She sat at the table.
Greg smiled at his son. “Excited about the summer?” he asked.
“You know it. Three more weeks until we’re done. I can’t wait.”
Greg looked at Rachel. “Don’t forget we need to talk about his schedule. So I can help.”
She started to tell him she was fine on her own, then pressed her lips together. One of her recent silly affirmations on her phone app had been about accepting help from others.
“That would be nice,” she said. “Let’s get together and talk about how we’re going to handle the summer.”
“You could start by getting me an Xbox,” Josh offered with a grin. “That would be cool.”
“Not gonna happen,” Greg told him with a laugh. “Besides, you’d rather be outside.”
“I would.” Josh carried his bowl over to the sink, then reached for his backpack. “I’m ready.”
Rachel took her own bowl to the sink and rinsed it out. “You’re taking him to school?”
“Him to school and you to work,” Greg told her. “Your car is due for an oil change. I’ll take care of that this morning and leave it parked at the salon when I’m done.”
She swung to face him. “How do you know it’s time?”
“I wrote down when you had it last. You drive about the same every month, so it’s not hard to figure out when it’s about due. You’re busy and I don’t have much going on today.”
He spoke easily, but she read the tension in his body. His shoulders were stiff, as if he were braced for a fight. Because she would usually tell him no, that she would handle it herself. She would rather not owe anyone anything. She wanted to be the giver, the one doing.
Accepting help is an act of graciousness.
Stupid affirmation app, she thought glumly. Now the phrases were getting stuck in her head.
“How will you get back to your folks’?”
He flashed her a smile. “I can walk. It’s barely two miles.”
He looked hopeful and eager, like the teenage boy she’d fallen in love with. His too-long hair fell into his eyes. He brushed it back with a careless gesture.
“Why don’t you come by the salon about eleven thirty?” she told him. “I have an hour break. I’ll cut your hair, then drive you back home.”
He winked. “It’s a date.”
Silly words. Meaningless words. Yet they caused a distinct flutter. One she knew better than to believe.
14
IT WAS NEARLY ten o’clock, and the night staff was busy with their evening routine. It was as if everyone had somewhere to be but her. Courtney had already circled through the grounds and now, as she walked the length of the lobby, she realized she was running out of places to go.
She knew what she was really doing—she was looking for Quinn. Her aching restlessness had everything to do with how she felt when she was around him. Just watching him have lunch with Joyce and his friends the other day had affected her. He confused her and excited her and challenged her. Basically, he was catnip and she just wanted to purr and rub all over him.
“That’s a really gross analogy,” she muttered as she reached the stairwell. She was out of excuses and out of ideas. Short of simply knocking on his bungalow door and taking off her clothes—which seemed rude without an invitation—there was nothing else she could do. She might as well head to her room and have an early night.
She took the stairs two at a time and was out of breath when she reached the fourth floor. She walked into her room and saw a gift bag sitting on her bed. A gift bag that hadn’t been there two hours ago when she’d gone looking for Quinn.
She looked inside. There was a bottle of expensive tequila, a room key and a card that said only: Join me.
Her stomach flopped over at least three times and her mouth went dry. While she knew who the gift and invitation were from, she didn’t know who had put them in her room...or when.
She turned in a slow circle, as if looking for a clue, then realized she was wasting time. Okay, what to do? Should she change her clothes? Put on perfume? Grab a quick shower? Indecision held her in its grip for a second, then she glanced down at the jeans and T-shirt she had on. They were fine, she decided. She rolled her eyes at the thought of perfume—mostly because she knew she didn’t own any—then grabbed the gift bag and headed back for the stairs.
She knocked rather than use the room key. That seemed just too...forward, maybe. He opened the door and smiled when he saw her.
“I was hoping you’d say yes.”
“You’re not wordy when you leave notes.”
“I get my point across.”