by G. K. Brady
Sarah smudged smoky eyeliner under her lower lashes and stood back from the bathroom mirror. “Meh,” she said to her reflection before she applied lipstick. While she wasn’t going for knock-’em-dead, it was sort of fun to get dressed up after spending months in sweats, workout togs, and T-shirts. The dress-up clothes made her feel pretty, feminine, sexy, and she’d make the most of tonight. Drew seemed like a nice guy, but the date wouldn’t go anywhere. Tonight would simply be a welcome diversion. She’d get away from Quinn Asshat Hadley, the cocky bastard. So damn full of himself.
“This T-shirt is made for guys who actually don’t date models,” she told her reflection in a snippy voice. “Well, good for you, Romeo!”
Maybe she’d picked the wrong slogan, but jeez! He didn’t have to be such a jerk about it. At least show a little appreciation. And what was with that “Let’s change ‘models’ to ‘engineers’” quip? Nothing like taking an extra dig at her.
Asshole.
After dabbing perfume behind her ears, she slipped on her skyscraper heels and wobbled to Liz’s room. Archer followed, watching her with canine concern, as if he were angling for the best spot to catch her when her ankles folded and she came tumbling down. Heels had been a regular accessory for professional garb, but lately? Flats all the way, and she was out of practice.
A muffled “Come in” sounded behind Liz’s door when Sarah knocked, and she let herself in. Liz was propped up in her bed, legs stretched out in front of her, an e-reader in her hand. She set it down, lifted her glasses onto her head, and let out a loud whistle. “Look at you! Sarah, you are smoking!”
Sarah perched on the edge of her bed, suddenly self-conscious. “Is it too much?”
“Oh no, doll. You look fantastic. You’re gonna have that guy eating out of your hand—as soon as he stops drooling.” She let out a little sigh. “And Quinn’s gonna be eating his heart out.”
“No, he’s not!” Sarah scoffed a little too loudly. Why did Liz’s words set off a little flare of heat at Sarah’s core that rushed to her cheeks? “He won’t even know I’m gone. He’ll probably be catching up with his girlfriends. That’ll take all night.”
Liz shook her head. “I doubt it. He’s never been one for relationships. I have a feeling his family is partly to blame for that.”
“What do you mean?” Quinn rarely mentioned the rest of his family.
Liz patted her hand. “Long story—stories—silly family squabbles.”
Sarah laughed. “In other words, none of my business. Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
The older woman seemed to appraise her. “No, doll. That’s not what I meant. Every family has its skeletons, and it didn’t occur to me that you’d be interested in ours.”
“Well, you know about mine, so it’s only fair. If you feel like sharing. I’m running early anyway.”
Liz stared up at the ceiling. “It’s complicated. But I guess what family isn’t? I think it all started to derail right after the accident.”
Sarah leaned back on her hands. “Accident?”
“Quinnie didn’t tell you?”
“No. He’s never mentioned it.”
“Interesting. Well, Mike, Ronan, and I were coming back from a tournament in Minnesota. Ronan was in an elite league, like Quinn, only Quinn was a few years behind.”
“Quinn wasn’t with you?”
“No, he was competing in a different tournament, and he was billeting with a family in Portland, so he went with them.” She shook her head. “Thank God he wasn’t with us. Anyway, it was late, we were all exhausted, and we were smack in the middle of a winter snowstorm. I told Mike we should get a motel, but he was anxious to get home. We went round and round, and I lost that battle.” A wistful smile played over her features. “So we drove. Mike and I were supposed to share the driving—Ronan didn’t have enough experience for the road conditions. Mike agreed to wake me for my shift, and I fell asleep. When I woke up, it was long past time we were supposed to switch, but Mike was still behind the wheel. I could tell he was tired, and the snow was coming down in heavy, hypnotic flakes.
“When I suggested we pull over and trade, he just shook his head. I think some of that macho bravado was at play. ‘I’m the man. I’ll drive.’ Ronan was asleep in the backseat, and I tried not to, but I dozed off again. And then it happened.”
