by G. K. Brady
Despite his fidgets, he gave her a swift, emphatic reply that calmed her a fraction. “Hell no. That was a mistake I wish I could do over.”
“What would you do if you could?”
“Run the other way.”
“Is everyone here?”
A chorus of feminine yeses sounded through Sarah’s laptop as she relaxed against her pillow-packed headboard and fisted a bourbon and Coke. After last night’s epically embarrassing conversation with Quinn, she was stoked for her first ever virtual Girls’ Night Out. Lily, Natalie, Paige, and Paige’s assistant, Katie, raised their adult beverages in a toast, and Sarah joined them.
“Here’s to Paige’s Pussycats,” Natalie chortled.
“I can’t drink to that,” Paige scoffed.
“Just drink, Paige. It’ll get better. I promise,” Katie urged.
Sarah was already on the verge of laughter.
“How about Paige’s Pixies?” Lily suggested, but she was shot down immediately.
“No,” declared Katie. “That’s Beckett’s exclusive moniker for his wife.”
“Why do we have to be Paige’s anything?” Paige protested. “Couldn’t we be the A-Team?”
“The P-Team!” someone shouted, and they all had another drink.
Then the names started to fly, accompanied, of course, by more toasting and drinking. No surprise, the names got sillier by the turn.
“Paige’s Pants!”
“Paige’s Peaches!”
“Paige’s Page-turners!”
“What the hell’s a page-turner?”
“Who cares? It’s a suggestion, so we drink!”
From there, the conversation segued to what the women were doing during quarantine—working, naturally—what their husbands or boyfriends were doing during quarantine—getting in the way, coaxing the women into the bedroom more than usual, naturally—and how happy they’d be when the men got out of the house—naturally.
Sarah listened to their hilarious stories, an outsider, though not on the outside.
Finally, Lily said, “How’s life with Quinn Charming, Sarah?”
“Different than I expected, especially after I got sick.”
“How so?”
“He’s a regular mother hen, clucking over me.” After Lily’s loud laugh, Sarah added, “I know, right?”
“Sarah,” Katie interjected, “you should totally do Quinn.”
Sarah spluttered. “Why?”
Katie raised her glass and batted her lashes. “Because he’s hot, that’s why. Can you imagine tugging on that hair like a set of reins while you’re riding him?”
“Katie!” the other women sang in a chorus.
“You’ve got a boyfriend,” Lily reminded her.
“What? I don’t actually want Quinn. But Sarah could tell us what all the fuss is about.”
“There’s fuss?” Sarah was suddenly uncomfortable, reminded—again—how Quinn attracted women like sharks to blood. Moreover, why did this bother her?
Katie’s eyebrows bounced. “There’s always fuss over a guy like him.”
“You mean a player who’s fucked half the women in the northern hemisphere?” Sarah scoffed.
“He’s not that bad,” Lily chimed in. “Is he?”
“Puck bunnies on speed dial.” Then Sarah told them about the call she’d taken on Quinn’s special phone.
“But Quinn’s so nice,” Lily protested.
“Which is why he’s fucked half the women in the northern hemisphere!” Natalie declared triumphantly.
A knock sounded on Sarah’s door, and the women all went silent. “Uh, hello?” Sarah said to the door.
“You decent?” came Quinn’s voice. Over her laptop’s speakers, the women could be heard laughing.
Oh shit! Did he hear that? A twinge of guilt bit her. “Um, yeah, but I’m kinda in a virtual meeting here.”
He cracked the door and stuck his hand through—a hand holding a fresh bourbon and Coke. “Thought you could use a refill for your meeting. If you want to hand me your empty—”
“How did you know?”
“ESP.”
Sarah traded out the drinks, and the door snicked shut. When she returned to her laptop, everyone else had fresh drinks too.
“Oh shit,” said Natalie. “You know what this means, right?”
Paige nodded solemnly. “Yep. The menfolk are conspiring.”
Sarah was confused. “Conspiring?”
“They’re talking to each other,” Natalie said. “Which means they’re working like a team with the ultimate goal of getting that winning score.”
