There were three firefighters at Crissy's door the next morning – Quinn, Pete, and a third man she didn't recognize, with a shock of dark hair and ice blue eyes. Quinn shook the snow from his coat and stomped his feet before stepping inside when she opened the door for them. He tugged his scarf free and smiled at her, so familiar and warm and comfortable that Crissy couldn't help but smile back.

"Good morning," he said, his voice low for only her to hear. He hooked an arm around her waist and ducked his head to press a chilled kiss to her lips.

Pete sighed noisily behind them. Quinn broke away, his gaze roaming over Crissy's face for a moment before he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Got something to say, Pete?" he asked without looking away from Crissy.

"Sure do, buddy," Pete replied. "People eat here. You're being unsanitary."

Quinn rolled his eyes. Crissy stifled a laugh in his coat lapel. He brushed his thumb over her chin – a habit she was quickly getting used to – before he turned around.

"Crissy, this is one of my coworkers, Stephen Almeida. Stephen, this is Crissy."

Stephen nodded and shook her hand. "You've become a bit of a legend at the station after the Valentine's Day party."

A warm blush crept up her neck and into her cheeks at the attention. Quinn covered for her.

"I told him there would be food as payment," he said. "He's been hanging around Pete so long, he couldn't let that opportunity pass him by. All right, boys, let's get that stove off the truck already."

He brushed a brief kiss to the top of Crissy's head before he slipped out the door. Amy came bounding down the stairs from Crissy's room, pulling her long dark hair into a ponytail.

"Your bathroom is always so much more organized than mine," she said as she came up alongside Crissy. "The ponytail bands were so neat and tidy in the drawer, I found them right away which never happens in my apartment. I should pay you to clean up my bathroom. Not that it would stay that way for more than five minutes."

"I've seen your bathroom," Crissy said, watching Quinn, Pete, and Stephen wrestle the stove off the back of the truck. "You couldn't pay me enough. And I know your salary too. It'll only get thinner the more kids you have."

"Pleasant thought." Amy edged closer to Crissy to peer over her shoulder out the door as well. "Oooh. Now there's a nice view to get the day started."

Crissy swatted at Amy's arm. "Shush. I've already blushed once. I don't need any more of that, thank you."

"It only makes you cuter, lil' peach."

"Coffee. Now."

"Yes, boss."

Amy busied herself behind the counter as she got the coffee started. Crissy pulled the door open as Quinn, Pete, and Stephen hauled the stove inside, around the counter, and into the kitchen. Crissy waited at the threshold of the kitchen, doing her best to be available if help was needed while at the same time, staying out of the way.

Quinn stripped off his coat and began to set it on the counter but Crissy took it from him instead. He caught her hand and gave her fingers a grateful squeeze before Crissy accepted Pete's and Stephen's coats as well.

"Stephen," Quinn said, returning to the work. "You're in charge of the electricity. Breaker panel's in that cabinet."

Crissy stepped back to watch. Pete fished a few penlights from his back pocket and handed them out. Right before Stephen cut the power, Quinn swore under his breath.

"What is it?" Pete asked.

"Left my tools in the damn truck."

Quinn strode out of the kitchen. As soon as he was out of sight, Crissy heard a surprised gasp and Amy apologizing profusely. Crissy leaned out of the kitchen to see the front of Quinn's t-shirt dripping wet with coffee. Amy was wiping at Quinn's shirt with a handful of paper towels.

"I am so, so sorry," she said, dabbing at his chest.

"It's okay," he said. "No harm done."

"I'll go get it dry. It's the least I can do."

"That's really not necessary."

"You can't go out there wearing wet clothes. You'll freeze. Take it off. I won't be longer than a few minutes anyway."

Quinn hesitated and almost looked ready to argue the point further, but then he seemed to decide against it and peeled his t-shirt off.

Crissy's face flamed. For a split second, she stared. She'd seen him in t-shirts before, clingy t-shirts that left very little to the imagination, but now there was skin where fabric had been.

Then she felt her stomach tightening, her heartbeat racing against her rib cage, and her gaze darted down to her hands.

And Pete and Stephen were doing a terrible job of hiding their snickering.

"Pete," Quinn called.

Pete poked his head out and without missing a beat, said, "I always knew deep down you wanted to be a Chippendale, Q."

