My Heart to Touch

Book 1: A Maxwell Family Saga

by S.B. Alexander

Genres: YA Contemporary Romance; Clean & Wholesome Romance; Sports Romance; YA Family; YA Coming of Age; coming of age; Family Saga; sweet romance; sweet sports romance; high school romance; basketball romance

Synopsis

The shy ones are diamonds in the rough.

QUINN THOMPSON

When I walk into a room, the popular kids whisper about me. I don’t own designer clothes or name-brand shoes. I don’t wear low-cut shirts or tons of makeup either. I’m as plain Jane as a girl can get. I live on a farm, where the uniform of the day is boots, jeans, and a T-shirt unless it’s winter; then I trade my T-shirts for heavy sweaters and a parka. Baggy is my style.

But I’m considered one of the nerds in school for reasons besides my wardrobe. I have my nose in books while the popular girls have their noses up jocks’ butts. I do everything I can to avoid the in crowd at Kensington High—until a new boy waltzes in. He’s tall like my brothers, handsome like Zach Efron, and disrupts my belief that boys only want one thing. My only problem is he’ll never notice me, not if my arch-nemesis has any say.

MAIKEN MAXWELL

Basketball has been my life until my dad died. I’m trying not to get depressed, but it’s hard to breathe sometimes. He’ll never cheer from the stands at any of my basketball games or shout at me to shoot that three-pointer. I promised him I would step up if anything happened to him, and now it’s time to be the man of the house.

Only I’m torn between playing for the Kensington High basketball team and finding a job—until the girl with butterscotch hair snags my attention. She’s pretty, quirky, and her presence takes my mind off my troubles. Above all else, she makes me feel things that I’ve never felt before. In my mind, girls are just a distraction. They’re nice to look at, they talk too much, and they’re extremely pushy. Yet Quinn Thompson might change my opinion that all girls are created equal.

Release date: December 18, 2018

Publisher: Raven Wing Publishing

Print pages: 246

Sample

Chapter 1

Quinn

 

Kensington High’s basketball team carried Alex Baker’s coffin from the hearse to his final resting place. The closer they came, the louder the sobs, sniffles, and wails. 

The cemetery was packed to the gills with students, moms, dads, sisters, brothers, and everyone in the small town of Ashford, Massachusetts. I knew of Alex, but I didn’t know him like his teammates, his family, or even his girlfriend did. She was standing next to Alex’s mom, sobbing uncontrollably. Brianna Masters was the it girl in school: beautiful, popular, rich, and sometimes the biggest snob this side of the Mississippi. But stories about her were for another time. 

The day was all about mourning our number-one basketball player. Alex was loved by many, hated by few, and he’d had a future so bright that everyone had wanted to be with him, including me if I were being honest. I’d had a silent crush on Alex, even though he was two years older than my sweet sixteen years of age. Yet age didn’t matter. The age difference between my mom and dad was three years.

Despite all that, Alex had never noticed me in the girlfriend sense. He’d come from money. I came from a farm. I was shy, a trait I’d inherited from my mom. Alex had been anything but shy. When he’d walked into a room, he’d commanded it like a conductor leading an orchestra. 

When I walked into a room, the popular kids whispered about me. I didn’t own designer clothes or name-brand shoes. I didn’t wear skirts or high heels or shorts that showed off my butt. I didn’t wear low-cut shirts or tons of makeup either. 

I was as plain Jane as a girl could get. I lived on a farm, where the uniform of the day was boots, jeans, and a T-shirt unless it was winter; then I traded my T-shirts for heavy sweaters and a parka. Baggy was my style. But I was considered one of the nerds in school for reasons besides my wardrobe. I had my nose in books while the popular girls had their noses up jocks’ butts. I dared not get started on my name—Quinn Thompson. 

Tessa Stevens, my archenemy, hated by me, loved by others, ran around the school singing, “Quinn, Quinn will never win. You’ll never get the boy.”

Grrr. I tried not to swear. As my momma would say, “Quinn, God doesn’t like potty mouths.”

Tell that to Tessa.

Father Thomas opened his Bible as the team set down the coffin. The shiny mahogany wood glinted beneath the sad gray sky. A snowflake fluttered down before splattering on top of Alex. I swore it was an angel, seeping into the casket to take him up to heaven.

