Nell let out a long, deep breath and imagined herself relaxing in a warm bath. A bath of deciding to never again fool around with dating. Of avoiding romantic entanglements. Of leaving men to read their books and judge her from behind the host counter.

It was nice.

She pulled her phone out and sent a text to one of her sisters and then her two brothers. It was about their mother’s birthday coming up soon. The big sixty. And, since they did every party big, that meant an entire weekend celebrating for this one.

Nell hadn’t told anyone, minus the restaurant patrons and staff, about her split with Greg, and she wasn’t about to use their mother’s birthday as a springboard into the topic. Especially since two of her four siblings had been strongly against Greg since they met him at her college graduation.

So she texted ideas of drinks to make and games to play and asked if they could get one of those pin-the-tail-on-a-hot-dude posters sold for bachelorette parties until the coffee came. Nell watched as Quinn drank his black and hot while never once looking up from his book. She drank hers, heavily sugared, and tried to pretend her curiosity about the man wasn’t going through the damn roof.

As he got a refill from the waitress, once again not looking away from his book as he accepted it and started to drink, Nell finally caved.

“All right, I have to know why you aren’t digging this love-filled holiday, either.”

Gray eyes traveled up from the print to hers. He was smirking.

She kept on. “I mean, you’re clearly very attractive—I’m not saying that to hit on you, it’s just like a detail that I assure you everyone else in here has already clocked—and, unless you have a dark side, you seem to be a nice guy. So what’s up? Why are you here on Valentine’s Day splitting what will likely be a mediocre Sweethearts Special with possible added spit with a stranger and not a date? There has to be a story there.”

Quinn’s smirk didn’t change an inch. He’d been asked a similar question in the past, she was sure. Just maybe not so location specific.

“I don’t know about all that, but—” He motioned to the front window. Nell turned to see a U-Haul parked in the rain out in the lot. “I’m in the middle of a move and didn’t want to drive in the rain. So that’s the here part of the story.”

Nell met his eye with a raised brow.

“So you’re not single, you’re just in transit.”

“I am single, just also in transit.”

Her eyes narrowed. She was being too nosy.

She pressed on.

“And you don’t like Valentine’s Day because you’re single.”