The Romance Report (7 page)

Chapter Thirteen

The next two days passed in a blur. Quinn took her
grandmother’s advice and made her strawberry rhubarb pie much to the delight of
her uncle and the guests at his restaurant. On Saturday evening, Quinn came
home and peeled off her dough-splattered jeans and put on a pair of faded black
yoga pants and oversized t-shirt. She turned on her television and sat munching
on a bag of potato chips. She was too tired to cook dinner. If she could
motivate herself, she would get up a minute and fix herself a peanut butter and
jelly sandwich.

A knock on her door, roused her from her couch
potato state. Zach stood on her doorway with a brown paper bag in his hand.

“Hi! I see you made it back from your trip? How
was it?” Quinn asked. She liked how he sported a little bit of a five o’clock
shadow on his chin. It made him appear a little bit mysterious without being
sketchy.

“It was busy but productive. I wanted to thank you
for feeding my fish while I was gone, so I brought Chinese food. You haven’t
eaten yet, have you?” Zach held up the brown paper bag. Quinn could smell the
food and her stomach growled loudly in response. “I guess not.”

Quinn blushed in embarrassment. “I’m starving. I
was so tired from work today that I was just going to make a peanut butter and
jelly sandwich. You’re a welcome sight.”

“Stick and slide is great for lunch but doesn’t
cut it for dinner.” Zach walked in and set the bag on the table. He pulled
several white containers and some cellophane-wrapped egg rolls from the bag.
“Where are your plates?”

“I’ll get them.” Quinn opened her cupboards and
pulled out two plates. She grabbed some silverware and a pitcher of iced tea
from her refrigerator. “Stick and slide?”

“That’s what my mom used to call peanut butter and
jelly sandwiches when we were kids,” Zach explained. “The peanut butter is
sticky, but the jelly is all ooey, gooey and slides across the bread.”

“Ah. Makes sense. I don’t think my mother called
them anything. Of course, my grandmother was the one who would pack my lunch
for school and she would send enough to food for the entire class.” Quinn
opened the containers. She saw that he’d ordered one of her favorite dishes,
Black Pepper Chicken. She scooped onto her plate and then handed the container
to Zach. “You brought my favorite Chinese dish.”

“Good. I took a stab in the dark. Since the drink
you fixed me the other evening was spicy, I figured a spicy dish would be
okay.”

“You picked well,” Quinn said and took a bite. “Mm
mm…you have no idea how yummy this is right now. You are my hero.”

“It was the least I could do. I really do
appreciate you feeding the fish. They aren’t much of a pet, but I like to look
at them. I find them peaceful.”

“Not a problem. Anytime you need a fish sitter,
I’m your gal. Easiest job in the world.”

“So how is the new job going?”

“Great! I love it! My desserts even got mentioned
in a review of the restaurant.”

“That’s awesome. I’m still holding you to your
promise to teach me to cook. Once I get done with this latest job, I’ll be home
more and you can teach me how to boil water.”

“The key to great boiled water is in the water,”
Quinn said with a wise nod of her head. “I wasn’t being nosy, but I saw you had
the latest Christoff novel on your shelf. He is my all-time favorite writer.”

“Mine, too. I always think I know who the criminal
is, but I’ll miss some vital clue and when I get to the end, it’s always a
surprise. You can never go wrong with a good suspense novel.”

“Mystery and suspense are my favorite, too. Same
thing with movies,” Quinn said. She took another bite of her chicken. Her
stomach rumbled in appreciation.

“I like a good suspense, but action comes in a
close second. Don’t tell anyone,” Zach lowered his voice, “but I’m a huge
Jackie Chan fan. Favorite actor of all-time.”

“Really?” Quinn wrinkled her nose in puzzlement.
“I like him okay, but I’ve only seen one or two of his films.”

“He is underappreciated as an actor,” Zach said
seriously. “He does all his own stunts, he sings, produces, acts…he is a
Chinese Renaissance man.”

“If you say so,” Quinn said with doubt.

“I tell you what, why don’t I bring over one of
his movies tomorrow evening and you can watch it with me. If you don’t love him
by the end, I will concede defeat.”

“It’s a deal,” Quinn laughed. “I’ll even make
dinner.”

“Score! Dinner by a famous chef and I get to watch
my favorite movie.” Zach raised a fist in triumph.

They spent the next hour eating and chatting about
different books they had read and movies they both enjoyed. Quinn had to stifle
a yawn near the end of dinner. Although Zach was good company, she was
exhausted from the long week. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “It’s not you. The
restaurant has been booked all week, so I’ve been running around like crazy
trying to bake enough rolls and desserts.”

“I understand,” Zach said. “I need to get going,
anyway. I promised my buddy, Jeff, I’d meet him for drinks at the Dirty Dawg.
He has some girl he wants me to meet. He’s as bad as my sisters trying to set
me up. Actually, it’s his wife, Cindy, not Jeff. She seems to think that I
can’t take care of myself and I need a woman in my life.”

