He rubs a hand behind his neck with a wince.
I set my shoulders, folding my arms over my chest. “You don’t?—”
“CC...” He eliminates the distance between us. “You are the most selfless fucking woman on the planet, you know that? But Hank coming home might not be what turns out to be the best thing for him. Or you. Please just think about that, okay?”
“No.” I’m shaking my head. “That’s giving up on him, Quinton. I won’t do it.”
“No, it’s not. Not if he needs more care than you’re able to give. Not if it means you’re not safe.” His voice is laced with concern.
“I’m not talking to you about this. It’s for me and my brother and sister to decide.”
“I know that. But when they are thousands of miles away, expecting you to look after someone who needs more care than one person is capable of, who is going to look afteryou?”
The second the words leave his mouth, his face falls with something like shock. As if he just realized he overstepped.
“I’m sorry for?—”
I hold a hand up. “Just drop it, please.”
Something tugs on my sweater, and I glance down to see Maisey’s face twisted with worry. “What do you mean nobody takes care of you, CC?”
Her brows pinch together even further, and my heart all but stalls out.
I bend down and give her a tight hug. “I’m just fine. Don’t you worry about me, sweetheart. Besides, with you as my bestie, I’m the luckiest girl alive.”
She scoffs, breaking from the hug. “You mean woman—luckiestwomanalive. That’s what Daddy calls you when he thinks I’m not listening. He said you’re the stunning woman that justhadto move in next door muddling up his head. That’s what he said.”
My mouth falls open. The annoyance I was feeling toward Quin just seconds ago ebbs.
Quinton looses a groan as his hand rubs down his face. “You gotta repeat everything I say, Maise?”
She giggles and runs off to play in the snow.
“So, I take it having a woman living next door wasn’t on your vision board?” I ask with a chuckle.
“What the hell is a vision board?” he says.
“You know, where you put all your future dreams and plans?”
“Yeah, no. Don’t have one.”
“Maybe you should make one. Then you can stop talking to yourself.”
He slaps my ass and I squeal, bursting into a sprint to get away from him.
He bends down and scoops up snow, making a ball before tossing it in my general direction. It hits the trunk of the old oak, and I fly behind the studio, coming to rest as I lean on its weathered boards. The crunch of steel caps on snow lets me know he’s almost found me. Offense is the best defense, so I gather up a snowball of my own and hold my hand up, ready to sling it at that handsome mug of his the second he finds me.
He steps closer and closer.
I ready my snowball . . .
Chapter
Twenty-Two
QUINTON
Snow explodes all over my face. If it wasn’t for the giggle that came from its point of origin, I’d think it was Maise. Except this particular voice, the sunshine lilt and tone, sends electricity through my veins.