I believed in God. I believed that everyone standing in the cemetery to mourn Alex had a purpose on earth. I was raised a good Catholic girl. I went to church every Sunday with my parents and two brothers. I worked hard on the farm and even harder at my schoolwork. I followed the Ten Commandments. But I couldn’t promise myself or anyone that I wouldn’t break the fifth commandment, “Thou shall not kill,” if Tessa Stevens kept giving me the stink eye.

She stood on the other side of the casket with her inky-black hair tucked under a knitted hat. Her bright-red lips stuck out like a spot on Mimi’s body. My cow was prettier than Tessa. Okay, I was getting a little out of control. It would be impolite of me to stick out my tongue at my nemesis. So I lifted my chin and smiled, something I rarely did in front of her. Lately, I’d mostly been crying, not around her but in the confines of my barn loft or bedroom. 

She’d beaten me in every possible way. She’d gotten the boy. She’d gotten the ice-skating awards. She’d even taken my best friend, Celia, from me. 

Witch was a name I only called Tessa in my head. I was silently screaming it at that moment because Celia was staring at me as though she wanted to do something to me. I wasn’t sure what. Her expression was a cross between I’m sorry and I hate you. 

“Ignore her,” my oldest brother, Carter, said in my ear. 

My brothers were protective, like the Secret Service was to the president. I loved them for it, but I could handle my own matters… most of the time. That timid and shy side of me got in the way on occasion. 

But we weren’t standing out in the freezing cold to hash out my problems. We were there to mourn a legend in his own right—the school’s basketball star. People whispered at games that Alex was a god among players, a loving brother to his sister, a supportive son to his mom, who had cancer, and a devout community member, volunteering his time to the Big Brothers Big Sisters organization. 

Father Thomas began. “As we stand here today to mourn Alex Baker, we’re reminded just how precious life can be. Celebrate his life. Let us pray.”

Hanging my head, I gazed at my mud-crusted boots. I did pray. I prayed for Alex, his family, who was in tears near Father Thomas, and I prayed that the man who killed Alex would seek help for his disease. The man had gotten behind the wheel with an alcohol level well beyond the legal limit. 

Booze would never be found at my parents’ house. If my brothers drank at their high school parties, I didn’t know. I’d never gone to one, and whenever they got home, I was always in bed or in my room. Besides, they had a tendency to shield me from things. 

“We don’t want you to be tainted by all the crap that goes on at high school parties,” Carter had said to me too many times too count.

It didn’t bother me that they didn’t want me to go to the same parties as them or any party, especially one attended by Tessa. I would rather cut off my legs than be bullied by her or any of her posse. 

The crowd broke up, and I realized Father Thomas had finished his sermon. I guess he didn’t need to say much since he’d already said plenty at the church. My brothers started for the car, when Celia came running over. 

Her espresso-colored eyes were filled with tears. I suspected for Alex. “Quinn, can we talk?”

Liam ran his hands through his wavy light-brown hair, which was filled with snowflakes. “We should go.” He regarded me before he set his gaze on Celia, then he stiffened. I imagined he was angry with her for ditching me. 

I jutted out my chin at my brother. “I’ll meet you and Carter at the car.”

Celia stared at Liam, and the longer she did, the more I figuratively scratched my head at her perplexing look. It seemed as though there was some kind of silent exchange between them. 

Carter dangled his keys. “Come on, bro. Quinn, don’t take too long.”

Carter, Liam, and I had slight variations in hair color, but our eye color was the same. Momma referred to our amber eyes as the color of pennies, coppery when our emotions took a turn for the worse, and golden when we were happy and smiling.

My brothers got swallowed up in the crowd as people filtered out of the cemetery. Car doors opened and closed. Some people stayed behind and chatted. Others sniffled as they lingered by the coffin. 

Celia watched Liam and Carter leave as I studied my former best friend. Her shoulders were hunched around her ears as she nibbled on her bottom lip. 

“Care to tell me what’s going on?” I asked.

Bigger snowflakes fell to the earth.

“Celia,” Tessa called. “You’re t—” Whatever she was about to say was cut off by her mother, who jerked on her arm.

Some of the rich folks in town were weird people. In some ways, the adults had morals, and in other ways, they didn’t. I knew Tessa’s mom was a harridan. The informal way to say it was bitch, but I didn’t like calling people that. I despised when someone referred to me that way. My brothers always teased that I was a walking and talking dictionary. 

