open my mouth to counter, but not before Quinn blurts out, “Wow, you must be … Mr. Darson?” “Dawson,” he instantly corrects, his frown twisted in a way that is the exact opposite of the smile I saw him give the cute child this morning. Well, it couldn’t last forever, I suppose. Quinn tilts her head to the side with a small grin. She knew what she was doing. “Ah, right. Dawson,” she says. “My bad.”