Amy choked and took off up the stairs to Crissy's room. Quinn narrowed his eyes at Pete and he glowered.

"Would you be kind enough to get my tools?" he said.

Pete screwed one eye up in thought. "But it's cold out there and..."

Quinn raised his eyebrows. Pete skirted past him and out the door. It took Pete thirty seconds to retrieve the tools, the longest thirty seconds of Crissy's life as she tried her best to not stare at Quinn, to ignore the way her entire body was practically vibrating from the fact that his impossibly smooth, warm skin was within touching distance.

Pete returned and handed the tools off to Quinn. He squeezed past her into the kitchen again and set to work on the stove, his bare back facing her. Amy crept down the stairs, without Quinn's shirt, Crissy noticed, and peered into the kitchen.

"Feast your eyes, my friend," she whispered. "You totally owe me."

Crissy hiccuped. "You spilled that coffee on purpose?!"

"Well...yeah. Duh. You have known me all your life, sugar."

"Oh my god, Amy, I'm going to kill you," Crissy hissed.

Amy darted back up the stairs, laughing, before Crissy could carry out her threat.

It took an hour for Quinn, Pete, and Stephen to get her stove up and running. And during all that time, Amy managed to draw out drying Quinn's shirt in front of a battery operated space heater, allowing Crissy to take full advantage of watching him unabashed for one whole hour.

Quinn flipped the stove on, fiddled with knobs and dials, testing each burner, testing the oven. Amy returned with Quinn's shirt neatly folded, clean and dry in one hand, a tray of coffees balanced in the other hand. She pressed her shoulder into Crissy's.

"Crissy," she said, tipping her head closer while she watched Quinn work. "If you don't get your hands all over that..." She paused, looked Crissy dead in the eye. "I'm never speaking to you again. Even though I love you very dearly. So don't be stupid. And no excuses."

Crissy's mouth dropped open and she started to protest but Amy beat her to it.

"Quinn!" she said, stepping forward and holding his shirt out to him. "There might be a little staining but it's dry and warm. Again, I'm so sorry."

Quinn tugged his shirt on with relief.

"Who wants caffeine?" Amy asked.

[][][]

Crissy herded everyone out of the kitchen to make the promised payment of fresh brownies but as Quinn started to leave, she caught the tail of his shirt and pulled him back.

"You can stay," she whispered. "Don't tell Amy."

Quinn faced the counter next to her, his elbow brushing against hers. "So what can I do to help?"

She pulled out ingredients from the cabinets, setting them on the counter.

"You've already done more than enough," she replied. "Just sit there and relax."

Quinn drummed his hands on the counter, looking like he didn't quite know what to do with himself. So Crissy had pity on him. She handed him a carton of eggs and a bowl.

"I need six eggs, beaten," she said.

"Yes ma'am," he said with a smile.

He reached for the eggs but she snatched them back.

"There's an apron in that top drawer on your right," she said.

Quinn's mouth hung open slightly. "You're kidding...right?"

"Just part of working in the kitchen. Do you have something against aprons?"

"No, not at all. Just as long as Pete isn't around."

He tugged the apron out of the drawer and stared at it in his hands for a moment.

"It's very pink," he said.

Crissy bit her lip to keep from laughing as she took the apron from him and pulled it over his head.

"It's not supposed to be a fashion statement," she said. "Just keeps the food from staining your clothes."

She pulled back, looking him over. The apron was more than a little small on him, hitched up around his chest, and it really was very pink. But Quinn shrugged and held his hand out for the carton of eggs.

Crissy and Quinn fell into a surprisingly easy rhythm, sometimes not talking, sometimes jostling each other and laughing. Crissy was used to having the kitchen to herself and with Quinn's broad shoulders taking up so much room, there was even less space for her to move around. But that just gave her an excuse to nudge him and trail her fingers over his arm or his hand or bump his hip as much as she liked. And Quinn would bump back with a sideways glance out of the corner of his eye.

Crissy finished up the brownies and stuck them in the oven then handed the batter-covered spoon to Quinn.

"After all your hard work over the past two days, you certainly deserve to lick the spoon," she said.