Regardless, Tessa’s mom had a way of talking down to others, including my mom. Anytime Mrs. Stevens shopped at our farm store, she treated my mother as if Momma were her slave. But my mom, Hazel Thompson, was the epitome of a saint, always smiling and helpful no matter what attitude people brought into the store with them.

Celia rolled her eyes before wiping her Rudolph nose with a tissue. “I want to be friends again. I’m sorry for what I did. Can you forgive me?”

I pursed my lips. My former best friend since the second grade had ditched me for our enemy, Tessa Stevens, as if I were a piece of trash. At the start of school in early September, Celia had wanted to begin her sophomore year with a bang. She’d wanted to live her high school years trying everything and anything she could, no matter the consequences. So Tessa, who was on the cheerleading squad, had told Celia that if she dropped me as a friend, then Tessa would vote to have her on the squad. 

What Tessa hadn’t told Celia was that in order to make the squad, my best friend had to lower herself to name-calling, spreading rumors about me, and playing pranks on me in gym class. 

Now Celia looked miserable, although her misery seemed to be linked to Liam. 

“Is there anything going on between you and Liam?” I asked.

Her perfectly plucked eyebrows lifted super high. “Where did that come from?”

I shrugged as a snowflake melted on my nose. “Call it female intuition.”

She wagged a finger between us. “Liam is probably mad at me for breaking off our friendship. If you don’t want anything to do with me, I understand.” She lowered her gaze to her shiny brown boots.

I could tell she was leaving something out about her and Liam. I also knew she was sincere about being friends again. But I wasn’t about to trust her yet. 

I pressed my lips together. “You didn’t just do one thing, Celia. You spread a rumor that I was easy. If it weren’t for Carter, the entire football team would’ve tried to get in my pants.” 

Carter was big, mean, and most students feared him. He’d garnered his reputation after Noah Talbert had stolen his bike in the seventh grade. Carter’s retaliation was shaving Noah’s head. But the rumors about Carter and what he’d done to Noah had morphed into Carter pulling a knife on Noah, which wasn’t true. 

I tucked my hands into my winter coat. “You did something far worse than telling lies about me. You violated your moral code. You lowered yourself to Tessa’s level. We pinky promised and blood promised since the second grade, Celia, that we would never stoop to Tessa’s level of witchy, easy, condescending, and have no regard for others’ feelings. We’re better than that. You’re better than her.”

Celia pushed her black-framed glasses up on her button nose. “I quit cheerleading. It’s not what I thought it would be, and I can’t stomach the way you look at me at a football game or in class. Please, Quinn.”

“I’m not going to give you ultimatums like Tessa did.” I wasn’t one to hold grudges. “How can I trust you, though?” 

“I’ll do whatever you want,” she said.

I wasn’t about to boss her around like Tessa had. “Let’s start slow. Do you want to help out at the farm store tomorrow? It’s the weekend before Thanksgiving, and the store will be busy.”

Holidays were frantic and energetic. We sold not only handmade items, but jams, jellies, eggs, and other crafty things along with Christmas trees, although it was a week too early for buying a Christmas tree.

She smiled as though a pile of bricks had been lifted off her small shoulders. “I’ll be there.”

“Quinn,” Liam called. “We got to go. Momma’s making lunch.”

I gave Celia the time to be at the store on Saturday, then I hurried out of the cemetery. Momma didn’t like when we were late for meals. Besides, I had to get a big order ready for my mom’s bestie, Eleanor Maxwell.

Chapter 2

Maiken

 

I pulled our Suburban into what looked like a mansion out of the Hollywood hills, rich, opulent, and huge. My aunt Eleanor and uncle Martin’s home was even bigger than I had imagined. 

My mom reached over with her dainty hand and touched my cheek. “Thank you for driving the rest of the way. Your dad would be proud of how you’ve stepped up to take care of us.”

Boom. My heart rammed against my sternum. Anytime she brought up my dad, I held back a bucket of tears. He’d been the best father a son could have. When he wasn’t fighting for our country in Iraq, he’d spent all his time with his family. Sadly, his life had ended on a battlefield thousands of miles from home. 

