“Your mother said I was grumpy?” Sarah cringed a little inside, recalling Gage’s words about her coldness that day.
“Not exactly. That was my contribution.” He flashed her a smile that showed off his pearly whites, and her mind made a quick detour to whether they were all his. “She loves your dog, and apparently—though I have no idea why—she loves you too.”
Her cringe factor evaporated. “Um, thanks?”
“Right? I’m baffled too. Anyway, I was thinking since I can’t seem to hire a professional she likes—mostly she denies she needs help, but that’s another story—why not hire a non-professional she does like? And bonus, the dog is tuned in to her. It’d be like having two caregivers for the price of one.” His grin broke free, deepening the dimples. The thought of licking them sprang into her head, and she blinked rapidly, trying to bat away the ridiculous, intrusive image.
No way was she going to work for this playboy. She’d probably have to be on her guard twenty-four-seven to deflect his roaming hands and lips, and it had nothing to do with her being attractive. No, it was the mere fact she had X chromosomes that acted like a magnet to his steel dick. Whoa! Do not think about his dick and steel at the same time. Do not think about his dick. Period!
To distract herself, she blurted out the first thing that popped into her head. “So what would I have to do?”
“Be there during the day to help her do the little stuff. Her fine motor skills come and go, and sometimes she needs help buttoning something, or she can’t brush her hair, for instance. The more stress you can take off of her, the better she does. When I’m on the road, you’d need to spend the night. This is still new to her and me, so we’re working it out as we go.”
“How did you end up with her living with you anyway?”
He tugged a hand through his hair, and her eyes followed the motion. Jeez, he had thick hair. With lustrous streaks that reminded her of gold satin ribbon. She’d kill for hair like that. Why was it wasted on a dude? And did he go to a salon and have his hair highlighted? Yeah, she could totally see him being that guy. Nonetheless, she couldn’t avoid thinking of her fingers plowing through his thick strands. Stop!
His baritone pulled her back to the here and now. Thank God he wasn’t a mind reader because she didn’t need him getting the wrong idea. “She’s been living with my brother, Ronan. He and his wife recently had their third kid, and the house got a little rowdy for Mom, so voila.” He flipped his hands outward as if presenting something. “Quinn’s turn.”
When she didn’t respond right away, he helpfully added, “Voila is French for ‘ta-dah’!”
She gave him her best eye-roll. “Any other siblings? What about your dad?”
“Ronan and I are it. As for my dad, let’s just say Europe’s his home base and leave it there.” The tone of his voice told her way more than his words had. Something shifted in his eyes, like he’d eased open a window, catching her off guard.
“What does he do?”
“He coaches hockey. In Poland.”
Surprise overtook her features before she could reel it in. “Is he Polish?”
The window Quinn had cracked open snapped shut. “Long story.”
“So you’re your mother’s keeper, and you’re not happy about it.”
An exhale whooshed out of him. “It’s not that I’m unhappy. It’s just … it was unexpected. She’s never been that fond … Ronan’s the golden child, and it never occurred to me she’d want to move out. But that doesn’t matter. I just wish I could’ve planned … Yeah, if we’re being honest here, I guess I’m not thrilled. But I’m trying to adjust.”
Sarah snickered. “Having your mom around must make it tough to entertain the ladies.”
His mouth parted, and he regarded her for a moment, as if thoughts whirred through his mind that he debated spilling. Instead, he shrugged again—a little too casually. “However you wanna look at it. I did have this really cool place with incredible views, and I miss it. But no way would it have worked for her. So I rented the ludicrous house you saw yesterday.”
Huh. The thought of him doing something selfless for his mom might’ve nudged her opinion of him slightly to the positive side. “The house is ludicrous? I thought it was Architectural Digest-worthy.”
“It’s too big and pretentious. It reminds me of that person who tries too hard.”
She bit back the “Like you?” on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she went with, “But your mom has her wing and you have yours. Lots of privacy. Not to mention a sweet hot tub, a park for a backyard, and a gorgeous pool.” Jeez, now she was gushing like she was really impressed by his house. It occurred to her he might think she was equally impressed with him. Which she most certainly was not.
The appraising look was back on his face, though there was a smug quality to it now, lending it a “gotcha” vibe. Troll. “You saw the hot tub, and you liked it,” he said with a hint of … of triumph?
Her answer was a snarky huff.
He shifted his posture and his expression. “Okay. So we’ve established you like the house. That’s good … No, great! Means you’ll like working there.”
She held up her hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Not so fast, Sparky.”
He snorted, sounding like a moderately annoyed bull. “Why do you call me that? And what the hell did you mean the other night with your ‘lube and tune’ comment?”
She leaned back—way back—to