Quinn accepted it, swiped a finger-full of batter, but before he could put it in his mouth, Crissy caught his wrist. She stepped forward until her hips were pressed against his, slipped her other hand around his waist, and sucked the batter from his finger. She smothered a smirk when Quinn's eyes widened a fraction of an inch and he swallowed hard.

"God, Crissy," he breathed. "You don't play fair."

She raised her eyebrows, feigning innocence.

"Trying to take it slow here and you do that."

"Maybe I like driving you crazy," she said. "Have to keep you on your toes."

"Oh I'm on my toes. Believe me."

He abandoned the spoon on the counter and when he turned back to her, she wiggled her way under his arm, tucked in against his chest. He trailed a finger along the length of her nose.

"You seem very...relaxed lately," he said.

"I probably should have warned you. I get weird when I'm comfortable around someone."

"I'll hold you to that. Does it by chance have anything to do with my missing tshirt earlier?"

Crissy's face flushed hot. "What?"

"You were staring," he teased.

"I was not!"

She tried to squirm away from him to occupy herself with something else. But Quinn wrapped his arms around her, holding her in place.

"Oh no you're not getting away that easily," he said. "You're a terrible liar by the way."

Crissy groaned and pressed her hands over her face. Quinn laughed and pried her hands away but she squeezed her eyes closed and wouldn't look at him.

"I have to go crawl into a hole and die now," she muttered.

"Come on, Crissy," Quinn said with a kiss to her cheek. "What happened to that little spark you had going earlier?"

"That was different."

"You make terrible excuses too."

Crissy snaked her hand out of his grasp and pinched his stomach. He sucked in a breath and his body contracted away from her.

"Ow," he said.

"I might be terrible at excuses and lying but I can pinch really hard. Keep that in mind the next time you tease me."

"But you're so cute when you blush."

Crissy made to pinch him again but Quinn caught her wrist and held her hand at bay. At that moment, the timer on the oven went off and he let her go. As Crissy reached for the oven mitt, she swiped another pinch.

"So that's how it's going to be then, is it?" Quinn asked. "You get the last word in all our arguments from now on?"

Crissy slid the brownies onto the cooling rack and grinned up at him. "You bet, mister."

[][][]

February slid away into March. There were no more sudden kitchen fires. Crissy doubled her baking productivity. And Quinn stopped in at the coffee shop nearly every day with a warm, familiar greeting and a kiss just for her.

One morning, as Crissy was juggling two fresh pans of pound cake before the breakfast rush, the bell over the door signaled a customer had arrived. Crissy burst into a wide grin, knowing full well it was Quinn. She rushed to drop the cakes on the counter, pulled her apron off and darted out of the kitchen.

Crissy pulled up short. Amy was glaring at the woman on the opposite side of the counter in stiff silence. For a heart-stopping moment, Crissy thought her mother had paid a visit. Then she realized that wasn't possible. Her mother would have fanfare. Her mother would not have waited at the counter. So if it wasn't her mother then...it had to be her sister. And she was glaring daggers back at Amy, looking wholly out of place in her designer black suit against the humble coffee shop. Her bleached blonde hair was swept up in a perfect, flawless French twist. One hand rested on the counter, her bright red manicured fingernails drumming away with impatience.

"Andrea," Crissy said, shocked. "What...are you doing here?"

Andrea turned, her blue eyes cold and annoyed. Always annoyed.

"My wedding, of course," she said. "The clock is ticking and I only have a few months to prepare for June. You obviously have to be a bridesmaid but you're too busy with your little...shop here. So I thought I'd come to you. I couldn't afford being put off with any of your excuses about being busy."

Crissy stifled a sigh and summoned up an infinite amount of patience. Amy looked about ready to pounce but Crissy caught her elbow and Amy snapped her mouth shut with a growl.

"Do you have the bridesmaids dresses all picked out?" Crissy asked.

"Minor details need to be fixed before I make my final decision. I brought samples of fabric, a portfolio of sketches I've done, among other things. But I left them in the car." She made a vague gesture towards the coffee shop. "Is there somewhere...clean...we could discuss this?"

"The shop is clean..."

"Well I can't work with this many people around. I need space."

Crissy nodded. "My room is upstairs. It's small but you won't have to deal with any crowds."

Andrea made a non-committal hum and swept out the door. Amy groaned and slumped over the counter.