“Maiken,” my nine-year-old sister, Charlotte, called. “They have a lake. I want to go swimming.”

Everyone in the car laughed. The snow was falling hard, covering the landscape, even the windshield. I would bet the lake would be frozen soon if the twenty-degree temperature held steady.

Mom, who was in the passenger seat, turned to face our clan. I was the oldest of eight siblings. My dad had kept my mom pregnant for many years. He used to kid around with her that he wanted fifteen kids. He believed that children were the backbone of what a family was all about. 

Mom moved a strand of her dark-blond hair away from her face. “Listen up. Your aunt Eleanor and uncle Martin have invited us to stay with them until we can get on our feet. So I want you on your best behavior. Are we clear?” Mom sounded like the lieutenant colonel my dad had been in the army. As soon as my dad had left for deployment, she’d cracked the whip. 

“Yes, ma’am,” we all singsonged. 

Dad’s death was fresh and still stung hard. It’d only been two months since two military personnel had knocked on the door. As much as we had known the risks involved with Dad’s job, it didn’t make the words they’d delivered that day any easier.

As soon as my mom had opened the door, she knew Dad wouldn’t be coming home. I had as well. I was the man in charge now. I had to do everything in my power to make sure our family unit was solid. I’d promised my dad that if anything ever happened to him, I would step up. 

I couldn’t say I was stoked about the move and leaving my friends and the basketball team back in Fort Bragg, North Carolina. But my dad had taught me that sometimes we had to leave the things we loved behind to make sure that family was taken care of. My mom had done a great job on her own of keeping all of us kids in line. More than ever, she needed me to be the son my father had raised. 

When Uncle Martin had made the trip down for the military funeral, he’d made the offer to my mom. 

“I always told my brother that if anything happened to him, I would be here for you and the kids,” Uncle Martin had said. “We would love for you to consider staying with me and Eleanor until you can get on your feet. The boys are out of the house, and we have plenty of room.”

The military had given my mom benefits, but not enough to support a family of nine. 

“Mom,” Maple said. “How come you didn’t want to move to Georgia with Aunt Denise?” Maple, my eleven-year-old sister, who was sitting behind me, wanted to live by the ocean, which was where my mom’s sister had a tiny home that wasn’t big enough for all of us.

Mom set her brown gaze on Maple, who resembled Mom. Each of them had dirty-blond hair and dusting of freckles around their noses. “Aunt Denise doesn’t have the room for us. We’re here, and this is only temporary until we can get on our feet.”

“Well, I like it here already,” Harlan, Jr., said. At seven years of age, Harlan was a tornado of energy. So I imagined the enormous property surrounding the house would make my brother happy. The boy loved nature, including bugs. He was fascinated with fireflies in particular.

Someone knocked on the snow-covered window. 

I opened the door to find Uncle Martin standing tall like the former soldier he’d been. His graying honey-colored hair was starting to collect snow at a fast pace. “We’ll get the bags later. For now, let’s get everyone inside and by the fire.”

We hardly had snow in Fort Bragg, but I was sure my brothers and sisters would love to play in it. That was all they’d talked about while driving up. The newscaster on the radio had been talking about some snowstorm moving into New England. 

We piled out of the car, and I grabbed Harlan. Since we weren’t exactly experts in snow, I carried him so he wouldn’t fall on the slick driveway. My mom held onto Charlotte’s hand while the rest of my siblings climbed onto the deck, and shuffled into a kitchen I’d only seen in movies. We’d lived in military housing, and while the home was nice, it wasn’t extravagant like the one I was standing in. 

Stainless-steel appliances sparkled, pots and pans hung down over the massive island, and cabinets galore filled the space.  

Aunt Eleanor was stirring something on the stove that smelled out of this world.

I set Harlan on his feet, and he ran out of the kitchen through an arched doorway.

“Ethan,” Mom said to my fifteen-year-old brother. “Go help Harlan. He probably needs to use the bathroom.”

Ethan rolled his brown eyes as he trudged after my brother, not giving Mom any flack like he usually did. He’d been super quiet since Dad’s death. I was worried about him, but I was hoping the move would help him clear his head.   

“We’re so happy you decided to come,” Aunt Eleanor said. 

Aside from my dad’s funeral, I had only seen my aunt one time when I’d been a tike. Apparently, she’d been in a mental-health facility after my cousin, Karen, died. Nevertheless, she looked exactly like Elizabeth Taylor.

