Chapter 15
Jason
“Hey, man. You got a minute?” Layton asks as I scroll mindlessly through social media on my phone. My muscles tense at the memory of my recent behavior. How angry he was for the way I treated Quinn. And he had every right to react the way he did.
“Daphne packed some extra brisket tacos if you want to join me.” He points over his shoulder to his office. I feel like a calf being led to slaughter, but I need to face this like a man. Plus, no way can I resist brisket tacos.
Layton lifts his cooler onto the office desk and starts unpacking the containers of tacos, pineapple, and tortilla chips.
“Man, your girl is a keeper!” I rub my palms together in eager anticipation. “This is amazing.”
“She definitely is. I fought hard to get her back. And I’ll never take a single day for granted.”
Sounds like there’s a story there, but I’m the last guy to offer a supportive ear for past wrongs. I have no empathy for any guy who didn’t treat his girl right. Not after putting mine on a pedestal for years, only to get burned by everyone around me. “You’re a lucky man,” I say, reaching for a taco. I take a bite and have to actively work to prevent drooling all over the furniture. “Holy shit. This is incredible.”
Layton chuckles. After a few moments of silence as we devour the food in front of us, he clears his throat. “Jason, I hate to ask. You’ve already been good enough to help us out in our time of need.”
“Uh, oh.”Where is this going?
His face contorts. “I’m asking you as a friend. Could you possibly reconsider the calendar? We don’t receive many donations anymore. Not like we did before all the crazy shit that happened.” Layton pops a chip into his mouth. “And trust me, I’m fully aware of how humiliating all of this is.” He runs his hand down his thick beard and continues. “I’ve been competing in the World Beard Day competition at the Diddled Fiddle for years. I only do it because it brings in a ton of money for the station. But it’s not nearly enough.” He shakes his head, seeming embarrassed. “It’s utterly ridiculous. I’m sure I only win each year because my family is so well established here.”
I chuckle. “Come on, Layton. You’re a good-looking guy. And that beard almost makes me want to play for the other team.”
He strokes it again, his cheeks pinken with pride. “Well, Daphne thinks so. And that’s all that matters to me.”
For half a second, I flash back to that last afternoon at station 12 with my brothers and their girlfriends, feeling envious of their relationships. To have someone they’re all connected with who takes care of them. Visiting, packing lunches and what not. Hell, Corinne never did anything for me. And I didn’t care. I was so damn grateful she wanted to be with me. I overlooked everything else.
“All I’m saying… you’d be part of an elite club.” He snickers. “Hell, who’s going to see the thing but a bunch of old hens here in Magnolia Point? Consider it a one off.” Placing both hands on the desk in front of him, he looks at me with a comically pleading expression. “Just think about it. That way I don’t have to share a month in the calendar with a hairy old hound. And I don’t mean Baxter.”
“All right, all right. I’ll think about it.”
“Not to mention,” he says in a singsong voice. “It might go a long way to showing how sincere you are about apologizing.” Glancing up, I find Layton quirking a brow at me.
He’s not wrong.
* * *
It’s been a long day of nothingness, prompting our visit to Mug Life for some much-needed caffeine. We had one call to the Magnolia Resort hours ago for a guy who struck his toe against the bed, cracking his nail. He wanted us to transport him to the emergency room for that nonsense. His toe didn’t even hurt. He just needed the nail clipped and his hoity toity wife was having no part of touching his feet.
The boys grab their steaming cups of joe while I ask for a cup of cocoa, extra marshmallows. I’ve learned to ignore the jibes. Coffee and tea aren’t my jam.
We casually head down the sidewalk toward the fire engine when a walking stack of boxes collides right into me before falling to the ground, taking Baxter with them. Thankfully, my hot beverage fit for a five-year-old stays within the confines of the to go cup.
“Oh, god. I’m so sorry!” a female quickly apologizes from beneath the toppled packages.
Baxter doesn’t miss a beat. “That’s okay, beautiful, drop in anytime.”
It’s then I realize it’s Quinn lying on top of this beer belly underachiever. Placing my cup on the ground, I swiftly scoop her up off of him until she’s flush with my body. Her minty exhale hits my cheeks as she nervously looks up at me. My mouth goes dry at the feel of her.Jesus. It’s taking every ounce of control not to lay one on her right here in front of everyone.“You need to be more careful, short stuff,” I whisper, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
Her eyelids blink rapidly as I lower her down my body until her feet hit the ground. I notice she has some debris on her pants, and quickly stroke her left hip before I can stop myself. Between holding her so close, teasing her about the fall, and touching her without thinking, I expect her to slap me. Especially after all that’s happened.
What I don’t expect is to watch her gray eyes turn molten.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Her face flushes, seeming self-conscious.
“No. Not about this.” I reach for her hand and am stunned when she allows me to take it. Her skin feels so soft intertwined in mine, both stirring and natural in equal measure. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”