Something—the memory—passed through Liz’s bright eyes, dulling them. She appeared as though she watched a movie playing only in her head. Before continuing, she drew in a long, shuddering breath. “I woke up to the car hitting a guardrail—Mike had fallen asleep and the car drifted. It felt as though we spun forever, smashing and bouncing and scraping against that guardrail. It was horrible. I was terrified. My husband and my boy were in that car, and I thought we were all going to die.”
Sarah sat in stunned silence, wanting to reach out and take Liz’s hands, but they were firmly twisted in her lap. Instead, she rested her hand on Liz’s ankle, trying to suffuse her with strength and caring.
“Obviously, we didn’t die,” Liz chuckled mirthlessly. “But in some ways, we did. Ronan’s leg was fractured in three places and had to be pinned together. I suffered injuries, including head trauma the doctors think might have triggered the Parkinson’s. Mike didn’t get a scratch on him, and I think that was a worse fate. He couldn’t forgive himself for hurting me and for ending Ronan’s dreams of making it in the NHL, so he shut down. When he was offered a one-year coaching job in Poland, he jumped at it. I think the guilt was eating him up inside, and he wanted to leave the memories behind for a while, so I went along with it.
“One year turned into two. When he wanted to stay through a third year, I felt as though he’d given up on us, and I told him he was a coward.” She paused, hauling in a breath. “I was angry, hurt, and I told him not to come back. We’ve been in this strange limbo ever since. Right before I came to live with Quinn, I asked Mike for a divorce.”
Sarah’s eyes widened. “Does Quinn know?”
Liz shook her head. “No. I haven’t told either boy. Until things are settled between Mike and me, there’s no point. They don’t need the extra heartache.
“My poor Quinn took the brunt of his father’s guilt and his brother’s rage. Especially when he got drafted into the NHL. He and his brother had pushed each other, but then they’d been friends. That was shattered after the accident. Whether Ronan would have made it or not is something we’ll never know. But instead of enjoying Quinn’s success, Ronan became more jealous and Mike more guilt-ridden. Quinn was surrounded by a broken family through no fault of his own, and he took flak he didn’t deserve, so he put up his own walls. We’re all like individual guard towers, built out of the same stone, close in proximity but wholly apart. I wish it were different.
“I’m proud of what Quinn’s achieved. He’s smart, he’s determined, and when he makes up his mind about something, he’s tenacious. He goes all in. The fame and fortune came, and having no one to give him a reality check, he threw himself into a new lifestyle the same way he does everything. Wholeheartedly.”
“He doesn’t do anything halfway,” Sarah said almost to herself.
Liz laughed. “No, he most certainly does not. As a mother, I’m not terribly proud of some of his behavior, but I’m hopeful. I think you’re a good influence.”
Sarah’s surprise at this statement came out in a squeak. “Me?” In that moment, all she could picture were the overflowing swear jars.
“Yes, you. Usually, he surrounds himself with women who … Well, let’s say they have their own agendas and they tell him what he thinks he wants to hear, and he buys into it. Maybe it helps him forget. I don’t know. But these women aren’t the type he can build anything with. They won’t sustain him through the long haul.
“I think being around you grounds him in a way they won’t and I can’t. It’s good for him to know there are strong, intelligent women he can’t make swoon with a wink. That have far more substance than the bimbos he takes up
with.”
Sarah bit back a chuckle. Liz seemed not to notice, and she continued. “He respects you. He listens to you. I see it. What you do and say matters to him. And though he acts devil-may-care, it was a charade until you showed up and the real Quinn—the genuine, lighthearted one—re-emerged. I thought it had been lost.”
As she absorbed the details of Quinn’s family, Sarah’s head reeled. No way was she what Liz played her up to be, but still, she was touched.
She swiped at an errant tear on her cheek. “I’m so sorry about what happened, Liz. But at the same time, I’m glad you told me. It explains … Well, that insight helps me understand your family dynamic a little better.”
Liz sighed. “It’s a rather ugly dynamic. And my heart aches for us all. Especially Ronan. He’s turned this tragedy into something even more twisted by being vengeful. Did Quinn tell you about Jennifer?” When Sarah shook her head, Liz followed up with, “No, that doesn’t surprise me. It’s just one more unpleasant memory. Would you like to hear it?”