In fact, she’d turned some heads during my dad’s memorial service when she’d glided in like a Hollywood star, dressed in an expensive tailored dress. I only knew it was expensive because the ladies in the church had whispered as much.

“Kids,” Uncle Martin piped in. “Let’s head down to the family room. You can watch a movie while the men unload the car.” He eyed me, Marcus, and my thirteen-year-old brother, Jasper. 

“I’ll help too.” Emma, Ethan’s twin, batted her big brown eyes at Uncle Martin. 

“So will I,” Maple added. 

My mom smoothed two hands over her short hair. She had always complained that her hair was too long and too much trouble, so she’d cut five inches off one day. My dad had loved her new look. He’d teased her that it was easier to pepper kisses all over her neck, something he’d loved to do. 

I hoped one day I would have a loving relationship with someone, like my parents had. But I was sixteen, and girls were not on my radar. Honestly, girls were a distraction. 

My buddies would brag about their girlfriends and their first kiss or how breasts felt. I listened but didn’t see the draw. Dad had always taught me to stay focused on what I wanted, and girls, dating, and kissing weren’t high on that list. I wasn’t gay, and I wasn’t oblivious to pretty girls, but sports were more my thing, basketball in particular. Anything other than basketball and family was white noise. 

My sister Emma had told me that girls in school thought I was to die for. “Come on, Maiken,” she’d said. “You’re a boy for Pete’s sake. You got to go out on a date sometime.”

 I would when I was good and ready. In my mind, the high school girls who’d thrown themselves at me were forward, pushy, gossipy, too confident, and self-absorbed. Maybe I would change my tune someday, but right now I had bigger things to worry about like how to help my mom.

We unloaded the car and ate lunch. When the younger kids crashed on the huge couch in the family room, Uncle Martin showed Ethan and me to a large bedroom on the first floor. At first, I thought we were taking the master suite, but I learned that the room had been my cousin Kade’s. 

With six bedrooms in the house, everyone was divided up with enough room that we didn’t feel crowded, one of the perks of a mansion. 

I was unpacking my suitcase when Ethan plopped down on one of the twin beds and slumped his shoulders, wearing one of his sad expressions that had become the norm for him since Dad had passed.  

I sat across from him on the other twin bed. “What’s wrong?” I knew he wasn’t that stoked about moving.  

He lifted his head. “I want to go home. I want to see Hannah. I want to see my friends. I want Dad back.” 

I briefly closed my eyes. The one thing that had sucked the big one about Dad being in the military was moving constantly. The change hadn’t affected my younger siblings as much as it had Jasper, Marcus, Emma, Ethan, and me, although Emma was looking forward to a new school, and Jasper was much like Harlan. He loved the open space and nature. So I was sure Jasper would be fine. 

But the bigger issue wasn’t missing friends as much as wishing our dad were alive. 

I took in a huge breath, staving off the need to cry, something I’d only done when I was alone. I couldn’t let my brothers and sisters or even my mom see me break down. My family needed me to be strong, but it was difficult to mask my emotions or to get the memory out of my head of the two military men who’d shown up at our door.

“Ma’am,” one of them had said to my mom. “It is with great sadness to tell you that your husband, Lieutenant Colonel Harlan Maxwell, was killed on a mission in Iraq.”

“How?” had been my question.

“Roadside bomb,” one of the men in dress blues had said.

Ethan’s sniffling brought me back to the present. Tears were streaming down his face. 

I joined him on his bed and wrapped my arm around him. “Dude, we’ll get through this. Hey, maybe we can go to a Celtics game.” Ethan loved basketball as much as I did, but he wasn’t a Celtics fan, and neither was I. We both cheered for the San Antonio Spurs.  

He clamored to his feet, not saying a word, then locked himself in the en suite bathroom.

I could push to console him, but like all of us in the family, he needed time. So I resumed unpacking and tried to keep my mind in the moment. We had a great place to live. My mom had said it was only temporary, but I wondered how long we would be there. My dad had always said that we should make the best of where we were. So that was my motto, or at least I hoped I could take that advice.

