The Sweetest Thing Read Online Free PDF Page A

stepped out into the late-night chill, disappearing out of sight.
     
     
    Rachel linked her arm through Quentin’s as she leaned her body against his. “How are you holding up?” she questioned as he maneuvered the way to her car.
    He cast his eyes down to look at her. “I’m fine, Rachel,” he answered, his expression stoic.
    “I’m worried about you.”
    “You don’t need to be,” he said. “I really am okay.”
    They came to a stop beside her silver Cadillac XTS. Rachel nodded, pausing for a brief moment. She turned to face him, pressing her palms against his broad chest. “If you want, you can come stay with me tonight,” Rachel said. The invitation hinted at offering him more than comfort as she brushed her hand along the line of his profile, an index finger lightly brushing his lower lip.
    Quentin gently grabbed her wrists and held them. “I appreciate the offer,” he responded, “but tonight’s not a good night, Rachel.”
    “There never seems to be a good night for you, Quentin.”
    “That’s because you and I don’t have that kind of relationship!”
    “We could. I’m not saying we should get married or anything but we could be great friends with benefits,” she intoned. “You know how I feel about you. We have history, Quentin!”
    Quentin sighed. He reached for the driver’s-side door and opened it. “Please be careful going home,” he said as they locked eyes.
    There was no missing the disappointment on her face. Quentin shook his head from side to side. “I swear, Rachel. You and I have this conversation at least once a week. Can we not do this today of all days, please?”
    Rachel hesitated then nodded her head. “I didn’t mean . . .” she started.
    Quentin held up his hand to stall her comments. “Don’t worry about it.”
    A heavy silence dropped down between them. Quentin was still holding the car door open for her to get inside. He looked past her shoulder and tossed a hand up to wave good-bye to friends who were finally heading home. Turning back to the bakery he peered through the windows, noting that nothing remained of the crowd inside Just Desserts, his staff beginning to clean up. “I need to get back inside,” he said finally.
    Rachel nodded. “Before you do, what do you think about her?”
    “What do I think about her who?” he asked, knowing full well she was referring to Harper Donovan.
    Rachel’s hand flew to her waist, her stance tightening. “Don’t play games. I was referring to Harper.”
    “I don’t think anything about her,” he said, avoiding the stare she was giving him.
    “You must have some opinion,” the woman persisted.
    “What’s your point, Rachel?” Quentin asked. “What does it matter? I’m sure once we finish settling Pop’s affairs she’ll head back to Louisiana and that’ll be it.”
    Rachel raised an eyebrow. “Why are you snapping at me?”
    “I wasn’t snapping,” Quentin snapped a second time.
    An air of tension replaced the awkward silence that had dropped down over them earlier. Rachel had not missed the look in Quentin’s eyes as he’d sat talking to Harper, questioning her about her business and sharing his opinion about the relationship between clients and vendors in the wedding industry. She had often wished for Quentin to look at her that way. She blew a deep sigh.
    Stepping closer to him she wrapped her arms around his waist, her head dropping to his chest. “I’m going to miss Mr. Everett,” she said, hoping to elicit some compassion from the man.
    Quentin’s head waved from side to side. “Good night, Rachel,” he said as he pushed her away, guiding her into her car. And then he turned, heading back toward the family’s business.

    “When you’re ready to go back to your hotel room just let me know,” Troy said, easing out of the silence that had dropped down onto the table inside.
    “Thank you,” Harper responded. “Actually, I was wondering if it would be a problem if I stayed upstairs in