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:

I come by it naturally. You’ve got ten minutes.

Quinn shoved her phone away and drew a deep breath for calm. It didn’t work. She walked outside to draw in some better air. Still no calm to be had. She played a few games of Words With Friends—Skye was kicking her ass.

When she could breathe without chest pain, she moved around to the front of the café and found more people had arrived, including Mick if his dad’s truck was any indication. All of which ensured that she was no better composed when she walked in the front door.

Everyone jumped up and yelled, “Surprise!” and “Happy birthday!” . . . until they saw it was her.

Quinn sighed. “Good news,” she said. “We can eat the cake now.”

Mick broke from the crowd and came to her, reaching for her hand and pulling her into him.

Her body went, like it was made to be pressed up against his.

“There’s bad news and good news,” he said.

Eyes closed, she snuggled in. She didn’t care what it was, as long as he didn’t let go. “Tell me.”

When he didn’t speak, she pulled back enough to meet his gaze. “Bad news first.”

His mouth twitched, so she knew it couldn’t be worse than being stood up by Lena.

“We already ate the cake,” he said.

“And the good news?”

“I hid away a piece for you.”

She stared up at him and it just popped out, utterly without conscious thought or guile. “God, I love you.”

There was a beat of stunned disbelief on his part—and okay, on her part too because she had no idea where the words had come from. Horrified, she tried to pull free but Mick tightened his grip on her. “Quinn.” His voice was low and gruff with some emotion she wasn’t capable of translating at the moment.