From Boss to Bridegroom by Karen Kirst Page B

sisters were my only friends. I didn’t think it strange until around age eight. I noticed Juliana, Megan and the twins had friends who weren’t family members, boys and girls who
chose
to spend time with them. I wondered why I didn’t. Then Kenneth and his buddies started a wild rumor that I was a witch’s offspring and had been left on my parents’ porch as a baby.” Grimacing, she fingered a rogue curl, stretching the strand and releasing it to spring back into place. “Since I didn’t look anything like my other sisters, the school kids latched on to it.”
    â€œThat’s ridiculous.” He seemed transfixed by her hair, as if he really wanted to test its texture.
    Mouth dry, she moistened her lips. “I tried to be more like my sisters but eventually concluded it was a waste of time. I would never measure up. So I stopped trying to please others. Told myself their opinions didn’t matter.” At his sad expression, she hastened to add, “I don’t mind being alone. I have plenty to keep me busy.”
    Liar
,
she told herself.
You want what Megan and Juliana have, what the twins share. You crave connection. Closeness. A sense of belonging.
    â€œThose people don’t know what they’re missing.” Quinn’s expression turned thoughtful. “You have a lot to offer, Nicole. I’m positive that if you were to let down your guard, people would respond to you. You’re bright and creative. Considerate. Hardworking and driven. You are as worthy of friendship as your sisters.”
    Nicole floundered for an appropriate response. His gentle praise inspired pleasure and embarrassment in equal amounts. “Sounds like you had those qualities memorized.”
    â€œIt’s a quirk of mine,” he said, and smiled sheepishly. “When I meet new people, I make lists about them in my head.”
    â€œLists.”
    â€œStrengths and faults.”
    â€œI don’t want to know the faults you’ve observed in me during our brief acquaintance.”
    â€œAttacking unsuspecting men tops the list.”
    Refusing to let him see her mortification, she smirked. “You can’t place the blame for that entirely at my feet.”
    The rear entrance bell sounded, cutting off his response. He fished out his pocket watch. “Five thirty. Awfully late for a delivery.” He paused in the doorway. “We will continue this conversation later.”
    She nodded, grateful for the interruption. Now that Quinn was privy to her private struggles, she felt exposed and vulnerable. It was not a comfortable feeling.
    The delivery was a large one. The driver had left the larger town of Maryville later than expected. Even with his help, unloading and sorting everything would take several hours. Quinn immediately cleared out the card players, closing the store several minutes early and paid a young boy to take a message to Nicole’s mother letting her know she’d be late and he would see her home. He’d promised to treat her to supper at Plum’s when they’d finished. Nicole wasn’t sure she wished to dine alone with him, however. He couldn’t know how an outing like that could be misconstrued. At least at the Independence Day picnic, they’d be surrounded by her family.
    It was nearing eight o’clock when she and Quinn put the last of the perishables in the springhouse. Her arms and upper back muscles ached, as did her feet, and hunger gnawed at her. The ham, bread and palm-size portion of strawberries she’d had for lunch seemed very long ago.
    Unable to stand to his full height in the small, squat building, Quinn hung a slab of dried beef from the low-slung rafters. “That’s the last of it. Are you ready to head over to the café?”
    Nicole shoved the last crock into the corner. Hunger drove her answer. “More than ready.”
    â€œI hope chicken and dumplings is on the menu,” he