“Why not? Her smarts qualify her for any job. Besides, you can pay her far better than whatever she could earn as an engineer.”
“While that may be—and thanks for spending my money for me, by the way—they’re two different jobs from two completely unrelated industries.” He blazed ahead. “Third, she has a dog, and I’m not having a dog here. The lease probably doesn’t allow it anyway.”
His mother clapped as though she hadn’t heard a damn thing he’d said. “Yes, and Archer was being trained as a service dog. Did you see what he did? Of course you did. You were standing right there. I love dogs. Archer would be perf—”
“Did I mention Sarah hates my guts?” Quinn flicked out another finger. “That leads me to four: You don’t need that kind of tension around you. Fifth, I don’t like her.”
“Really? What’s wrong with you?” Now his mother held up her fingers and began counting off. “First of all, I like her. Second, she’s cute as a button. Third, she’s sharp as a tack. Fourth, she makes me laugh. Fifth, I like her dog. Sixth, she’ll take me to get my nose pierced. At least talk to her, Quinn. For me.”
His mind was wobbling like an unbalanced top. How was he going to derail his mom from this beyond-insane track? He pondered relenting for a nanosecond before giving the idea the heave-ho. Sarah Sunshine in his house? Twenty-four-seven? Hell no.
Even if that meant it was all on him to take care of his mom?
Fuck me.
The only retort he could muster was, “Pretty sure there’s an age limit for getting your nose pierced.” As he opened his wallet and emptied bills into the swear jar, he huffed. “Discussion closed.”
He was pretty damn sure his mother mumbled, “We’ll just see about that.”
Chapter 5
Because My Mom Made Me
The next night, as the team celebrated its win over the Rangers, Sarah realized they might not be safe from COVID-19. They were back at the same restaurant they’d visited a few nights ago, in a private dining room tucked out of the way. She was seated between Gage and Natalie at a noisy table filled with Blizzard players and their WAGs—wives and girlfriends—or would that be WADs? Wives and dates? She suppressed a chuckle just as Wyatt, the birthday boy, held up his phone.
“Basketball’s just been suspended for the season.”
The boisterous group went quiet, voices stilled in mid-speak.
Quinn, who sat across from her, piped up. “What? Why?”
“They think it’s unsafe for big groups to congregate. Like, this stuff is super contagious. The NBA suggested playing without fans, but the players balked. So no basketball,” Wyatt answered with a shrug.
Six seats away, Hunter leaned over the table. “Any word on what’s happening with the NHL?”
“Not yet,” Wyatt shot back. “The league’s announcing their decision tomorrow.”
Quinn rocked backward in his seat. “Jesus, aren’t they blowing this whole thing out of proportion? A few cases in the US and suddenly we’re shutting down the NBA?” He shook his head and grumbled. “If they’re gonna throw everyone into panic mode, the least they can do is leave them their sports for a distraction.”
Last night, Sarah would have agreed. But tonight? The NBA wouldn’t just shut down because they were scared of an everyday flu bug. Unease flared up her spine. This had to be a lot more serious than she’d initially thought.
Hunter called to Quinn, “Hey, idiot.” Quinn darted him daggers, but Hunter barreled on. “Do you have any idea how many people have died from it already? The stuff’s lethal. And just because it hasn’t taken hold here doesn’t mean it won’t.”
Gage held up his beer. “Then I propose a toast. If this is our last game for a while, it was a great note to end on.”
“Hear, hear!” someone shouted.
Ringing of bottles and glasses filled the space with cheerful sound. Feeling out of place, Sarah raised her beer halfheartedly. Across from her, Quinn folded his arms across his chest. He reminded her of a sulking six-year-old, and it almost pulled a smile from her. Kinda puts a stop to the puck bunny parade, doesn’t it?
The table soon returned to its former decibel level, and conversations around her were drowned out in the din. Natalie hopped up to visit with some of the WAGs, or WADs, leaving the seat beside Sarah vacant. Gage’s back was to her, his head bent to Lily’s.
Sarah pulled her phone from her jeans, intent on fading into the background while she checked job apps, but she never got the chance. A big body pulled out Natalie’s chair and sat, taking up so much space his shoulder brushed hers with heat and hardness.
“Hey,” Quinn said. How had he snuck up on her?
She looked around. “You talking to me?”
“None other. I wanted to ask you something.”
She sat back and braced herself. Just what she was bracing for, she wasn’t sure. “Fire away.”
“Have you considered being a caregiver while you’re job hunting?”
To say this question came as a surprise was the understatement of the year. Her brows knitted together. “Uh, no. Why would I do that?”
He shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I have a job opening that pays really well?”
“Giving care to a certain body part?”
His dimples made an appearance despite the fact he hadn’t turned on his brightest smile, and he trained liquid brown eyes on hers as if he was trying to read something. She disguised her body squirm by crossing her legs.
When he spoke, his voice rolled out in a sexy, whiskey purr. “Tempting as that sounds”—he waggled his eyebrows—“I’m actually thinking of my mother.”
“You want me to take care of your mother’s body part?”
He chuckled. “In a manner of speaking, and not just one part. All her parts.”
Sarah’s confusion must
