Just Desserts (Main Street Merchants Book 4)

by Amelia C. Adams

  “That’s pretty cool,” she replied, mesmerized by watching him stir the paint. “It’s awesome that you can carry on that legacy.”

  “Yeah, my dad still likes to call me and ask if I’m taking good care of the customers.”

  “Are you and your father close?”

  “He’s my best friend,” Jonah replied easily, without any trace of embarrassment. Quinn liked that. Her parents were her best friends too, and this commonality was something she would look for in a potential husband. If she ever got around to that point, that is. Not that she was looking, and definitely not like she was looking at Jonah. That would just be silly—and she wasn’t about to turn into another Helen and start gushing all over him. It was very much not her style.

  Jonah lifted the stirring stick and nodded with satisfaction at the paint dripping off the end. “Do you have any scraps of this wallpaper border left over? I’m going to need about twelve feet.”

  “I don’t know, but I can go check.” Quinn stood and walked into the back storage area, where they kept all their little odds and ends. She did find some border left over from their most recent renovation the year before, but there was only about a foot.

  “Not helpful, I’m afraid,” she said. “But we got it at Flannery’s Hardware. Want me to run down there and see if they still have any?”

  “That would be great.” Jonah picked up a brush and began painting the frame.

  Quinn took a deep breath as she walked out of the bakery, filling her lungs with air that was fresh and not filled with sawdust. She stepped across the street and headed west, grateful again that the glass shards and the sawdust were contained to the lobby area of the bakery only. If any of that were to come into the kitchen, the cleanup would be nightmarish, and it was bad enough to think about in the first place.

  “Hey, Mr. Flannery,” she called out as she stepped into the hardware store. The place looked like it had been taken right out of an episode of Little House on the Prairie—it had that old-time general store feel to it, but when you looked closer, you could tell that the merchandise was anything but outdated. Mr. Flannery carried every tool for every possible job, plus a whole range of wallpaper, carpeting, laminate flooring, countertop material, cabinets—it was amazing how much he managed to fit into his small space.

  “Back here.”

  She stepped around a display of wall blind samples to find Mr. Flannery in deep discussion with Ellie, his daughter, who was also his floor manager.

  “Hey, guys,” Quinn said. “I need some more of this border, if you have any.”

  Ellie took the piece she held out. “I don’t know if we have any on display, since it’s from last year, but I’m pretty sure we have some in the back, don’t we, Dad?”

  Mr. Flannery glanced over. “Yeah, think we do. But what about these shutters? They aren’t going to organize themselves.”

  Ellie laughed. “I’ll be right back, Dad.”

  She took Quinn with her back into the stock room. “We don’t typically allow customers in here, but I need you to hold the ladder,” she said. She grunted a little as she climbed up a set of shelves that looked more like scaffolding than anything. “We’re so sorry about what happened,” she said as she climbed. “We’ll give you twenty percent off anything else you need to make the repairs.”

  “Thanks, Ellie. I really appreciate it.” Quinn held on to the ladder a little more tightly, not feeling entirely comfortable with the way everything was starting to sway. It didn’t seem to bother Ellie at all, though, as she dug through some boxes.

  “I noticed Jonah’s truck outside the bakery,” Ellie commented.

  “Yeah, he’s doing the repairs.”

  “You’ve got the best in town. And isn’t he yummy?”

  “I guess.” Quinn shifted a little bit. Why was every woman in town obsessed with Jonah Owings? It’s like she couldn’t go two seconds without someone wanting her to gush over how hot he was. Honestly. Like there weren’t other single men in town. There were lots. Lots!

  “Yeah, he comes in here all the time,” Ellie went on, obviously not noticing that Quinn was growing more agitated by the second. “He gets most of his supplies here, and we cut him a good deal because he’s a contractor and he buys in bulk. I have to say, it always brightens my day to see him come in. And look—I just found the border. Heads up.”

