Her Best Friend

Several of the councillors shifted in their seats. Quinn undid the button on his jacket and slid his hands into his trouser pockets. He had the floor, and he wasn’t giving it up until he had these bastards on the run.

“Where was I? Right, the State of Victoria versus Simpkin-Gist Construction …”

TWO HOURS LATER, Amy exited the council building and stopped on the front steps to suck in big lungfuls of cool night air. She was a little light-headed after the tension of the past few hours. Her armpits were damp with sweat, she’d chewed her thumbnail down to the quick, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or jump with joy.

She owned the Grand. As of fifteen minutes ago, Quinn had talked the council into signing the sale contract. She’d had to pay more than she’d anticipated, thanks to Ulrich upping the ante, but it was hers. At last. After ten years and a last-minute rush to the finish line.

It didn’t feel quite real.

“Here you are! One minute you were standing there, surrounded by everyone, the next you were gone,” her mother said from behind her.

Amy turned to face her. “I needed some fresh air. It all got a bit crazy in there once the contract was finalized.”

The doors opened behind them and her father and Quinn joined them, both smiling broadly.

“I was just telling Quinn that I haven’t enjoyed anything so much since Mohammed Ali took on George Foreman in the Rumble in the Jungle. The way he took those councillors apart …” Her father clapped a hand onto Quinn’s shoulder and gave him an approving shake.

“It was a pleasure, believe me,” Quinn said.

Amy looked at him, standing there with his dark hair gleaming in the light from the street lamp. He’d been her knight in shining armor tonight, riding up out of nowhere and vanquishing her enemies. Her heart swelled with old, foolish emotions.

“Quinn, I don’t know what to say. You gave up your holiday—Lisa is probably cursing my name—and you won me the Grand.”

Even though she knew it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do given her unrequited crush, Amy stepped forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you! From the bottom of my heart.”

She started to pull away but Quinn’s arms came around her and the next thing she knew she was clamped against his chest and he was spinning her around.

“You made it, Ames,” he said. “Woohoo!”

His wool coat was as soft as silk beneath her hands, his body beneath it big and strong. She closed her eyes and inhaled the smell of expensive fabric and subtle, woody aftershave.

“And it only took ten years and every cent she’s ever earned,” her father said drily.

Quinn set her on her feet and she tried to look as though her heart wasn’t pounding out of control because he’d held her in his arms for a few short seconds.

“We need to celebrate,” she said. “We need to drink champagne and thank the gods that Quinn decided to become a lawyer instead of a doctor when he applied to university all those years ago.”

Her father looked rueful. “I’d love to, sweetheart, but we’ve got that lumber shipment coming in first thing. If I have a glass of wine now I’ll be useless tomorrow.”

This was true, Amy knew. For a big, shambling bear of a man, her father was a very cheap drunk.

“Maybe we can do something tomorrow night, then.” She glanced at Quinn. “How long are you in town?”

“The weekend. But you can’t go home and put on your jim-jams after a win like this. If your folks are going to wimp out, I’ll take you out.”

Her mother pretended to be offended as she gave Quinn a push on the arm.

“You watch yourself, Quinn Whitfield. Your mother and I still e-mail regularly. I can get you into big trouble if I want to.”

“My humble apologies, Mrs. P. I stand corrected.”

Amy fumbled in her bag for her notepad.

“That reminds me. I promised Louise I’d let her know what happened tonight,” Amy said. She added a note to e-mail Quinn’s mom with her news to her To Do list. Quinn’s parents had been on the road in their RV since his father retired last year, their house empty and silent next door, but like her mother, Amy kept up contact via e-mail.

When she glanced up from writing her note, Quinn was watching her with amused eyes.

“What’s with the notepad?” he asked.

“It helps me stay organized.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“It does!” she insisted.

“It’s true, Quinn. Amy is the best paint department manager we’ve ever had at the store, thanks to that little pad,” her mother said.

“Guess we’re going to lose her now, though, huh?” her father said.

Amy smiled fondly at her parents. They had never ceased to support her, even though she knew there were probably times when they’d been convinced she’d never achieve her dream. She put her arm around her father’s waist and gave him a little squeeze. He dropped a kiss onto the top of her head, his eyes suspiciously shiny. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat.

“Well, I guess we’ll leave you kids to it.”

Her parents headed home and Quinn took her elbow and started steering her toward a nondescript sedan parked at the far corner of the parking lot.

“Hey. I need my car,” she said.

“Not tonight. Tonight you’re going to drink champagne and kick up your heels and get messy drunk,” Quinn said.

She glanced at his profile as they walked, his features barely visible in the dark. Despite all the reasons why it should be wrong, it felt right that Quinn was here to celebrate with her.

She smirked as Quinn cut in front of her to open her car door for her.

“So courtly, Mr. Whitfield,” she said. “So sophisticated.”

He gave her a dry look. “I know you’re probably used to being thrown into the back of a truck or over a shoulder, but up in the big smoke we’re a little smoother.”

“Do tell,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him as she slid into the car.

He pushed the door closed and circled to the driver’s side.

“You know what we should do? Bribe Phil into selling us a bottle of champagne and take it to the Grand,” Amy said as Quinn got behind the wheel.

Phil ran the local pub and could generally be relied upon to supply a bottle of wine to desperate locals when the liquor shop was closed for the night.

Quinn pulled onto the road.