"Why did you offer up your own room, sugar?" she asked.

"Because she's my sister," Crissy replied. "And this is her wedding. She's wanted this for as long as I can remember."

"But..."

Crissy cast a pleading look at her and Amy's protests deflated.

"I don't like her being here," Amy said.

"I can see that. It's written all over your face."

"She's not my sister. I don't have to be nice to her."

"Amy, please. The nicer we are to her, the faster she'll be out of our hair."

"The bitchier we are, she'll throw a bigger tantrum on the way out the door. That would be so much more fun."

"No."

Amy huffed and turned to the coffee pot, jabbing buttons. "Can't stop me from thinking whatever I want."

"No I can't. But I'm sure I'll hear all about it later when I pay you back with a massive amount of chocolate covered strawberries."

Amy pointed at her. "Don't think bribery will make this situation any better."

Before Crissy could protest, Andrea shoved the door open with her shoulder, carting two suitcases behind her and a massive cardboard box under one arm. Amy watched Andrea struggle for a moment and pointedly turned away. Crissy elbowed her on the way past to take the box from Andrea and show her upstairs.

Andrea grimaced at Crissy's tiny bedroom. "Well. It will have to do."

"While you get settled," Crissy said, "I'll just check on a few things and I'll be right back."

She hurried down the stairs and as soon as she reached the kitchen, she braced her hands against the counter with a deep breath. Amy poked her head in the kitchen door.

"Think nasty thoughts," she said. "It'll help."

Then she disappeared. Crissy sighed and shook the pound cake from their pans onto the cooling rack and slid a fresh batch in the oven.

A light knock drew her attention. Quinn stood in the doorway, his hands tucked in his pockets and he was smiling from ear to ear.

"Hey," he said. "I thought we'd head out for..."

"No, no, no," she said, attempting to herd him out of the kitchen. "You have to go."

"What?" he asked. "Why? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, Quinn, it's not you. Just trust me on this."

"Crissy, what's going on?" He faced her, concern growing in his eyes now.

"My sister is here," she said through gritted teeth. "You need to leave."

"Because you don't want your sister to see me?"

"Yes. But not the way you're thinking of."

Quinn frowned. He started to protest when the sharp click of heels on tile floor cut in.

"Cristina," Andrea said, her voice smooth and silky. "Who's this? You seem awfully familiar."

Crissy hesitated, panicking. She glanced up at Quinn and terror made her stomach flip as she saw the hurt growing in his eyes at her hesitation. There was no point in hiding Quinn from Andrea now. She knew. And she wouldn't rest until she got every last drop of information on him.

"My boyfriend," Crissy said, never taking her eyes away from Quinn.

She hated the way her voice trembled and she wished she had sounded stronger than she really felt. But the hurt in Quinn's eyes was gone. There was a hint of a smile teasing at his lips, secret and soft and quiet, just for her. And that was worth the risk of letting Andrea know something good was happening in her life, something that made her light-headed with happiness.

"He works at the fire station just down the block," Crissy continued. "Quinn, this is my sister, Andrea."

Andrea shook his hand, slowly, lightly, and smiled like a cat with a trapped mouse.

"The pleasure is mine, Quinn," she said, sidling to the other side of Quinn and trailing her hand up his arm to rest against his elbow.

A flash of uncertainty clouded Quinn's eyes and he squared his shoulders to face her while sliding his arm around Crissy's waist. But Andrea wasn't getting the hint and took a step closer.

"I hope you don't mind my saying so," she said. "But you don't look like the type to be happy in this little backwater. Denver would suit you perfectly. I could pull a few strings for you, get you a job, an apartment..."

As she talked, she circled one finger over his forearm. Quinn took her wrist and moved her hand away.

"Denver never suited me much actually," he replied. "Crissy's told me about you. A lawyer, right?"

Andrea fumbled, looking adrift without an anchor as she tried to come to grips with the fact that her advances had been brushed off so quickly. But once the attention was on her, she perked up again.

"Followed in my mother's footsteps," she said. "Mother always said I took to the business world like a natural."

"She must be proud of both of you I imagine," Quinn said.

Andrea's smile grew and she smoothed a hand down her suit. "I wouldn't want to brag..."