  Quinn caught the package and set it on the shelf nearest her so her hands would still be free to hold the ladder while Ellie climbed down. “Thanks so much for finding it. I didn’t realize you’d have to risk life and limb for it.”

  Ellie shrugged once she was on the floor again. “We’ve got a really weird storage system back here. I keep telling Dad that I want to gut it all and start from scratch, but he’s pretty set in his ways.” She glanced at the package. “Let’s say five bucks.”

  “But that’s more than a twenty-percent discount,” Quinn said, showing Ellie the price tag. “You’ll lose money.”

  Ellie waved her off. “Don’t worry about it. We’d probably just end up putting it out for our clearance sale at the end of the year anyway.”

  Quinn wrote the Flannerys down on her mental list of people who would be getting a thank-you cookie tray as soon as the kitchen was back up and running.

  “So, Jonah’s really quiet about his personal life,” Ellie said as she rang up Quinn’s purchase. “I don’t suppose you know if he’s dating anyone right now.”

  “I barely know him at all,” Quinn replied. “He hasn’t said anything to me.”

  “Maybe I’ll just flat-out ask him next time he comes in.” Ellie grinned. “Couldn’t hurt anything, right?”

  “No, I guess it couldn’t.” Quinn faked a smile as she took the sack. “Thanks again.”

  As she walked back across the street, she made another mental list—this one of all the single men in town who were not Jonah Owings. Alex and Bryce from the art gallery. Jesse from the outdoors store. Hunter from the restaurant—although he’d just left town. Never mind. “And don’t forget Tyler from the portrait studio,” she said aloud as she walked into the bakery.

  Jonah looked up. “What?”

  Quinn blushed. “Um, nothing. Just making a list. Of people in town. Hey, look what I have,” she said, holding up the package.

  “Great. Was Ellie there?”

  “Yeah. She helped me find it.”

  “Did she mention me at all?”

  What? How did Quinn get in the middle of this? She felt like she’d just walked in on two people kissing and needed to find a way to leave the room without calling attention to herself. “She did bring you up.”

  Jonah glanced at her and then back to the wall he was touching up. “And? What did she say?”

  Quinn really had no idea how to answer that. “Um, what would you like to know?”

  Jonah turned to her with a look of pure exasperation. “Is my special order in yet?”

  “What?” She was not expecting that question at all.

  “My special order. Of laminate flooring. For the art gallery. Is it in yet?”

  “Oh. Um, no, she didn’t say anything about it.”

  “Dang. I hoped to start laying it Monday.” He smoothed out the last bit of spackle. “Did you notice how nicely that spackle went on? Nice and smooth, just like frosting?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I saw. Let’s just rub it in.” Quinn handed him the wallpaper border. “Everything looks really good.”

  “As soon as the spackle’s dry, I can paint this patch, and we’re done. I’ve got a fan in the truck—I’ll grab it and set it up to speed up the process a little bit.”

  “You’ve got the glass in already?”

  Jonah raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”

  “Sure. Why do you ask?”

  He reached out and tapped the window with his fingertip. “I had one of the guys come help me and we lifted this in while you were at Flannery’s. I thought you noticed.”

  Quinn’s face was on fire. “I was distracted
, I guess. Ellie and I . . . got to talking . . . and it kind of unfocused me.”

  Jonah grinned. “Well, the glass is installed. How does it look?”

  “Really nice,” she said truthfully, now that she was actually looking at it. “I didn’t realize you could put it up so quickly.”

  “This is why people hire me.” He buffed his nails on his sleeve. “I’m fast, I’m accurate, and I’m good at what I do. Plus my friend gave me a hand. And I still need to caulk in some edges. But yeah, it’s in there. Now let me grab that fan.”

  Quinn took the five minutes he was outside to compose herself. Good grief—what was this guy doing to her? She’d never felt so out of balance as she had since he walked into her life. It was like his entire life’s mission was to keep her off kilter.