“Well, you clearly need someone to cook for you,”
Quinn joked. She felt a slight twinge of jealousy at the thought of Zach
sitting in a bar drinking cocktails with an attractive woman.

“I have the fastest speed dials for takeout in the
city. Plus, I tip well, so I will never go hungry.” Zach responded. “I’ll see
you tomorrow. Six o’clock good?”

“Perfect.”

Zach stood up, washed his plate off and placed it
in the drainer. Quinn followed him to the door and said her goodnights. Zach
lingered for a moment in the doorway like he wanted to say something, but then
with a nod at Quinn, he went down the stairs to his apartment.

Quinn plopped back down on her couch. She was full
from dinner and content from the good conversation with Zach. He really was a
nice guy. Thoughtful, too, unlike most of the guys she dated in the past. Not
self-absorbed at all. Perhaps she would rethink her self-imposed moratorium on
dating artists and musicians. But then she thought about how she had cried
herself to sleep at night when her last boyfriend had repeatedly cancelled
dates, borrowed money, then would come back with sweet words and promises that
he would change. “Nope, Fat Panther. Nice guy or not, he is off the menu.”

Chapter Fourteen

Sean Carlos and Indie showed up the next morning
to drag Quinn out to brunch.

“I cannot believe you took her speed dating,” Sean
complained. “That is so early two thousand. The hot new thing is to exerdate.”

“What in the world is exerdating?” Indie asked.

“You meet a guy and go on a date to a gym and
workout together.”

“Why in the world would I ever in a million years
do that?” Quinn asked incredulously. “I mean, I am just so freaking attractive
while I’m sweaty and trying to do lunges and squats. No guy wants that. Ever.”

“You don’t have to lift weights. You can go to a
spin class, yoga, anything,” Sean explained.

“I’m not downward facing dog with any guy on a
first date,” Indie said. “I’m saving that for marriage.”

“That’s funny!” Quinn snorted. “I might have gotten
a date without any help from you two chuckleheads.”

“Spill,” Sean commanded.

“I ran into a guy I went to college with named
Doug Martin. Nice guy. He’s a middle school teacher now and is pretty cute.
Anyway, he asked for my number, so I actually may have a date in the works with
a decent guy.”

“The realtor was a decent guy. He had weird
proclivities in the bedroom, sure, but that was his only drawback,” Indie
protested.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not calling my boyfriend “Sir”
and asking if I may please have another. Not happening,” Quinn said
emphatically.

“I am with you one hundred percent on this one,
Quinn,” Sean said.

“Are you ready to order?” Their waitress stood
poised waiting for them to order.

“Coffee all around and for me, I’d like the sweet
potato pancakes with maple syrup and butter,” Quinn said. She closed her menu
and handed it to the girl whose nametag said Angie.

“Sweet potato pancakes are just wrong on so many
levels,” Sean gagged. “What’s wrong with good old American pancakes?”

“Says the Mexican crossdresser who pretends to be
American,” Indie laughed. “Leave Quinn alone. She has the palate of a food
artist.”

“Don’t say artist,” Quinn groaned. “A cute guy
moves in and he has to be an artist. Why couldn’t he be a banker or a doctor?”

“I like Zach,” Sean said. “He’s cute. He’s polite
to my
abuela
and he has good taste in clothes. If I was a single man,
I’d be all over that like butter on pancakes.”

“Give the waitress your order, Sean,” Quinn said.
“Sorry. My friends seem to think my love life is in need of fixing and can’t
focus on anything else.”

“It’s okay,” Angie said. “I see and hear all sorts
of weird things here. You should see the drama that happens on the graveyard
shift. Nothing uglier than two people coming from a club after too much to
drink and slobbering all over each other in a corner booth.” She shivered in
mock disgust.

“Great.” Indie looked around with a leery gaze.
She grabbed a napkin from the dispenser on the table and discreetly wiped the
seat next to her.

“Don’t worry,” Angie said, “we wipe the booths
down before we start the morning shift.”

“Good to know,” Quinn said.

“I’ll take two eggs over easy, a rasher of bacon
and rye toast. Oh, and a bowl of fruit,” Indie ordered.

“Where do you put it all?” Sean asked. “I’ll take
oatmeal. I’m watching my girlish figure.” He slid his hands down his slim
sides.

“That all?” Angie asked. When they all said yes,
she left to go turn in their order.

“Indie, you slay me. I can’t even eat a peanut
without gaining weight. It’s a good thing I walk everywhere or I’d weigh five
hundred pounds,” Quinn said.

“So how’s the pastry business?” Sean asked Quinn.
He took a sip of the coffee Angie sat in front of him. He winced then grabbed
the sugar container and proceeded to dump a half a cup of sugar into it.
Satisfied, he took another sip, nodded and smiled. “Now that’s a good cup of
coffee.”

“It’s a miracle you don’t go into sugar shock,”
Indie commented.

“Darling, I’m just a walking, talking box of
sugary sweetness. Nothing’s gonna hurt this delicious diva.”

