“I was told it was urgent.”
“Yes, but, um, I’m a bit wrapped up.” Understatement of the century, Quinn.
“Do you need any help?”
“No, no. I’m fine.” Oh, like he was going to believe that shriek.
Fantastic. The wire was wrapped around my legs. I had to get to that outlet and unplug it.
“Are you sur—”
I shrieked as I shuffled back and tripped over a reindeer.
No.
I was not sure.
I was not fine.
The door burst open, and I looked up, staring into a face I hadn’t seen in years. A face I didn’t want to see for several more.
Nicholas White.
My first kiss.
My first crush.
My first… sexy time.
And the one who got away.
“Quinn. I thought it was you.” He stepped forward. “Are you all right?”
“I’m tangled in fucking Christmas lights, and I’ve just gone ass over tit over Rudolph. Do you think I’m all right?” I pulled at the wire around my legs, but it wouldn’t loosen.
“Here. Let me help you.” Nicholas knelt in front of me and traced the wire back to the outlet where he unplugged it, just as I’d been planning to do. He swiftly managed to unwrap it from around my legs, thus freeing me from my prison so I could stand up.
He held out his hands to help me up, but I ignored him and got up myself.
What?
Inner teenage Quinn was still smarting.
Who took a girl’s virginity and ran away the next day?
I’ll tell you who.
Nicholas. Fucking. White.
Asshole.
With the cable unplugged, I was able to extract myself from the wires without any help. I threw them into the plastic storage container in disgust and turned to look at my very unwelcome guest.
Nine years since he took my virginity in a motel room and bailed on me, leaving me humiliated and needing to call my sister to save my butt so my parents didn’t find out I’d lied to them. I hadn’t heard a single word from him in all that time, and all he said when he saw me again was, “Quinn. I thought it was you.”
Well, who else would it be, genius?
The most annoying thing was that he was stupidly handsome, even after all this time, and I hated myself for noticing it. I hated that I noticed how perfectly chiseled his square jaw was and how the dark stubble that lined it offset his full lips. Strong brows and a roman nose framed two beautiful blue eyes that were surrounded by thick, dark lashes, and his brown hair flopped to the side when he tilted his head.
“Quinn?”
I cleared my throat and diverted my gaze. I was not going to be caught checking him out. Not in a million years.
Thank God for thick winter clothing. At least there was nothing for me to admire from the chin down because it was all covered up. And for that I could only say one thing: amen, thank you, and goodnight.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest. “I didn’t know you were back in town.”
“My grandma died three weeks ago. I came in and out quickly for her funeral, but I’m here to help my parents sort her house out.”
Oh. “I did hear. I’m sorry. She was a great woman.”
He gave me a small smile. “Thanks. I wasn’t going to come back until the new year, but Mom suggested I come for Christmas, so I thought I’d save myself a headache and do that.”
“Right. But what are you doing here?”
“Oh. I saw the sign in the café window and thought I’d come on over. I thought your dad was Santa?”
“He is, but he has the flu.”
“Right. And it opens tomorrow, doesn’t it?”
“Mm. It’s supposed to. If I have a Santa.”
He held his arms out.
“What?”
“I’ll be your Santa.”
I stared at him. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Why would I be kidding?” He frowned, loosening his scarf. “Quinn, I have nothing to do while I’m here. Do you have any other options?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Then what’s the issue? I’m a science teacher. I have all the necessary checks to be around kids, and everyone with kids in town already knows me. Surely my presence solves your problem.”
You.
You are the fucking issue, asshat.
I sighed and looked around the grotto. “Nicholas, I’m running the grotto while my mom looks after Dad. I’m not sure it’s a good idea for us to work together.”
“Why not?”
“Because the last time I saw you, we were naked in a motel room.” I met his gaze. “And this is the first conversation we’ve had since that day.”
“That was nine years ago, Quinn. Are you still pissed about that?”
“Am I still pissed about it? Do I look happy to see you?”
He took a step back. “Not particularly.”
“Then there we go.” I turned around and stopped. “Look, this isn’t going to work. I’d rather delay the opening than spend any more time than necessary with you.”