 

Chapter 3

Quinn

 

The farm store was bustling with customers loading up on the essentials like eggs, farm-fresh milk, and other goodies. We were busier than normal, not only because of the holiday, but because a nor’easter was on its way and about to dump more snow than it had the night before. 

Momma stocked her table with jams while I unpacked a box of honey on a display next to her. She wiped her hands on her apron. “We’ll need to order more of everything.” She set her russet-colored gaze on me.

I squatted down to collect the packing slip that had fallen out of the box. “What about the eggs?” It wasn’t as if we could make our chickens produce more eggs at the snap of a finger. 

Momma laughed. “Gray’s farm will help if we run into a pickle.”

We had had to purchase more eggs last year during Easter when eggs were in high demand. 

 I rose with two jars of honey. “Momma, did Dad find any help yet?” We were hiring for the Christmas season, to help with our Christmas tree business in particular.

She plucked the last jar of jam from the box and set it on the table. “Not yet. Is the order ready for Eleanor Maxwell?” 

I continued to stack jars of honey on the table. “Yes, ma’am.” I’d made sure I had taken care of Mrs. Maxwell’s order the previous night, and all our call-ahead orders for that matter. But since Momma and Eleanor were great friends, Momma wanted to take care of her bestie. I did too. Eleanor was one of the sweetest ladies aside from Momma and Granny. 

Momma kissed me on my temple. “Thank you. Now are you going to ask Eleanor if you can use the lake this year?” She moved a strand of her dark-brown hair that had fallen out of her bun behind her ear.

I stopped in my tracks. “Are you asking if I’m going to pick up skating again?” Wow! We hadn’t spoken about me strapping on my skates in well over a year. I’d put my heart and soul into ice-skating and competing up until the eighth grade. But then I didn’t know if I’d grown out of the sport or if I’d just hated losing all the time to Tessa Stevens. 

My mom pursed her cranberry-stained lips. “Quinn, you can’t let someone like Tessa stop you from doing something you love. You still love the sport, right?”

Voices hummed around us as customers browsed.

I shrugged, even though I loved how free I felt on the ice. “Momma, I want to put all my effort into my studies. If I can make a run for valedictorian, then maybe I could get an academic scholarship to Duke University or the University of North Carolina.” Those were my top two choices, mainly because Duke’s school of medicine was ranked high in the country. If I put all my time into competing on the ice, then I wouldn’t have time to add to my college résumé and application. 

Not only that, ice-skating cost money, and we weren’t rich like Tessa Stevens. Besides, college tuition was much more expensive than we could ever afford, which was why if I was going to skate, it would be just for fun.

Momma crossed her arms over her tan sweater, her expression taking on one that said listen to me, or else I will ground you to your room. She looked beautiful no matter if she was scolding me or if she was covered in mud from trying to help Dad corral a pig who had gotten out of the pen. Then she sighed, her features loosening. “I guess I can’t argue with that. School is important, and I know you want to be a doctor. I just want to be sure you’re not letting Tessa get in your head. I know you, Quinn. You can study, make valedictorian, and skate. You don’t have to give up one for the other.”

That might have been true, but skating wouldn’t support me for the rest of my life, although I did enjoy getting out in the cold weather and doing jumps like the triple toe and Salchow or even just gliding around the ice. 

I pecked her on the cheek. “I love you. But if I do skate, it will be for fun.”

Momma moved hair off my face. “You should be having fun in high school. These next three years should be all about growing and exploring, and dare I say boyfriend too. Please don’t hide away like you did last year.”

I rolled my eyes as I thought of how awful freshman year had been. The juniors and seniors had rolled out the red carpet when it came to bullying and teasing freshmen. One senior had said it was tradition. Horse cocky. 

Sophomore year wasn’t proving to be any better. The bullying hadn’t diminished. Boys didn’t see me as girlfriend material. Most only saw me as a nerd who could help them with their schoolwork. I wasn’t interested in any of the boys in my grade. Plus, Celia had ditched me, although she had shown up to help at the store—a sign that she really did want to make amends.

I briefly considered Celia, who was working the register. “Momma, boys in my high school only think about sports and getting into a girl’s pants.” I delivered the last part in a hushed whisper. That was mostly true for the jocks, which was what we called the boys who wore letter jackets and played sports and thought they were above anyone else. 