  Jonah brought in the fan and also his industrial shop vac. He got to work cleaning up the sawdust and throwing wood scraps into the back of his truck, and Quinn grabbed the ammonia and towels and went to work on the display case and all the wall shelves. Once Jonah had done everything he could with the vac, he grabbed a broom and went over everything again, and then finally, he gave the floor a good mopping. By that time, Quinn had wiped everything down twice and had checked the kitchen for the fourth time to make sure nothing had blown into there. The place looked great.

  “So, listen,” Jonah said after he put all his equipment back in his truck, “you owe me a class.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  He rested one elbow on the counter. “That wall has to dry for about two hours before I can finish touching up the paint and hanging the new border. So I have a proposition for you.” The way his eyes sparkled when he said it, Quinn half expected him to suggest that they fly to France or something. “I’ll go work on the gallery for a couple of hours, and you go get some rest. You still look pretty beat. Not in a bad way,” he hurried to explain, holding up both hands, “but I can tell you’re tired. Meet me back here at seven and I’ll finish up the wall, and then you can show me what I missed the other night.”

  “Okay,” Quinn said, surprised at this idea, but liking the sound of it.

  “Okay. Now, I’m going to put some wood bars across the window on both sides just as added support while everything dries, and then I’ll remove those later. Don’t touch anything, all right?”

  “Girl Scout’s honor,” she replied. “And yes, I really was a Girl Scout.”

  He grinned. “Okay, see you here at seven.” He placed the wood supports where he wanted them, and then he was gone.

  Quinn couldn’t help but smile as she drove home. The last two days had been crazy—beyond crazy. But the people of the town—and especially Jonah—were somehow making everything turn out all right.

  * * *

  Quinn parked her car outside the hospital and hurried inside, clutching the large bouquet of balloons she’d picked up on the way. She supposed she could have just gotten one at the hospital’s gift shop—it would have made driving here easier, without having to bat balloons out of her face every two seconds—but she hated paying the over-inflated prices. She laughed at her unintentional pun as she approached the information desk.

  “Excuse me. I’m here to see Marco D’Angelo.”

  The lady behind the counter looked it up on her computer. “Ah, yes. He’s in room three twelve. Take the elevator at the end of the corridor.”

  Quinn thanked her and struggled to get all the balloons between the elevator doors before they closed. Once they were all safely tucked inside, she sighed with relief. She’d had visions of one of the balloons being stuck outside and what that would do to the whole bouquet when the elevator went up.

  She found the room easily enough and stuck her head in cautiously, not wanting to disturb Mr. D if he was asleep. But he was awake and chatting with Maggie, and they both looked up and smiled when she came in.

  “Quinn,” Mr. D said, motioning her to come closer. “Tell me about my bakery.”

  Quinn glanced at Maggie, who nodded. “Well,” she began, “it’s being repaired. The sealant around the glass is just setting right now, and it all looks great.”

  Mr. D shook his head. “I still can’t believe I did that. I just thought . . . I thought I’d go for a little drive. It was such a nice day, and I didn’t see anything wrong with a spin around the block.”

  Maggie patted his shoulder. “It’s all right, Marco. You heard Quinn—the repairs are almost done, and the window looks great.”

  “But the car . . .”

  “We got a call from the mechanic,” Maggie explained. “They had a hard time locating replacement headlights because the car’s so old. They can order them in, but they don’t have them on the shelf, and it took them an hour of phone calls to track down a place to get them. They’re going to have the car at least nine days, maybe two weeks.”

  “I’m sorry, Maggie,” Mr. D said. “I had no idea. I thought I’d just go for a little spin around the block. No harm in that, right?”

  Quinn could tell he was becoming agitated, so she changed the subject. “The cake decorating class is coming along really well,” she said. “All the students are having such a good time.”

  “Oh, I’m glad.” Maggie was still rubbing Mr. D’s shoulder. “Isn’t that great, Marco?”

  “Yeah, yeah, it’s great. Quinn is great. I have no doubt.” He waved a hand as if telling the whole situation to go away. “When can I go home?”

  “They’re saying tomorrow,” Maggie told him.

