Page 83 of Parker
Quinn knocks on my cabin door holding a huge, wrapped box.
“What in the world did you get my gran?” I ask him, shaking my head as he steps into my cabin.
He places the box on the sofa, then turns around, pulling me into his arms and kissing me. And when I say he kisses me, I mean he hasn’t let up on the sort of toe-curling, spine-shivering, fingers-fisting kisses we shared in Vegas. I breathe him in, this man who has transformed himself from my enemy to my lover in the span of a month. I’m in love with him. Madly. Wildly. And, I think, forever.
When he draws away, he grins down at me, his dimples caving in his cheeks. I told him I like seeing them, and he keeps his beard short and neatly trimmed now, so they’re always on display.
“Remember when your gran was complaining a couple weeks ago about her lower back? And you said she should use Tanner and McKenna’s hot tub?”
“Yeah. And she said she didn’t want to risk interrupting the honeymooners.”
“Which is why I got her one!”
“Quinn…you got my gran a hot tub?”
He smiles wide, nodding his head. “Yep! A Coleman, four-person, inflatable Saluspa with 120 bubble jets. Takes about twenty minutes to set up. Less if Tan and Sawyer give me a hand.”
“You’re something, you know that?”
“Something good?” he asks me.
“Something wonderful,” I tell him, laying my forehead on his shoulder.I love you. The words hover on the tip of my tongue, dancing a minute, and begging me to sing.
Not yet, I tell them.Be patient. Your day will come. I promise.
“I love you, baby,” he says close to my ear. “I love your gran, too. I want her to be comfortable.”
“I never thought I’d say this in a million years, but you’re the best, Quinn Morgan.”
“Is it me?” he asks. “Or is it getting hot in here? Should we take off some clothes?”
I laugh at him. “As much as I’d like to get naked and fuck your brains out, I think we need to get over there. Party started ten minutes ago, and I’ll be missed if I’m not on time.”
“Raincheck on fucking my brains out?”
“Absolutely,” I tell him over my shoulder, all saucy as I pull on my parka and slip my feet into boots. “Just give me a few hours.”
“Dear God,” he mutters, hefting that enormous box onto his shoulder and following me out the door, “let this party fly by!”
I feel happy as I walk beside him from my cabin to the lodge, which is lit up like the Fourth of July with lanterns and twinkle lights. Music from Gran’s birth year, 1948, drifts from the lodge on a chilly February breeze, the hum of jovial conversation a fitting baseline. A good two hundred people will be here tonight to wish her well, many of them lifelong friends.
Snowmobiles, two Sno-Cats, and a vast array of four-wheel-drive vehicles are parked haphazardly between the campground’s entrance and the lodge. Snow makes it hard to have well-defined spaces. We weave around them like an obstacle course before hopping up the lodge steps together.
Quinn places his gift on the floor beneath an overflowing table of wrapped presents, and we throw our coats on an ever-growing pile in the corner of the room. At least a dozen folks will go home with their neighbor’s coat at the end of the night. Itmakes for a fun game of “Return the Coat to the Proper Owner” in the week ahead.
The opening guitar chords of “The Twelfth Street Rag” lure four of five older couples onto a makeshift dance floor. The night is still young. Right around midnight, Gran will play Bing Crosby’s version of “Now Is The Hour,” for a final slow dance, and everyone will know that the first day of her 78thyear has come to an end, and it’s time to go home. That said? There are a fun five hours ahead.
“Parker! You’re here! Hey, Quinn!”
Harper, whom I’ve long forgiven for setting up me and Quinn on a surprise babysitting date several weeks ago, kisses my cheek first, then Quinn’s.
“You two look so good together! I love it!”
“Thanks, Harp,” says Quinn, smiling at my sister.
Over the last few weeks, since our surprise setup, in fact, I’ve noticed a warm and loving rapport building between my big sister and my boyfriend. She’s been our biggest ally and supporter, and I’m so grateful to her for seeing our potential even beforeIdid. But her kindness to me highlights how much I miss Reeve, and how increasingly angry I am that my little sister won’t come around to accepting my relationship with Quinn. Maybe I’ll try to mend fences with her tonight.
“Is Reeve here?”