‘Have not,’ Noah said before loosening his grip. He glanced at Quinn, meeting his probing stare. ‘Oh, fine. It’s just … that’s hard to hear.’
‘What is?’
‘That someone was nice to Mum when everyone else wasn’t. It reminds me I wasn’t nice to her. Still not nice to her.’
Quinn winced, worried he’d offended Noah. He looked at the snowy landscape around them as they approached Hay, his eyes looking toward the graveyard. It wasn’t that far from Hermione’s home. No wonder she’d found solace in visiting his father.
‘You’re nice to her.’
‘I could do better,’ Noah said. ‘But I’m glad she had someone in the form of your dad. That must make you proud.’
All the stories he’d heard of Hermione, and the way others spoke of her, came to Quinn. He wished he’d known all that time that his father hadn’t been like them. That he’d been kind.
Outside the shop, Noah cut the engine.
‘Do you want to come in?’ Quinn asked, looking at Daniel Craig through the window.
‘Best not,’ Noah said. ‘Got to do something.’
‘Writing?’
‘Something like that.’
Quinn watched Noah drive away before heading into the shop. Daniel dropped the book he was reading, the title catching Noah’s eye. ‘The Curious Man?’
‘I was … curious,’ Daniel said, his cheeks blushing.
Quinn stepped a little closer to Daniel, noticing that the shop had a flurry of browsing customers. ‘Daniel. If you wanted to talk to me about anything…’
‘Coffee?’ Daniel asked, snatching his book up from the counter. He hugged it to his chest as he disappeared to the back of the shop before Quinn could answer. Message received.
The bell above the door tingled, and Blair Beckett sleeked back his hair. ‘Interview ready?’
His interview with BBC News for their online website went off without a hitch. Quinn, still thinking of Hermione, somehow said all the right things to Blair. After the interview, they filmed him doing things around his shop, such as taking orders from a customer in the form of Daniel and stacking the shelves. Blair explained that a digital segment, along with an article, would appear online in the morning.
The rest of the day went by in a blur, with racing thoughts of Hermione and her book, how the BBC coverage might look, and Noah’s wonderful hair. Now, if he could figure out a way for Noah’s hair to save his shop then he’d be grand.
Ten minutes to closing, Quinn decided to step outside and bring in a board advertising his Christmas reads. Dazed from the day, he barely paid attention as he left the warmth of his shop, crashing straight into the chest of a man.
He skidded, gracelessly crashing to the ground. A hand gripped his arm, steadying him mid-fall and pulling him back upright, back to earth, and into the proximity of a god.
‘You alright?’
Am I alright?
Noah’s eyes glinted at Quinn, freezing him in time again.
‘Why do you keep running into me?’ Quinn laughed. ‘We have to stop meeting like this.’
Flirting.
How bold he was!
It was because of the feeling inside him, now rushing back: that elated high, gathering momentum now that Noah stood before him. His hand, hair growing on the back, clutched a disposable cup of coffee, and Quinn wondered why Noah wasn’t wearing gloves. His hands would freeze in this weather. He imagined their icy touch on his skin, remembering how his touch felt. But in another circumstance, with different meaning, would they be rough? Gentle?
Stop it.
He was beaming so bright that if Icarus flew by, he would melt. Noah watched him, intrigued.
