Quinn rubbed at his beard in agitation. “Not today, I don’t.”
Hurt pierced me, but I shouldn’t have expected anything more from him. “Fine. I should get back to work.”
His head snapped up. “And about our talk?”
“What would be the purpose? What do you want from it, Quinn? What do you want from me?”
“I want you to know the truth. I thought you did. But I’ve come to realize that I expected you to be a mind reader, and that isn’t fair. Just let me give you the truth and you can decide whether you never want to speak to me again after that.”
You know you need to know, a voice whispered in my head.Put aside your goddamn pride!
“Fine. But … I need it to be when I’m ready to hear it.”
Something dimmed in his eyes. “When do you think that might be?”
“Soonish.”
I could tell he was disappointed, but he stood, snatching up his iPad and gesturing to me with it. “I’ll be in touch about this.”
“I’ll be in touch about the other.”
Quinn stared at me a moment too long, almost like he wanted to say more. Finally, he just gave me an abrupt nod and marched out.
I was painfully aware of the locals watching my every move, but I couldn’t help but stare at Quinn as he passed the window of the bookstore. He was so handsome, an ache flared in my chest.
“Taran.”
Reluctantly, I looked up to find Mrs. Gilchrist, the antiques shop owner, at the back of my chair with a to-go cup in hand. “Mrs. Gilchrist, hello.”
“I didn’t want to interrupt your tête-a-tête with our dashing builder.” She paused as if waiting to see if I’d provide information about the interlude.
Instead, I just stared up at her, almost enjoying the awkward silence.
Mrs. Gilchrist’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “Ah, yes. Anyway, I just wondered how the selling of your mother’s antiques was coming along? Did everything go well with Mr. White?”
Mr. White was a creepy toad whose number I had to block from my phone after he asked me out multiple times despite thinking I was already in a relationship. Thank you for inviting such a turd into my life.
“It was fine. But I’m not selling Mum’s items anymore. I’m donating them.”
“Oh.” Her eyebrows shot upward. “I remember seeing some desirable things in among her possessions.”
“Yes, there are a few lovely items. We’ll keep those in the family. The rest will be donated.”
Her gaze drifted away and she bit her lip in thought.
“Is that all, Mrs. Gilchrist?” I stood to return to work.
“Yes, yes.” She waved a hand before walking slowly, almost absentmindedly, out of the store.
I returned to my spot behind the barista counter and nudged Ewan as he rang up a customer’s coffee and paperback. “Still not talking to me, my darling Ewan?”
He gave me a side-eye and sighed. “It would be petty of me to hold a grudge after that beast called you a whore in front of your delicious ex-boyfriend.”
Despite myself, my lips twitched with amusement. “Awfully petty,” I agreed.
Ewan struggled to hold back a laugh as he wrapped an arm around me to give me a squeeze. “You do keep things interesting around here, Taran.”
The customer, a tourist, chuckled at our exchange, and I grinned at my manager. “Why are you not fired?”