My mom didn’t flinch. If I’d said all that to my dad, he would’ve turned dark red, gotten his shotgun out, and prepared to shoot the boy who dared to look at me. My brothers would’ve done the same. None of the boys in my school were good for me according to my oldest brother, Carter. If any boy stepped close to me when Carter was around, chaos ensued. 

But he had nothing to worry about. I’d grown up with big brothers who had taught me how to handle myself. Even Momma had made sure I knew where to kick first if the opposite sex tried anything I didn’t like. 

The bell on the door dinged, announcing more customers. They trudged in, stomping their boots on the mat to rid them of the snow. 

“The right boy will respect you. If they don’t, you remember what I taught you?”

I smiled. “Yes, ma’am. Hit them where it counts.”

Satisfied with my answer, she scurried off to help, of all people, Mrs. Stevens, Tessa’s mom. 

Celia bounced over.

I scanned the modest room, which had ten customers, but no one was ready to check out.

Celia flicked her ponytail over her shoulder. Her dark hair matched the color of her eyes, and she wore a ton of makeup, which was odd considering her mom wouldn’t let her use the stuff. “Is everything okay?” She pointed at my mom. “You two were huddled like she was giving you a speech. Did you get in trouble?”

Mrs. Stevens, who was bundled up for the winter storm, nodded at something Momma had said.

I took off one of my fingerless gloves. “We were talking about boys. Nothing special.” I wanted to trust Celia. I wanted to believe she was serious about being friends again. I did miss her, our talks, riding horses, and just playing on the farm. 

She hooked her arm in mine. “Quinn, boys are everything. Don’t you want to experience your first kiss or go out on your first date?” She sounded as though Tessa had filled her mind with dirty stuff. “I know I do.”

Celia was pretty underneath the heavy blue eye shadow and rose blush. She could’ve probably had her pick of any guy. But in my opinion, she was wrong about boys. “Why would you say they’re everything? Explain.” I had to hear her view on the topic because I only saw jocks that were self-centered, rude, and belligerent. From the conversations I’d overheard in some of my classes, the jocks bragged about whatever sport was in season or their latest conquests. And ew! I didn’t like what I’d heard on the topic of their sex lives either.

Celia guided me over to the doorway that led to the storage room and the bathroom. “Quinn, we’re women. We have needs.”

I busted out laughing. “Needs? Like in coitus?” That was the word we’d always used instead of sex. 

She playfully punched me on the arm. “Come on. Don’t you feel hot and tingly down there when you see a boy you like?”

I could feel my face turning red despite the fact that I didn’t have my eye on anyone who gave me those feelings. “Who is he?” She was crushing on someone. I’d known her too long not to see the signs of red cheeks, red neck, and that faraway look in her eyes. The last time she’d displayed all those signs, she had the hots for Danny in the fifth grade.

She studied me. “Do you really want to know?” 

“If you want to tell me.” She’d better tell me, because we were friends, and friends told each other everything.

She glanced past me. “Don’t get upset. But I have a crush on your brother Liam.”

Now their silent interaction from the day before made sense. “So you lied to me yesterday? Something is going on between you two?” I didn’t care that she had a crush on my brother or that my brother might like her. “If you want me to trust you, then you better start telling the truth.”

 She shuddered. “I kissed Liam. That’s all. The tension you saw between us yesterday was more because he’s afraid I’ll kiss him again. I don’t want to talk about it right now.” She sounded heartbroken. 

Again, I didn’t care if they liked each other, but I did wonder if her sudden apology had had anything to do with Liam. “Celia, do you want to be friends again because you want to get close to Liam?” If she said yes, then I would kick her out right then. 

Her mouth fell open. “No! I was honest when I said I miss us.” She seemed sincere in her delivery. 

The conversation was getting a little tense, and we had customers to attend to. “We can talk more later. But I will say this. Don’t use me to get to Liam.”

She pushed her glasses up on her nose. “I promise you on my grandmother’s grave that I would never do that. I need to get back to the register. Your mom is eyeing me.” She bounced off.

I believed her only because I knew how much she adored her grandmother, and Celia didn’t throw out promises easily. Still, time would tell how our friendship would evolve. 

I headed into the storeroom, thinking of what my mom had said about dating. I didn’t get a chance to dwell on the topic before my mom came in. “Eleanor is here.”

