Maybe it was time to think about romance.
Kate’s eyes gleamed. “We are on the case.”
Dean groaned. “No. No. You are not going to find me a guy, okay?”
“Don’t you trust our judgment?” Suze demanded.
Dean merely snorted. “Just leave it up to fate, all right?” He was a firm believer in fate. If there was someone out there who was perfect for him, then nothing would keep them apart. And in the meantime, the skiing season was getting underway, so while he was waiting for Mr. Perfect, Dean wouldn’t be lonely.
Whoever he is, he doesn’t live here. Dean figured he’d met every available guy in the village. He was betting money on a stranger moving into town. As to what this fictional stranger looked like, Dean wasn’t picky.
Though whoever was out there had better like cats, because Dean’s buddy at the animal shelter had called to say he’d found another kitty that was perfect for Dean.
Oh God, I really am turning into a crazy cat lady.
What were the chances of Santa getting off his fat ass and sending a cute, sexy, cat-loving guy Dean’s way? Someone else who wanted a little romance in his life? Someone who wouldn’t turn up his nose at the idea of a night on Dean’s couch, cuddled up together while they watched a movie?
Practically non-existent.
Christmas was almost upon them, but he was too long in the tooth to believe in miracles.
Chapter Three
Robin put down his sandpaper at the sound of his dad’s voice. If Dad needed Robin, he’d holler. After a moment, Robin resumed his rubdown of the wood, removing its rough edges until it was smooth as glass. From what he could glean, Dad had a customer, but as soon as he heard the other participant, Robin stilled. I know that voice. He strained to listen, trying to place it. When the door opened Robin quickly went back to his task.
“Well, come on through and take a look.”
Robin glanced up with interest, and then froze when in walked Mr. Quentin, the art and drama teacher from his high school. The very cool and sexy as fuck Mr. Quentin. It was a weird feeling seeing him out of his usual environment. Now that he thought about it, Robin hadn’t laid eyes on Mr. Quentin since graduation in June.
Mr. Quentin’s eyes lit up. “Well, if it isn’t my best ever set-builder.”
Robin knew he was flushed. Tingling swept up the back of his neck and across his face.
Dad gazed at Mr. Quentin in puzzlement for a moment, then widened his eyes. “Of course. You teach at the high school. Was Robin one of your students? I can’t remember.”
“No, he wasn’t, but I did a production of Dracula last year, and Robin helped build this really spooky set. It was amazing.” Mr. Quentin inclined his head toward Robin. “Your son is very talented.”
“We think so too.” Dad’s eyes lit up. “So you’re the one to blame for all the time he spent after school.”
Mr. Quentin held up his hands. “Hey, he volunteered.”
Dad chuckled. “I’m kidding. And it was a fantastic production. I remember when I was in high school. I was in a musical, and I know how much work goes into pulling it all together.”
Robin gaped. “You sing? I didn’t know that.”
Dad coughed. “The less said about my singing skills, the better. I was there to make up the numbers, I think.”
“I did teach Ryan though,” Mr. Quentin added. “He took drama with me.”
Dad bit his lip. “I’ll bet that was a very interesting class.” The phone rang in the outer office, and he raised his eyes heavenward. “Damn, I need to get that. I’m so sorry, but I’m been expecting a call, and we’re finishing shortly for the day.”
“It’s okay, Dad,” Robin interjected. “I’ll take care of Mr. Quentin.”
Dad gave him a grateful smile, then patted Mr. Quentin on the arm. “I’m sure Robin can answer any of your questions.” He dashed through the door, closing it behind him.
Leaving Robin alone with Mr. Quentin.
Robin swallowed. Somehow, he didn’t think ‘God, you look good’ was the correct way to begin a conversation. As it was, Mr. Quentin was gazing at his surroundings with obvious interest. Robin took advantage of the fact to take a good look at him.
His eyes are stunning. They were a clear green, morphing into amber near the pupils. The dark beard that hugged most of his lower face was all kinds of sexy, as was the way his hair was longer on top, slightly curly in comparison to the shorn sides of his head. He had neat dark brows…
…that arched up toward his hairline as he gazed at Robin, displaying a wide grin.
Fuck. He caught me staring.
“So…” Robin coughed. “Good to see you again, Mr. Quentin. I didn’t know you canoed.” Let’s start talking so I can forget I was ogling you and got busted.
Mr. Quentin smiled. “And I didn’t know you worked with your dad. Is this a recent thing?”
Robin nodded. “Since graduation.”
“That figures.” He glanced at the gunwale Robin was working on. “You always were good with your hands.”
Robin’s tongue had apparently decided to tie itself into a knot, and he was sure his face was bright red. It was like being back in high school, when Mr. Quentin used to wander onto the set while Robin was working on it, and Robin never had a clue what to say. “So… canoeing… Are you into any other sports?”
Sports? For God’s sake… He must have sounded like a total loser.
Mr. Quentin gave no sign he thought the question idiotic. “Oh yes. I love snowboarding, ice skating, and skiing. In fact, I’m a qualified ski instructor.”
“That’s cool.” He cleared his throat. “So…”
Mr. Quentin laughed. “If Miss Martindale could hear you now, she’d have a fit.” His dark eyes twinkled. “Didn’t you get a lecture in your English classes on the evils of starting a sentence with the word so?”
Robin blinked. “How did you know about that?” It had been almost a weekly occurrence. He didn’t recall seeing Mr. Quentin at the back of his English class. He would definitely have noticed that.
“She’s a friend of mine.” Mr. Quentin leaned forward almost conspiratorially. “To be honest? I get the same lecture.”
Okay, that was cute. “You’re here to order a canoe?” God, could I sound any more like an idiot? What else would he be here for—to buy a car?
Mr. Quentin nodded, straightening. “I’m setting myself a challenge for next year. I’m going to take part in the Adirondack Canoe Classic.”
Robin widened his eyes. “Okay, I am seriously impressed. That’s ninety miles, isn’t it?” It was a dream of his, only Dad wouldn’t hear of it. Robin was tired of hearing the old refrain of ‘Wait a few years.’
Waiting was boring as fuck.
“Yup, over three days. My old Royalex canoe is nearing retirement, so I decided it was time to buy a new one.” He folded his arms and stared at Robin, his eyes twinkling. “What would be your recommendation?”
“A RapidFire,” Robin responded without hesitation.
Mr. Quentin arched his eyebrows. “That was fast. Now tell me why.”