it,” I murmured as I walked by her, refilling crates of potatoes, carrots and onions.
“I feel much better,” she said and her eyes fixed on me for a heartbeat. “Thanks.”
The stunning blue of her eyes rippled through me, an excitement that was momentary but momentous. I felt it right down to the tips of my toes, a rush that topped any adrenaline surge. Something so freaking amazing, that I knew for sure I’d gone past the crush stage, that I’d fallen hard.
Oh great. Fallen for the enemy.
After Clarissa left, I stayed with Quinn, even serving customers when it got busy. I didn’t like it much but I didn’t want Quinn to overdo it. I’d insisted she drink the smoothie too but she said she’d burst if she had to eat the apple tart as well. Ihappily ate it, not liking to see food go to waste. Especially when I’d paid for it.
I packed up the stand as Quinn served the remaining customers. Several other stall holders came by, asking after Shayla. I let Quinn deal with those questions, not knowing how to talk about babies.
“She started having contractions last night,” Quinn said to a lady. “But we haven’t heard anything yet, have we Miller?”
“Uh, no, not yet.” I liked that she included me in the conversation even though I had nothing helpful to add.
“Here’s some leftovers,” the lady said, handing a bag of bread to Quinn. “You kids have done a great job today.”
“Oh thanks,” Quinn said. “Here, take some of our freshly harvested potatoes.”
That happened with several other people too. By the time we were ready to leave, Quinn amassed some fresh eggs, a bunch of flowers, a lemon and huckleberry loaf and some butterfinger cookies.
“You did good,” I said.
“I’ll give them to the Hamlin’s,” Quinn said, stacking them in the seat between us. “I’m sure Shayla will like the flowers.”
“You ready to go?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll drop you back in town,” I said.
“Mom’s still working, but...” she paused, “but I can help you unload the truck?”
“Thanks, but I should be—” I stopped, reeling myself in before I regretted it. Quinn had offered to help which could mean she wasn’t in a hurry to get away from me, unless she felt obliged and was being polite. But what if it was the first thing? What if she wanted to hang out? On her own admission, she did like me.
“Ah, yeah, that’d be cool actually,” I said, “you know, but...only if you want.”
Quinn nodded, her voice quiet but threatening to wreck me, “Yeah, I want.”
I clamped my fingers tighter around the steering wheel in an attempt to steady myself.
“How’d you kids go?” Mrs. Hamlin was quick to greet us when we arrived back at the farm.
“Yeah, good,” Quinn answered quickly, which meant she didn’t want me to mention her fainting incident. “How’s Shayla? Any news?”
“Yes, she delivered a bonny baby boy just after seven this morning. Eight pounds, three ounces. Mother, father and baby all doing well.”