“I’ll be right out with Mrs. Maxwell’s order.” I made quick work of organizing the box of eggs, jams, marmalade, and bacon. Eleanor always had a big order, but on that day, she’d ordered double of everything. She’d mentioned to Momma that she had family coming into town. 

I collected the box and had just started to leave the storeroom when Celia flew in. 

“O-M-G. You have got to see him.” She practically dragged me out with her. I’d known Celia since the second grade, and I knew two things excited her—horses and Shawn Mendes. I didn’t see a horse anywhere in the store, and there was no way Shawn Mendes would be in our small town in Massachusetts. 

We settled in the doorway, looking out at the various customers milling around.

She leaned in. “He’s over by the hats.” 

I followed her gaze, or more like her finger, which she had pointed at what Momma would call a tall drink of water. 

“Isn’t he dreamy?” Celia cooed.

The boy’s sandy-blond hair was cut short on the sides like the men I’d seen in those military movies my dad loved to watch. 

 I wanted to ask her what had happened to her crush on Liam. Instead, I sighed like Celia had at the Shawn Mendes concert. The somewhat heavy box in my hand felt weightless.

Dreamy didn’t begin to describe the boy at all. He had a strong jaw, a somewhat crooked nose as though he’d broken it in a fight, and a broad chest. 

He tried on a beanie that my granny had made then examined himself in the small mirror we had on the counter for that very reason.

“I love how that Henley fits him,” Celia said. 

Dreamy Boy checked the price on the hat then returned it to the pile. My heart fell a notch. He was dressed nicely enough in jeans, army boots, and no jacket, which seemed odd considering the temperature was around fifteen degrees outside.

“You should go talk to him,” Celia said without looking at me.

I didn’t know if he’d heard Celia or if he felt us staring, but he lifted his head. When he did, I flinched and almost dropped the box. 

Celia waved.

The blood drained from me. “Don’t bring attention to us.” 

Granny had always said that one day, Celia would be trouble. I’d laughed many times when I’d heard that. But I was beginning to think that Granny had some foresight. 

Regardless, I didn’t need some boy to pick on me or look down at me as if I were beneath him, and Dreamy Boy was giving me that vibe until one side of his mouth turned up. Whether he was looking at Celia or me, one thing was certain—my pulse galloped as fast as my horse, Apple. I couldn’t look away. 

His big blue eyes sucked me in and gobbled me up. He had hair like James Dean—thick, sandy blond, and longer on top. His pretty lips were to die for. Yeah, I was crushing hard. 

“He kind of looks like Zac Efron only with blond hair,” Celia said. 

He certainly had those belly-tingling blue eyes like Zac Efron.

“Quinn,” Momma called a little too loudly. “Mrs. Maxwell needs her order.”

The boy’s eyes widened as though he knew Eleanor. 

I shook off my trance, left Celia standing near the fridge full of raw milk, and hurried to the register.

Eleanor beamed at me as she retrieved her wallet. She was as beautiful as ever with a furry white hat that covered her black hair. 

I set the box down, and the boy swaggered up to Eleanor. I would’ve guessed him to be either my age or one year older.

He studied me, appearing to want to eat me. Figures. When boys looked at me, they usually had one thing on their minds, especially when their eyes dragged down to my breasts. At sixteen, I was a little larger in that area than the other girls in my grade, even Celia.

I could feel my lips curling into a snarl.

Eleanor handed me her credit card. “Quinn, the lake should freeze soon if the cold temps stay like they are. Any plans to skate?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”

She touched Dreamy Boy’s arm. “My nephew, Maiken, and his siblings would probably love to learn how to ice-skate.”

Maiken? I rolled that name around in my head a few times. Odd name, but cool as well.

Maiken gave his aunt a funny look. 

Celia finally ran up. “Hi, I’m Celia,” she said to Maiken.

He nodded, not saying a word. 

“So are you new in town?” Celia asked.

I rang up the bill, waiting for him to answer, but he collected the box and left. 

Eleanor sighed. “Sorry about Maiken. You’ll have a chance to talk to him again at school. He’ll be attending Kensington High.”

Celia squealed.

I gave Eleanor a fake smile. 

When she was gone, I sighed so heavily, I blew hair from my face. I had mixed emotions about the mysterious Maiken Maxwell. I liked his looks. I didn’t like his impolite attitude.