  “You can drive past the bakery and see the window on your way home,” Quinn suggested. “You’ll love it. The contractor said it wasn’t put in very well to start with, so he did an extra-good job for you.”

  “So, that’s it. I didn’t drive through the window—it jumped out and landed on me.” A slight twinkle entered Mr. D’s eye.

  “Exactly. Nothing to worry about at all.” Quinn could tell that he was getting tired, so she decided it was about time to leave. “Let me know when they release you, okay?”

  “We will. And thanks for taking care of everything, Quinn. You’re a lifesaver,” Maggie replied.

  Quinn took the corridor more slowly than she had coming in. Mr. D didn’t look good at all. No one looks excellent in a hospital, but his skin looked chalky, and she thought she’d detected a faint tremor in the hands that had always been so steady. She’d known this was coming—she’d known it for a long time. But now she’d have to face reality and admit that Mr. D was getting old.

  Chapter Six

  Jonah showed up right at seven and tapped quietly on the bakery door. Quinn tucked the remainder of her dinner—a rather sad-looking peanut butter and jelly sandwich—under the counter and went to let him in. She felt awkward. Even though they’d spent time together during the window repair, this was the class to make up for the one he’d missed when she threw him out. She’d acted like an idiot, and she had a lot to live down.

  When she opened the door, the first thing she noticed was the pizza box in Jonah’s hands.

  “I came straight from work and didn’t have a chance to eat,” he said by way of greeting. “I hope you don’t mind—it’s a large, and I figured we could share.”

  “Of course I don’t mind.” Quinn moved aside and made room for him to step past her. “You just made my dinner look even more pathetic than it already was.”

  They sat and ate, not saying much during the meal, and Quinn eyed the last piece. It had more than the usual number of olives, and she loved olives.

  “You want that piece, don’t you?” Jonah asked.

  “Yes, I do, actually.”

  “Well, so do I. This creates a problem.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “It does?”

  “Of course. Two people, one item—the math doesn’t work.”

  “I could grab a knife and we could share it.”

  “We should, but I want the whole piece.”

  “Yeah? Well, so do I.”

  Jonah leaned back and stroked his chin. “I suggest a duel
.”

  Quinn snorted. “A duel? With what—forks? We don’t have a lot of swords around here.”

  “Well, we’d have to make some modifications. Perhaps more of a contest than a duel. I couldn’t help but notice that you have some donut holes sitting on the shelf back there.”

  “Yes, I do. I forgot them when I was cleaning out our products earlier.” Where on earth was he going with this?

  “It just so happens that in college, I held my dorm’s record for the most donut holes in one’s mouth at the same time. I challenge you to a donut-hole-mouth-stuffing contest.”

  “Wow. You must have been very bored in college.”

  Jonah shrugged. “Not a lot to do after class.”

  “How about homework?”

  “I usually got that done pretty quickly. Hence, all the extra time for donuts.”

  Quinn shook her head. “Okay. Whatever.” She crossed the room and grabbed the box. It wasn’t a big loss—she was getting ready to discard them anyway, and she was curious to see where Jonah was going with this. She set the box down in the center of the table. “What did you take?”

  “Hmm?”

  “In college. What did you take?”

  “Civil engineering. With a minor in philosophy.”

  Quinn flicked her eyes to his face to see if he was joking. He seemed perfectly serious. “That’s a pretty unusual combination.”

  “Yeah, that’s what my professors said. I had to follow both interests, though.”

  “Was any particular philosopher your favorite?”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Are you trying to figure out if I’m lying to you?”

  Quinn’s face caught fire. “Um, maybe. But I am curious.”

  “Well, I’m not lying to you, even though it sounds like I am. And as far as a favorite . . .” He opened the donut hole box while he thought. “Each of them made valid points, and each of them rubbed me the wrong way. There wasn’t one that just made sense to me start to finish. By the time I graduated, I’d decided that I should take what was good from each, discard the rest, and go from there.”