Throughout the day, Quinn never complained. Not once. His feet must have been killing him, but he didn't say a word. Crissy brought him little things every hour or so – cinnamon swirl cupcakes, a fresh cup of coffee, some warm baguette with butter, and he always thanked her with a smile that lingered a moment longer than necessary. A small voice in the back of her mind wouldn't stop nagging at her with guilt. She was so sure, every time she went out to check on him, that he would be gone, that he would have vanished after having had enough of doing her work for her.

But Quinn surprised her over and over, never leaving his post at the register. So Crissy thanked him in the best way she knew how – with food. And partly she did it because she loved to see him smile at her like that....

When the day started to come to an end and only less than a handful of customers were left lingering over their coffee or pastries, Quinn poked his head into the kitchen.

"Permission to enter?" he asked.

Crissy grinned from her place in front of the stove, starting a fresh batch of blueberry filling for next week's pastries.

"Of course you can come in," she said. "Especially after the incredible work you did today."

Quinn moved into the kitchen and leaned back on the counter next to her. Crissy wiped her hands on a dish towel and turned to face him.

"So are you ready to take up the coffee shop profession?" she asked.

He thought about it for a moment. "It's definitely a different pace than the station. I think I could get used to it. But I'd have to rescue a few cats from trees every once in a while."

Crissy pulled out two plates of croissants, cheese, and meat from the refrigerator. She slid one plate across the counter to him.

"Is that an invitation to stay for dinner?" he said with a smirk.

"Absolutely." She edged her plate next to his and tore off a chunk of her croissant. For the entire day, she had made sure that Quinn had enough to eat, but she'd hardly eaten much herself, apart from the few routine taste tests she did throughout the day on batters and icings and sauces.

They ate in silence for a while until Quinn pushed his plate aside and leaned over to kiss her shoulder.

"Should probably start heading back to the station," he said, his breath warm and gentle against her skin. "Got an early morning shift tomorrow."

But he didn't stop his attention to her shoulder, his lips now moving so, so lightly up against her neck that she shivered. Crissy closed her eyes and turned her head to the side to grant him more access. He ran his hands down her sides to settle on her hips and she twisted around to face him. He ran his thumb over her chin before he cupped her face in his palm and kissed her, harder this time, until she could barely breathe. She could feel his hips pressing her back against the counter, the bulk of his body warm and firm and comforting.

Then Quinn slid just his thumbs under the hem of her t-shirt, skimming along her skin, and Crissy's breath hitched in her throat. She caught his wrists, digging her fingertips in a little harder than she had intended. Quinn pulled back to look at her, his eyes clouded with concern.

"Crissy?" he said. "What's wrong?"

"I..." She stopped, swallowed. Her heart was thundering so hard and so fast and she couldn't really think straight despite the blur of sudden panic that such a simple touch had brought up.

What was she doing? She had barely known this man for a few weeks – she hardly knew him at all really – and she was letting things go this far already? The last time she'd let a man touch her like this was Rob and he had said horrible, horrible things. Words that still echoed in her ears at night when everything was quiet and the shop and the customers and the baking were no longer a distraction. Words that still burned after three years. What if Quinn looked at her the way Rob had? With disgust? What if he made a comment like her mother did, about going on a diet? What if...what if she let him in and he hurt her too?

Crissy tried again. "I think...I think we need to slow down a bit."

For a moment – one long, dread-filled moment – Quinn was silent, hesitant. And it only made Crissy's heart speed up even faster to a galloping pace that made her throat go dry and her hands start to shake.

At last, Quinn spoke. "I didn't mean to..." His hands fell away from her and Crissy bit back a sob at the cool air that chilled her skin where he had been so warm before.

"I just need a little more time, Quinn," Crissy said, reaching out for him again. "This is all still new..."

"I get it," Quinn said with a nod and a small smile. "You need space. You're right, we've been rushing things a bit lately and I'll...I'll leave you to it then."

He seemed to flicker where he stood – his body leaning towards her, his hands twitching out to her – but his shoulders pulled back towards the door at the same time, like he couldn't decide which way he should go so his body was trying to move in two directions at once. Then he took a large step back and it was as if a spell had snapped like a delicate, fragile piece of string.

Something was off. Quinn was being all polite, good manners as usual, but there was something in his eyes, something Crissy couldn't quite put her finger on. She wanted to hold him there, get him to talk to her, tell him all her worries that this was nothing more than a fleeting fantasy that would shatter and she'd wake up with a broken heart. Again.

But before Crissy could get a word out, Quinn was gone. The little bell over the door barely made a peep as he left. And Crissy was still standing in the kitchen, alone, feeling as if something had just gone horribly wrong and she didn't know what it was or how it had happened.

Crissy placed one trembling hand on the counter to brace herself as she sucked in a small breath.

"I'm sorry, Quinn," she whispered into the roaring silence. "I just need time. Please."