Did Sarah want to hear it? A surprising tug of jealousy said no. But curiosity, and a desire to understand, won the argument. “Yes, I would.”
“Quinn had just started dating Jennifer, a lovely girl. It wasn’t serious, but Ronan, for reasons known only to Ronan, pursued her behind Quinn’s back. I guess he wanted whatever he thought belonged to Quinn. And he got her.”
“So Ronan’s wife … the kids …”
“Yes. That’s Quinn’s Jen.”
Quinn’s Jen. Sarah realized her mouth had dropped open. “He must have been devastated.” Even as her head spun with everything Liz had stuffed into it, she tried to picture this girl Quinn had dated. It didn’t seem right to ask to see a picture of the happy family just to satisfy her perverse curiosity.
She realized Liz was talking, and she tuned back in. “It wasn’t as though Quinn was ready to marry the girl, but the idea that his brother—who’d once been his best friend—would hate him so much that he’d do such a thing … It was a blow, you know?”
Sarah recoiled. Where in the narrative was the blame to be laid at Jennifer’s feet? Ronan betrayed his brother by going after her in the first place, but it took two to tango, and Jennifer’s betrayal was just as stomach-turning as Ronan’s.
Liz seemed to remember herself. “Oh my gosh, Sarah. You have a date to get to, and I’m holding you up.” She made a pushing motion with her hands. “Go enjoy yourself!”
A bit dazed, Sarah left Liz’s room and wandered to the kitchen, only to face Quinn, who stood like a massive tree, his arms crossed over his chest. As he looked her over—with an expression she couldn’t read—she looked him over. Through yet another entirely different facet of the same crystal she’d been looking through. Who was this man?
Chapter 23
Sparky Blows a Fuse
Quinn tried to hold his jaw in place so it didn’t swing open and smack him in the chest. Because goddamn! Sarah cleaned up really, really well. Not that he’d suspected she wouldn’t clean up or that she wasn’t gorgeous in her natural state. But still, seeing her like this stole the breath from his lungs. And he hadn’t counted on that.
Women who caught his attention were typically either beautiful or hot. Sarah was beautifully hot. Or hotly beautiful. He couldn’t decide because he couldn’t put two words together, let alone muster a coherent string. So he just stared at her. And stared at her.
“What?” she snapped, bringing him out of his fog.
“I just … You’re not wearing one of your goofy T-shirts.”
“No, Sparky. I’m going on a grown-up date.”
“Dressed like that?” Oh Christ, could I sound any stupider?
Glancing downward, she ran her hands over her flat stomach and curvy hips, smoothing her clothes. He covertly made a thorough perusal of his own while her attention was drawn to her self-examination.
Fuck. Me.
He stood rooted in place by indecision. Should he follow her? Not let her leave in the first place? Throw her over his shoulder caveman style and haul her … into his bedroom? Or let her walk away?
She raised her hazel gaze to his, which was when he noticed she’d gone to the trouble of putting on makeup. Not a lot, but enough to brighten her eyes and skin. “What’s wrong with how I’m dressed? I thought the outfit was rather classy.”
Classy. Yeah, that was one way to describe the silky, form-fitting purple top and dark skinny jeans. Though it was modest, as in it covered everything, something about the outfit was also incredibly sexy. Maybe it was the way it made her smoky eyes pop. Or maybe it was because the fabric draped what it covered and put it on display, hinting at the skin beneath without revealing it. Maybe it was the damn stilettos. Really high, really shiny, really black. With a little bow on them.
He was grinding his back teeth so hard his jaw ached. He plastered on a fake smirk. “Isn’t that a little over the top for a guy you don’t know?”
Those beautiful eyes flashed and narrowed. “What are you? My second brother now?”
He tilted his head side to side, faking indifference. “I told Gage I’d look out for you.”
She snorted. “I don’t need him doing that, and I certainly don’t need you taking over for him, Junior.”
Junior? How could such an innocent word sting so badly and reduce him to a squawky-voiced, barely shaving punk?
