Fear shot straight to Heather’s stomach and cramped. Hard. “I’d rather not,” she said, aiming for forceful but coming out unsure. Her throat began to close, and she fought off panic. “I mean, thank you for your interest, but I don’t want an interview.” She looked at Quint. “I’m sorry. I’m sure it’d help the volunteer program, but….” She couldn’t really explain.
“No problem.” He stood and put his body between Jolene and Heather. “She said no. That means no.” His voice was firm with a hint of something beneath. Irritation? Anger?
Jolene’s hand wrapped around his wrist, the red nails looking sharp. “Now, Quint. Knock it off. I was hoping we could grab a drink and talk things out, anyway.”
Heather’s heart twinged, even though there was no reason she should think about romance right now. Even so, if this was the type Quint liked, there hadn’t been a shot in hell, anyway. The woman was high-end designer store, and Heather was more of a Target girl in the bigger sizes.
Nope.Bad self-talk. She mentally shook herself out of it. For goodness sakes.
Quint removed the woman’s hand. “Sorry, I can’t. I promised Heather a ride home, and here comes Nurse O’Connor with the discharge papers.”
A ride home?
Chapter 3
Quint parked in front of Heather’s house and jumped out of his truck to reach the passenger side door before she could open it. Her place was ready for the holidays. Christmas lights were already strewn across the eaves, and a decorated tree stood front and center in the bay window. “Let me. I’m getting used to carrying you.”
She blushed. “You’re just trying to build more muscle.”
He laughed and lifted her out, figuring she’d just given permission. Seeing her attempt walking with the crutches to his truck earlier had been painful. “You are a good sport, Heather.” In fact, she hadn’t even asked about the weird interaction with Jolene. Yet, anyway. He let Zena leap out and then shut the door. “I’ll come back for your stuff. Let’s get you out of the snow.” The storm had lightened but wasn’t letting go yet.
She ducked her head against the blizzard but kept silent.
He hustled up the walk to the front porch of the old Denzi place. It was an A-frame home with two bedrooms, one bathroom, and climbable trees in the back that led to the national forest. “My friend Joe lived here with his folks while growing up. Both of them are gone, and Joe is a cop in New York City.” He set her down beneath the eve and by the front door, turning the knob. It was locked. “Huh. Never saw it locked before.” But it made sense. The world had changed, and Heather was a woman living alone. “Key?”
“In my pack,” she said, hopping on her good foot to lean against the freshly painted white siding. The shutters had been painted a muted blue that looked pretty in the winter light.
Zena ran around back to the fully grown pine trees, barking happily while playing in the snow.
“No problem.” Quint loped down the steps to his truck to grab her pack and crutches, returning to unlock the door and help her inside. He whistled. “Wow. This place looks great.” The genuine wooden floors had been refinished, the walls painted, and new granite showed through the doorway to the kitchen. The house had been built in the early 1900s when the mines were prosperous, and the craftsmanship was obvious with the vintage high ceilings. However, boxes were strewn in every direction.
“They remodeled before my grandmother bought the place.” Heather leaned on the crutches and looked around, her shoulders slumping. “She didn’t have time to fully unpack, and the rest of the stuff here is mine. It might take me longer than I’d hoped.” She shook her head and smiled. “But it’s not like I could go hiking or running right now.”
Everything inside him wanted to help, but Heather was a keeper, and he wasn’t at a place in his life for a keeper. Not with his job and definitely not with his recent run of bad decisions, including Jolene. “The tree is, ah, interesting.” The tree was green but every decoration was pink. Pink Santas, pink picture frames, pink ornaments with brighter pink accents. “I take it your grandma liked pink?”
Heather laughed and nodded. Man, she had a great laugh.
A small compact car skidded to a stop on the street, and Quint turned to look with the door still open. The youngest McLeary kid leaped out of the car wearing a bright red hat with a pizza box in his hands. He ran through the snow to reach them.
Quint sighed. “Hey, Smash. Great game the other night.”
“Hey, Quint. Thanks.” The kid shoved the pizza box into his hands. “It’s already paid for and she tipped me. Bye.” He nodded at Heather and then headed back for his car.
Heather stared at the box and frowned. “I didn’t order pizza.”
“No. I’m sure it’s from Nonna Albertini.” Quint strode into the fresh kitchen and placed the box on the island. “I’m sorry about this. She’s a born matchmaker, and she’s determined.”
Heather wobbled behind him on the crutches. “Oh.” A peach color filtered through her high cheekbones. “Well, would you like to stay for an early dinner? It’s the least I can do, considering you saved my life and your grandmother bought the pizza.” Humor danced across her face.
He looked toward the doorway.
“Oh. Zena can come inside.” Heather hobbled to the cupboards and took down some Appleware dishes. “I have a bottle of Cabernet over by the microwave.”
“That sounds good.” Still, he hesitated. “I just don’t—”
She turned and hit him full on with those light green eyes. “I don’t, either. Believe me. While I like your Nonna a lot, and she bakes the most incredible cookies in the world, I’m not looking for romance. At all. Now isn’t a good time.”
Should he be insulted? Yeah, it was exactly what he’d planned to say, but still. He had carried the woman down a fucking mountain. But he should be glad they were on the same page and needed to check his ego where it belonged. “All right. Friends?” he asked.