“Which is?” Sarah felt like she was one step behind.
“They want to score tonight,” Lily offered helpfully.
When Sarah didn’t respond, Natalie added, “Score off the ice. Like, they’re looking to light the lamp? Taking aim in hopes of putting the biscuit in the basket? Using their hard sticks to—”
“Got it!” Sarah interrupted. “I don’t need any more metaphors to understand the gist of … being in the crease.”
They fell over howling. When they recovered, Paige was still giggling. “I’m afraid. Very afraid.”
The party paused. “Why?” Lily asked.
“Are you kidding? I’m Fertile Myrtle, and Beck’s got superpowered swimmers. All I want is some good, old-fashioned, down-and-dirty sex without what comes nine months later!”
A man’s voice boomed in the background. “I heard that! Ready whenever you are, pixie.”
“Omigod, now they’re eavesdropping!” Katie yelped. Sarah cringed. They all burst into a fresh round of laughter.
“Okay. Okay,” Natalie dropped her voice between her snort-giggles. “We still have to get poor Sarah hooked up.”
Sarah mocked in a haughty tone, “‘Poor Sarah is just fine, thank you very much.”
“No taking Quinn for a spin?” Katie asked.
Sarah sputtered. “Definitely not! Don’t get me wrong. He’s nice to look at, but he knows it. Not interested in that type.”
“Hmm. What would you say to a different dark-haired, dark-eyed guy? One who’s a little more mature and loves dogs?” Natalie suggested.
“Oh, I know who you’re talking about. Your brother, right?” This from Lily. “He’s a cutie.”
Sarah feigned indifference. Not that she was interested in the brother. Just the opposite, and she didn’t want to offend her newfound friends.
“Yep.” Natalie took a slug of a red cocktail.
Lily picked up the slack. “Tall, lean, dark brown hair, big brown eyes, and funny. He’s kinda like Quinn, only Drew doesn’t know he’s good-looking.”
“What do you say, Sarah?” Natalie poked.
“I’ll think about it.” She wouldn’t, of course, and hopefully the idea would just fade away.
The party progressed for another hour until the women said their good-nights, leaving only Paige and Sarah.
“Thanks for including me, Paige. I had such a great time tonight.”
“I’m so happy you joined in. You’re a great addition to the group.” Paige paused. “While I’ve got you, I wanted to ask if I could send over some blueprints for a project I’m thinking of, and since we can’t get together in person—”
“Yes! Please!”
Paige chuckled. “Okay. I’m glad you’re on board.”
“Well, you know what it’s like, being cooped up twenty-four-seven with—”
“Oh yes. And I also know the ‘type’ you’re cooped up with. Intimately.”
What had Sarah missed? “I’m not sure I follow.”
“Beck was a total player. I tell people he changed girlfriends as often as he changed socks, and the man changes his socks at least twice a day.”
Sarah rummaged around in her memory bank, coming up with limited images of Beckett doting on his wife and his baby daughters. “Seriously? He’s like Mr. Mom.”
Paige chuckled before heaving her eyes to the ceiling. “Yeah, well, things are different
now. He’s different. If you want a look-see at the old Beckett Miller, I’m sure you can still get an eyeful on YouTube. I just hope like heck that when our girls are old enough, the evidence is completely wiped from the planet. I don’t need them seeing footage of their half-naked dad dancing with completely naked women or getting his drunk self tossed from strip clubs.”
Sarah’s eyes popped wide. “Whoa! I had no idea.”
“Good!” Paige smiled, her dimple on full display. “Then there’s hope. Seriously, though, I didn’t want to give the man a chance. I had my own trust issues, but then I got to know him and realized what was hiding under all that bad-boy behavior.”
“How did you get past it?
Paige shrugged. “I decided to trust what was in front of me and ignore the stuff from his past. After all, people change. They grow up. I believed with all my heart that he was—we were—worth taking a chance on. And I haven’t looked back. No regrets.” She tilted her head, her expression taking on a dreamy quality. “He’s incredible. He’s … Let’s just say I’m so glad I looked beyond the hype and saw the man. I can’t imagine life without him.”
Paige’s voice cracked on the last words, and Sarah felt a tug on her heartstrings.
When she hung up, her mind was a rolling cement drum, churning a slurry of thoughts … and they weren’t about the blueprints she’d been excited about.
Chapter 22
I’m Not with Stupid
One morning a week later, after Sarah had worked out in the gym with Quinn’s mom and helped her into the hot tub, she thrust a brightly wrapped package at him. “I got you something.”
His breath stuttered for an instant as surprise rocketed through his veins. A gooey feeling followed, settling in his chest as soft and sticky as warmed toffee. “Like, a present? What is it?” He pointed. “Is it going to explode?”
“Guess you’d better open it and find out.” A devilish gleam brightened her hazel eyes, making things in his southern hemisphere perk up like they seemed to whenever he was within eighty feet of her.
He gave her a devilish look of his own and inspected the flat box. It was neatly wrapped with a shiny blue bow. He shook the package next to his ear. “Is it sexy lingerie you’re going to model for me?”
She cinched her arms over her chest. “In your dreams, Sparky.”
Yeah, that scenario’s definitely in my dreams.
Presents weren’t something he was used to getting, and he hated to destroy such a pretty one. “Did you wrap this?”
She nodded.
“Wow. Another talent I didn’t know you had. Wonder what else you can do?” He scanned the package, trying to find the easiest, least destructive way in.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, I would.” He was rewarded with the eye-roll he was after, accompanied by a loud snort. Were they doing this? Were they flirting? His hopes found a toehold somewhere above his head and climbed.
Gingerly, he unstuck the tape and was carefully peeling back the paper when she snatched at the gift. “Jeez, you’re slow!”
He yanked it from her grabby fingers. “Hey, hey, hey! This is my present.”
“Then open the da—darn thing!” She rolled her eyes—again. God, she did that a lot, but he had to admit he got a wicked kick out of pushing her buttons, especially when she rewarded him with a quirk of her pretty lips as she was doing now. Yeah, she thought it was funny too.
Slowly, deliberately, he opened the box and pulled out its tissue-wrapped contents. Nestled in the folds was a T-shirt, which he pulled out and held up. On its front were emblazoned the words, “Sorry, Girls, I Only Date Models.”
“Uh … thanks?”
A shit-eating grin split her face. “It’s a good one, huh?”
“You do realize this is for guys who actually don’t date models?” Too late, he realized how arrogant and ridiculous he sounded.
She swung her gaze toward the patio door. “Good. Your mom won’t hear this.” Her gaze swung back to him. “Oh. My. Fucking. God! You are so damn full of yourself!”
Can’t disagree there, but I do date models. Did date models. Wait. Why am I not dating models anymore? COVID-19. But is that the only reason? He stared at her. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Easy. Say, ‘Thank you, Sarah. You’re such a thoughtful person.’” She batted her eyelashes.
“Uh, thank you, Sarah. You’re such a thoughtful person.” He ran his eyes over her face. No malice. No evil lurking in her unmatched, mossy-green eyes. Just something like happiness dancing in them. Because she’d given him a present?
She was proud of this gift, and he was being an asshole. He should be telling her how much he appreciated the trouble she’d gone to, even if he wasn’t psyched about the gift itself.
“You didn’t have to do this, Sunshine.” He wrapped the T-shirt back up in the tissue and crammed it in the box.
Her face fell, disappointment etching her strangely delicate features. Strange because he hadn’t thought them delicate when he’d first met her. Had she always had that soft curve at the base of her neck? The perfectly shaped eyebrows that accentuated her big eyes? Smooth skin that reminded him of fresh cream?
The next words that came out of her mouth nearly undid him. “It was just my way of saying thanks for everything you’ve done. But you don’t like it, do you?”
Smoothing the hair at his nape, he said, “No, I love it. I can’t believe you did this for me. It’s just that …”
“Oh. Is it too small? I got you an extra-large tall.”
He tore his gaze from her. “No, I’m sure it’ll fit. I was just thinking it’d be nice if we could change the word ‘Models.’”
“To what? Porn stars?” she snickered.
He shook his head and looked her straight in the eye. “I was thinking ‘Engineers.’”
“Oh.” Hyperspeed calculations seemed to take place behind her eyes. “Oh!”
For such a badass, she was letting her emotions play all over her face. Maybe because her walls were made of papier mâché—a flimsy facade to disguise the fact that what she hid behind them was, in fact, pretty soft and vulnerable. Right now he could see right through her, though it didn’t help him understand what he was seeing. Was she pleased by what he’d just revealed? Terrified? Disgusted?
Her eyes shuttered. “There’s something I should tell you.” She gusted out a breath. “I’m … I have a date tonight.”
WTF? “Excuse me?”
“I have a date.”
She’s kidding, right? “You said that. When?”
“I said that too. Tonight.”
“With who?” he snapped.
“Whom.”
“Damn it! With whom?” His insides were curling in on themselves, his world spinning off-axis.
“You sound like my brother, you know that?”
“I don’t care who—whom—I sound like. How the hell can you go on a date? Wait. Time-out. Tell me you’re going to get dressed up, sit in your room, and do a virtual date on your computer. That’s it, right?” That still sucks.
She shook her head. “No. I’m out of quarantine now—it’s been over two weeks since I got sick. In fact, you can be out too, I think, so if you wanted to date some of your models …”
Why did it bother the shit out of him that she was okay with him dating anyone? Shaken to the core, nothing made sense to him right now, and he didn’t have the time or temperance to unravel it. Eyes closed, he shook his head. “Wait, wait, wait. Hold up a minute. Where are you gonna go? No restaurants are open.”
“Um, he’s cooking dinner. Or ordering takeout. I’m not sure which.”
His eyes flew open and fixed on hers. “You’re not kidding, are you?”
She seemed to size him up warily. Slowly, she shook her head.
He cinched his arms across his chest and tried to puff it up a few sizes. “Who is this guy? How did you meet him?” he blurted, unable to stop himself. Holy crap,
was he really going there? Yeah, because he had first dibs. She was his.
Goddamn.
When had he started thinking of her as his? And was this ownership of the she’s-my-sister variety? Or was it of the caveman she’s-my-woman variety? While he didn’t know that he had a right to the first scenario, he sure as hell didn’t have a right to the second one, and the buzzing in his brain wouldn’t help him sort it out anytime soon. This was brand new territory for him, and he didn’t like being here. He wanted back on familiar ground where he didn’t give a shit what a woman he was lusting after did in her spare time. He vaguely registered that when it came to Sarah, though, this whatever-it-was went way beyond lust.
Sarah casually brushed at her sleeve. “I met him online.”
Now the buzzing in Quinn’s head erupted, shooting his blood pressure into the stratosphere. Control slipped from his grasp. “What? Don’t tell me you used a dating app!”
Amused eyes pierced his. Clearly she was enjoying herself. “Okay. I won’t tell you I used a dating app.”
Fucking fuck!
He mustered his best authoritative voice. “Sarah. This is not a good idea.”
In a move that totally flustered him, she patted his cheek. “Don’t worry, Sparky. He’s Natalie’s brother, Drew, and it’s a blind double date. Well, my part—and his too, I suppose—is blind, but not the double date part. Natalie and T.J. will be there.” She beamed at him, looking entirely too pleased with herself.
This just got better and better. Goddamn Shanstrom was still pissed about the press conference, wasn’t he? And this was his jacked-up way of getting even.
Quinn narrowed his eyes. “I thought you said you met him online?”
“I did. Natalie introduced us, we had a FaceTime session, and I decided, what the hell? Voila! Blind double date.” When he didn’t respond, she smirked. “Voila is French for ‘ta-dah!’”
As he watched her sashay away, it occurred to him that she’d been right. He’d been totally full of himself, deluded by the ease with which he’d picked up random women in bars for far too long. Because when it came to this particular woman, not only did “pick up” sound far too crass, but he had absolutely no clue how to move the puck to the goal line.