Quinn did her best to ignore this. “We doing this or not?”
“Does this mean you’re no longer fighting over that incredibly sexy package named Mick?” Trinee asked.
Quinn did her best not to react to that. “We’re not fighting over a man.” There was no way to explain that Lena really wanted Boomer, she just wanted him sober, and that Quinn had already blown it with Mick, so there was no fighting because she and Lena were both equal idiots. “She’s sad and feeling alone on her birthday, which no one should feel.” And okay, so she was projecting, sue her. “Look, are you guys going to help or what?”
They all stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. Then Greta tossed up her hands. “Fine. I’m in. And yeah, we’ll bake the cake.”
Quinn turned to Tilly, who gave an impressive eye roll, doing her best to remain sullen even though Quinn could tell she was into it. “If I have to,” she said.
“Good. Text, e-mail, or call everyone you all know. Here, tonight. Lena’s working until seven. Have everyone get here before then so we can surprise her.”
An hour later her phone rang.
“So you finally lost it,” Mick said.
“I lost it a long time ago,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady at the shock waves his voice sent through her. She missed him. “So you’ll have to be more specific than that.”
He chuckled and the sound scraped at all her good spots and made her ache. “You’re having a surprise birthday party for my ex.”
Well, when he put it like that . . . “It’s her birthday and she’s alone and sad.”
“She’s alone and sad because she wants to be alone and sad. If she’s even alone or sad. More likely, she’s playing you.”
“She’s not,” Quinn said. “She needs a friend and so do I.”
Silence.
“Mick?”
“I’m here,” he said. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I do.” Sort of. Or not at all . . . “I need you to get Boomer here.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible.”
“Don’t let him give up on her.”
“Actually,” he said, “that’s exactly what he’s not going to do, but he’s got to go take care of some things first.”
Quinn stilled. “Rehab?”
“How did you know?”
“Would you buy that I know everything?”
He laughed low in his throat, the sound sexy as hell.
“Has he left yet?” she asked.
“Tomorrow.”
“Then bring him.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said.
“Always,” she said. Or you know, never . . .
“You sell your car yet?”
“No,” she said. “I think the price is too high. I need to lower it so I can get renovation money.”
“For the house and café,” he said.
“Yes. I’d like to make some updates to the house especially.”
Mick was quiet a minute. “Feels a little like you’re looking to stay.”
It was her turn to be quiet. “I’m thinking about it.”
“For what it’s worth, I think it’s a great decision.”
She drew in a deep, shaky breath. “So you’ll come tonight?”
“If you want me to before I head out.”
Her heart dropped. “Head out?”
“Back to the Bay Area.”
Right. Just because a part of her brain was toying with staying in Wildstone didn’t mean he was. He wouldn’t. She knew that. “Yes, please,” she said.
“Then I’ll see you later.”
When they disconnected she felt the oddest urge to call him back and . . . what? She had no idea. Hell, she just wanted to listen to him read the back of a cereal box.
She stared out the back window. From here she could see Jared and Hutch’s yard. She knew now that they were married and in their midthirties.
And they were running around outside in bare feet with water pistols, soaking each other and laughing so hard they kept slipping. She stared at them and felt a yearning come over her so strong she had to sit down.
She’d spent a lot of time trying to make relationships perfect, when all that was really needed was someone who’d laugh with her for the rest of her life.
She was pretty sure that person was Mick.
Her phone buzzed again.
“Someone said you’re having a party for your archnemesis,” Cliff said.
Quinn blew out a breath and struggled to switch gears away from her staggering realization. “We came to a truce.”
“Who got Mick?”
Quinn tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling. “It’s not all about guys, you know.”
There was a smile in Cliff’s voice when he spoke. “I’m going to take this as a good sign that Wildstone’s growing on you and you won’t be leaving.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. You want to scan and e-mail me the guardianship papers to sign? I think she’s almost convinced.”
“Which she?” he teased. “You or her?”
She smiled. “Both.” Or so she hoped . . .
BY SIX O’CLOCK that night, the café was filling up. She’d demanded that people come and . . . they did. Everyone in town it seemed. The place echoed with laughter and chatter and the scent of good food as people helped decorate. Even Tilly got into the spirit of things, stringing lights across the ceiling.
At seven, they all hid behind the counter. This was no easy feat and there were more than a few squabbles.
“Get off me!” Big Hank said to Not-Big-Hank.
“Why is your hand on my ass?” Greta asked Lou.
“That’s not my hand . . .”
Which caused a tussle until Trinee put her fingers to her mouth and let out an ear-piercing whistle that had everyone shutting up.
“Better,” she said.
Fifteen minutes later, there was still no sign of Lena, so Quinn went to the kitchen and called her. “Where are you?” she demanded.
“At home,” Lena said. “In my pj’s having a Real Housewives marathon with a pizza. Happy birthday to me.”
Quinn pressed her fingers to her eye sockets. “You were supposed to come here at seven. To have dinner with me.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m tired. And coming down with a cold. So I’m not coming.”
Dammit. “Listen to me,” Quinn said. “I put together a party for you. It’s supposed to be a surprise—”
“Oh, I know all about it.”
Quinn pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it before bringing it back up. “If you knew, then why aren’t you here?”
“I already told you,” Lena said casually. “I don’t want to. I’m not coming to a pity party.”
“It’s not a pity party!”
“Swear it,” Lena said. “Swear that your plan wasn’t to be nice to me because you felt sorry for me.”
Quinn closed her eyes and counted to five. “How about I swear not to be nice to you?”
Lena paused. “That might work.”
Quinn ground her back teeth into powder. “Okay, then I swear not to be nice to you. Now get your skinny ass dressed and down here right now or—”
“I’m going through a tunnel,” Lena said. “About to lose reception—”
“Lena, I swear to God—”
Disconnect.
Quinn growled and texted her.
QUINN:
You’ll never guess who just pulled into town for gas on his way home to Hollywood and needs a haircut from Wildstone’s best hairdresser. I’m holding him hostage here. If you don’t show up, I’ll do his hair myself and tell him you trained me.
LENA:
You’re such a bitch.
QUINN: