I look about the room to make sure no one has any early questions and notice Jason sitting in the other room. Glaring at me. What the hell? If he doesn’t want to contribute to this fundraiser, he doesn’t need to act like I’m Attila the Hun.
Just look away, Quinn. He’ll only get you hot and bothered, anyway.
“Some of you will be posing with a partner, while others will be going solo.”
Baxter’s hand shoots up.
“Yes?”
“I’m happy to shoot with someone,” he says with a saucy wink.
“Good to know. Your partner for the shoot will be of the four-legged variety.” Several people snicker. “I’ll have props available at the time of your scheduled photoshoot and welcome your input.”
I’d met with a popular, well sought after photographer from the Hayes Resort, but while he was offering a discount on his services, he was unwilling to donate his time. However, Layton’s girlfriend recommended her friend, Holly. She offered to do the entire thing for free, as long as her contact information was clearly marked on the calendar. Booking her was a no brainer.
I glance over at Callie to see if she has any input, yet notice she’s a bit distracted. She doesn’t even try to hide her perusal of the men in their turnout gear. But what did I expect? She only offered to come here for moral support. “I’ll leave the proposed schedule with Layton before I go. Please don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any questions.”
Packing up my things, I intentionally avoid looking over to where the grinchy fireman was sitting earlier. God, would it kill him to let us snap one measly picture and put it in the calendar? His six-foot-three, dark-haired, blue eyed, tattooed, sinewy body inside would guarantee the sales of this thing went through the roof.
“You ready, Callie?”
“Yep.” As we head out the door, she grabs my arm. “Hey, let’s grab a coffee.”
“Mug Life? Sure, why not.” Might be nice to decompress and figure out where I go from here. Heck, maybe Callie can help me think of some possible options to lure Jason, so I don’t have to settle for a beagle on the last page of the calendar.
Once there, we relax in companionable silence, enjoying our drinks for a few moments. My head tilts to the side as I take in the coffee shop. The place feels so flat. Devoid of personality. “Man, I miss the days when Harrison was here. The coffee’s still great, but the atmosphere isn’t the same with the new owner. Now that he and February have moved to the next town over, I only see them if I go out for a night of music.”
“Yeah. You’re right. So much has changed in the last few years,” she responds before taking another sip.
A few men who appear to be out of towners, grabbing coffee before a round of golf saunter in. Several of them gaze in our direction as they doctor their drinks with cream and sugar.
“Well, that hasn’t changed.”
“What?”
“The effect you have on men.” She laughs.
“Me? Look who’s talking.” Callie’s beautiful, but for some reason has absolutely no idea. She is about five foot seven, with dirty blonde hair and green eyes. There’s a dusting of light freckles across her cheeks and nose, giving her that gorgeous innocent girl next door vibe. From what I recall of her teen years, her home life wasn’t very positive. I suspect that still impacts her self-esteem. However, she’s so introverted, I think she hides away in all of her constant creativity, never noticing the men who stare longingly in her direction.
“I’m just saying, you should put your charms in full effect around Jason whenever you see him.”
Spluttering into my coffee cup, I sit up straighter, shocked by her remark. I turn to ask what Callie’s referring to when she clarifies.
I was there, Quinn. “That man couldn’t take his eyes off of you.”
Chapter 10
Jason
“Hey, Jason. Over here.”
I enter the Riverside Café to find Layton and his best friend, Jenson, sitting at a back table and head in their direction. Dropping down beside them, I pick up a menu. “Hey, thanks for inviting me.” It’s been a few days since I was at the station last, and Dad seems so be doing well. This unexpected invite was a nice break from the grueling work on the tree farm.
“You kidding? Meatball subs are on special on Tuesdays,” Jenson explains. “Nowhere else you’d find this guy today.”
“They’re so fucking good.” Layton rubs his flat belly.
“The one you gave me at the station my first day? Sold.” Placing the menu down, I lean back in my chair. My mouth waters in anticipation.