“Good grief,” Quinn groaned. “I really like
working at the restaurant. As a matter of fact, Uncle Patrick offered to pay
for me to go to culinary school as long as I agreed to come back to work for
him afterwards.”

“You should do it,” Sean said.

“Definitely,” Indie agreed. “You’re the best baker
of breads and cakes I’ve ever met. It’s a good thing I have a fast metabolism,
otherwise I’d be the one weighing five hundred pounds from eating your
pastries.”

“Mom would be livid if I chucked journalism and
went to work in a restaurant permanently.”

“That alone should make you want to do it,” Sean
chuckled. “Girl, you’ve got to live your life to please yourself. You are
twenty-six years old and look for your mama’s approval like a ten-year old.
It’s not healthy.”

“They spent a lot of money on my education. I
don’t want to disappoint them, either.”

“Quinn, they are your parents. Even if you
disappoint them, they are still going to love you,” Indie said in a quiet
voice. “You need to give your parents a little more credit.”

“I know they’ll still love me. I don’t want to
hear for the billionth time how my mother worked her way through college as a
waitress and sacrificed so that she could give me a better life. Personally, I
think life with Grandma Rose was pretty awesome.”

“Well, I’m behind you one hundred percent if you
decide to go back to school,” Sean declared.

“Thanks. Change of subject. I think Quinn’s Life
under the Microscope needs a break, so I want to know what’s going on with you
two. Sean, any new guy on the horizon?”

“
Moi
? Like this diva’s heart can belong to
just one man.”

Indie rolled her eyes. “Sean, you can’t keep
jumping from guy to guy. Don’t you want to settle down? Date one guy? Have a
little stability?”

“One day, sure, but I haven’t met the one. The
good guy shortage isn’t just going on in the hetero world, you know.”

“I found a nice guy,” Indie said.

“What?” Quinn and Sean both exclaimed. Quinn
leaned forward and fixed Indie with a penetrating gaze. “Spill it.”

“He’s a computer programmer and he works at an
insurance company downtown. He’s a few years older. Never been married. No
kids. Has a couple of cats, though.”

“So basically a computer geek who lives alone with
a bunch of cats. He’s a male version of you!” Sean said.

“What’s his name?” Quinn asked. “How long have you
been dating? When you say older, how old? Geriatric age or hitting thirty?”

“Whoa. What’s up with the third degree? It’s like
being around your mom.”

“Burn!” Sean cackled.

“Hey, now that was just wrong. I’m curious about
my friend’s new love interest. I do not approve or disapprove.”

“His name is Marty. He’s thirty-two and we’ve only
gone on two dates, but we have talked online every night for hours. He’s funny
and smart.”

“So when do we get to meet him?” Sean asked.

“That might be a problem,” Indie said.

“Why? Are you ashamed of us?”

“No, Sean, it’s nothing like that. He’s incredibly
shy and when he gets nervous he stutters.”

“We’ll behave. Well, I will. I can’t control She-
Ra,” Quinn jabbed a finger at Sean. “It’s normal to get nervous around new
people.”

“It’s not only new people. It’s any people. He’s
much more comfortable behind a keyboard. The things he can type…”Indie said
dreamily.

“TMI! Type dirty to me, darling,” Sean joked.

The waitress arrived with their breakfast and the three
of them were silent for a few minutes while they ate. Indie, as usual, finished
first and with a sigh of satisfaction, she leaned back and patted her belly.

“I love bacon. Bacon for breakfast. Bacon for
lunch. Bacon anytime. I do not know how in the world my parents have gone
thirty years without eating meat. It’s just wrong.”

“You used to be a vegetarian.” Quinn pointed out.

“Not by choice. They don’t serve meat on the
commune. I had to sneak meat from the other kids in high school. I couldn’t
swap lunches with anyone because nobody wanted my tofurkey sandwich on sprouted
bread. Blech!”

“That doesn’t even sound appetizing,” Quinn said.

“Quinn, I forgot to tell you I made an appointment
for you,” Sean said between bites of his breakfast.

“An appointment? For what?”

“With the healer. If you want to change your luck,
you need to remove the curse hovering over your love life.”

“You know I don’t believe in that kind of thing,”
Quinn protested.

Sean dabbed delicately at the corner of his mouth.
“You may not be a believer now, but after you meet with my person, trust me
when I say, you’ll be convinced.”

Quinn sighed, “I’ll go, but only because it will
make you happy and it will be the only way I’ll have any peace from you.”

“Like I would nag.” Sean pursed his lips and
fluttered his eyelashes at Quinn.

“Ha!” Indie scoffed. “I remember when you wanted
me to go get a Brazilian wax. You nagged me every day until I caved in. Worst
decision of my life, by the way. I’m still in therapy over the experience.”

“Hmmm…I guess some people prefer to go wild.
Anyway, we are going to see Angelica next week. She’s normally closed in the
evenings, but since she’s family she made an exception.”

“Why not. Nothing else is working for me, so I may
as well throw caution and common sense to the wind.”

“That’s the spirit!” Sean said.

Quinn shook her head. She doubted it would work,
but in for a penny in for a pound.