He’d ponder that later. Right now, he was fixated on Sarah and her date. He’d done his intel on Drew. He knew the guy was a few years older than Sarah—one of those mature men she was so fond of. Not to mention he was some sort of damn consultant in the tech field, which made him smart. Fuck! And the guy played hockey—strictly beer-league stuff, but still, he had to be in shape, right?
“What time will you be home?” He sounded like his mother.
Sarah narrowed her sexy-as-fuck eyes at him. “What’s it to you?”
He mustered all the nonchalance in his arsenal, barely keeping his voice in neutral. “Things are a little crazy in the world right now, Sunshine, and I want to be sure I know what to expect in case … Well, I just want to know when to start worrying if you don’t come home.”
Now her sexy-as-fuck eyes widened. “Oh my God! Now you sound like my mother.”
I know. But he wasn’t about to back off. “So? When do you think?”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” she grumbled. Her eyes slid to the ceiling, and she seemed to count off. “Eleven? Midnight? I guess it depends on what we do after dinner.”
WTF? A flare ignited in his stomach. “What do you mean, ‘what we do after dinner’?”
“Like if we play a game or watch a movie or … whatever. Do you want me to text you when I’m on my way home so you know I haven’t been captured by aliens or slave traffickers?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Okay, Sparks. You got it. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She bent down to rub Archer’s head and cooed, “You take care of Sparky, okay? He looks like he’s about to detonate.” As she leaned over, Quinn caught a flash of creamy flesh being held in place by a black bra. Yeah, he was about to detonate all right.
After she’d left, he couldn’t scrub the image from his brain. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be giving Drew the same view when she bent over to pet T.J. and Natalie’s dogs, which brought to mind her bending over for Drew in an entirely different way. His heart rate skyrocketed.
He paced, thoughts and emotions colliding and wreaking havoc inside him. He waited all of about half an hour after she’d left before he texted her. Did you get there OK?
When she didn’t answer right away, he texted T.J. Sarah get there OK?
T.J.: Yep.
Quinn: So what are you guys doing?
T.J.: Talking. Chilling. Drinking beer. The orgy hasn’t started yet.
Quinn resisted the urge to tell T.J. what he could do with himself. Instead, he typed: Gage wanted me to keep an eye on her since he’s in the mountains.
T.J.: She’s
in good hands tonight.
Quinn chuffed, looked at his phone wondering whose hands, set the device down, picked it up, chuffed some more. Are you still pissed at me?
T.J.: About what?
Quinn: Press conference?
T.J.: WTF?
Quinn: Sorry, man. Thought you were still mad.
T.J.: No, but if you apologize for that little stunt one more time, I will be pissed. Same goes if you keep texting me. I want to enjoy myself tonight. Later.
Quinn let out a growl of frustration. Maybe he should drive over—
“Quinn?”
His mother’s voice startled him. She was leaning against a wall, giving him a tentative look. “Everything okay, son?”
A long, slow breath deflated him. “Yep. All good, Sassy. Ready for me to make you some dinner? A cup of tea?”
Her face lit. “And play Parcheesi?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, but you’d better not cheat.”
“I never cheat.”
“Pretty sure you do.”
“Quinn Anthony Hadley, I swear, if I could put you over my knee …”
“No swearing, Momster.” Without thinking, without knowing what he was doing, he walked toward her and pulled her into a hug. She sighed against him, and his arms wrapped around her frail frame. As natural as you please. Like they’d been doing this forever.
She disentangled herself and, with a tender smile, ran her slim fingers through the hair hanging in his face. As she pushed it back, her light blue eyes sparkled. “She’s just out to have some fun. We’re all a bit frayed around the edges right now, and it’ll be good for her. And you.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” He didn’t want to delve into understanding what his mother was implying, and it seemed easier to play along. He ran his hand over the shaggy hair at the back of his head.
Her eyes darted there. “I can give you a trim, if you like.”
The floppy strands had been driving him crazy. No visits to the hairdresser’s meant they’d gotten long and unruly. “Actually, yeah, that’d be nice.”