Her Best Men

“Go? I asked. “Where are we going?”

“You'll see,” he said, his tongue running over his bottom lip.

Bennett leaned forward across the bar and with a sparkle in his eye, said in a low voice, “I'll pick you up tomorrow night at six.”

Quinn shot him a look of pure annoyance and Bennett just kept smirking. Great. As if my life couldn't get more complicated.

CHAPTER NINE - QUINN

Boulevard Books and More was a quaint little bookstore that had been around seemingly forever. Like the Driftwood, it was just one of those institutions in Black Oak. In addition to the new titles that came out monthly, there was also a section for used books, as well as “Local Authors” tucked away in the far corner.

As we stepped inside, Mrs. Elwood smiled at us, a familiar face even after all these years. Her husband had passed away, leaving just her in charge of the place. Behind the counter, there were rare first edition books, antique toys, and unique collectibles that were also for sale. She'd said that most of her business was done online these days, but people still came far and wide for her collection of valuables. The store was filled with old rocking horses, dolls with creepy eyes that seemed to follow you as you walked through the shop – which I swore was done on purpose to keep folks from stealing – and a myriad of other trinkets from a time long past.

It was one of those unique stores that you hoped would never go away. But with Mrs. Elwood getting on in years, and no kids to take over the business, I wasn't sure how much longer Boulevard Books was going to be around. The thought of it not being open anymore, honestly, made me a little sad.

In the center of the bookstore, there were couches and chairs. A couple sat together, reading and sipping hot tea, just relaxing and enjoying their purchases.

“Do you remember that poem I read in high school?” I asked. “After my grandma passed away?”

“I think so?” she replied. “If I remember right, Mrs. Doyle praised it highly. And she didn't hand out compliments very often.”

“Yeah, and she encouraged me to submit it to a couple anthologies,” I said.

I took her by the hand and led her back to the local authors section, suddenly feeling a little queasy about showing her. I hadn't showed it to anybody – least of all, my brothers. They didn't get it and probably never would. But, I figured it'd be something Hailey would understand, and could appreciate. I skimmed the shelves until I came across the book, which had been published about five years ago. It didn't sell many copies, but Mrs. Elwood always made sure to keep a copy or two in stock, just because I was a local boy.

/> “Anyway, I submitted it like she told me to, but I didn't have real high hopes,” I said. “So, it surprised the hell out of me when it was selected for publication.”

Hailey's eyes were wide. “Wow, Quinn, that's amazing,” she said. “I honestly had no idea.”

“Well, it's not like I told anyone,” I said, flipping through the book until I came to my name. “My brothers would have never let me live it down.”

Hailey took the book from me and read my poem, which I had to admit seemed pretty childish now that I was older and had a little life experience under my belt. But, at the time, it had been what I felt. Hailey smiled as her eyes skimmed over the words on the page and it looked like a wave of nostalgia came crashing down on her.

“I do remember it,” she said softly. “I remember that it brought tears to my eyes when you read it out loud in front of the class.”

“I'm sorry,” I said.

She looked up at me, a startled expression on her face. “Why would you be sorry, silly?”

Leaning against the bookcase, I said simply, “Because I made you cry. That's the last thing I would have ever wanted to do, Hailey.”

“I cried because it was so beautiful,” she said. “You have a way with words, Quinn. You can really make people feel something. That's an amazing gift and isn't something you should be ashamed about. Nor is it something you should try to hide, either.”

She held onto the book, tucking it underneath her arm instead of putting it back on the shelf.

“I'm not ashamed, it's just not what men in my family do.” I shrugged. “We're not supposed to be in touch with our emotional side. We're supposed to tuck feelings down deep inside and be stoic. After all, I come from a long line of football players. Tough guys. That's who everyone expects me to be, so it's who I pretend to be.”

“But you don't have to pretend to be someone you're not,” she said, her lips curling up into a soft smile. “Especially now. High school is long over. We're adults now and are free to be who we want to be. If writing makes you happy, write. Don't even think twice about what anyone else has to say.”

“What if I told you that being here with you makes me happy?” I said.

Color rushed to her cheeks as she stared down at the floor. “Listen, Quinn – ” she started to say, but I kissed her before she could say another word.

Her lips tasted minty, and they tingled as they touched mine. They were so soft and luscious, they felt amazing and I got lost in the moment, slipping my tongue into her mouth. As soon as our tongues touched though, she gasped and pulled away from me, stumbling backward and nearly falling over, a look of absolute shock and mortification on her face.

I caught her arm. “Careful now,” I laughed. “I didn't mean to knock you off your feet there.”

She avoided my gaze and muttered something so low, I couldn't make out what she'd said.