6 Mountain Brothers for Christmas

“Would it change anything if I told you that you already were?”

“What?” I asked, my eyes wide. “Are you serious?”

“No,” he said, chuckling. “I was just hoping it'd help get you to change your mind.”

“Listen, aside from not wanting to be gossip fodder, I'm really not looking for anything serious,” I said. “And I'm especially not looking to cause drama between brothers.”

“Who said anything about drama?” His dark brown eyes drank me in. “If you're honest, up front, and aren't playing us, there won't be any drama.”

The kitchen door swung open and Quinn walked out, his eyes scanning the room for me. As soon as they landed upon me, he smiled – then he shot a dark look at his brother. Bennett caught the look and shook his head, a sly grin on his face. Quinn walked over to us at the bar, looking absolutely irritated and obviously cursing under his breath. Running a hand through his shaggy hair, he stepped up and leaned against the bar, trying to look casual.

“Ready to go, Hailey?” he asked brightly.

“Go? I asked. “Wh

ere 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.”