Ironic that the very part of her he’d found attractive was the first one he’d tried to manipulate. More ironic, she’d let him do it. Hadn’t she always striven for independence? Worn her sass like a badge of honor? But she’d twisted herself into a pretzel to please him, to be all things to him. Why she hadn’t registered the maneuverings in their relationship she hadn’t a clue, but now she found herself constantly second-guessing her appeal.
Blind love made people do stupid things.
She stood and blazed a path to the ladies’ room. No sooner had she locked herself in a stall but Sparky’s giggly groupies stumbled in. Cocking her head, Sarah peeked through the door’s gap.
One of the blonds fanned herself. “Oh my God, Dory, he is even hotterin person! You lucky bitch!”
The one named Dory pushed her friend’s shoulder. “On top of that, the man is packed. I thought I was gonna choke when I went down on him.”
A shock of electricity jolted Sarah’s gut. Oh God, oh God, oh God! No, no, no! TMI! I do not want to hear this.
“I love those dimples. And his hair! And he’s so funny!” Not-Dory squealed. “Now I get why you nailed him in the backseat of his truck the other night.”
Gah! And now more information I can’t unhear!
Dory applied scarlet lipstick and puckered at herself in the mirror. “His very nice truck. That was fun once, but tonight he’s gonna have to take me to his place or a nice hotel if he wants to fuck me. I am not a slut.”
Sarah suppressed the overpowering urge to explode with a laugh.
Not-Dory’s manicured eyebrows bounced. “Maybe he gets off on doing it in cars.”
Dory grabbed her double-Ds and gave them a squeeze. “This is what he gets off on. And he can have them in his fancy house or a high-end hotel with room service.”
They broke into a gigglefest and headed out of the restroom, Not-Dory saying something about a freeway. Or was that a three-way?
The jolt that had zapped Sarah’s gut took on a roiling sensation that made her wonder if she’d be able to keep her dinner down. She pulled in deep cleansing breaths, willing her stomach’s contents to settle down. As she did, her mind wandered for a moment. Were these the kinds of women men really wanted? Dainty, top-heavy darlings who spent more time sculpting their assets than their brains?
Well, it appeared to be what Sparky wanted, just as it appeared he was about to get himself another lube and tune tonight. Probably more than one. Good on him.
But who gave a flipping fuck? Not her, that was for damn sure.
Chapter 6
Never Proposition a Fish
Quinn parked inside the unlit garage at the back of his dark house and threaded his way inside. What time was it? 5 a.m.? Jesus, he was beat. Crawling into his own bed was his prime mission.
Until he walked into his house and found his mother curled up on the couch in the family room.
Shit! Busted!
She hadn’t been there an hour ago, when he’d sneaked himself and Dory out of his own house. Did Mom know he’d brought a girl home? Nah. Impossible. He’d taken Dory to an unused guest room in a separate wing and had made sure they kept the noise down—though Dory’s voice had climbed when he’d told her it was time for him to drive her back. Yeah, he’d felt a little douchy about that. Not that he hadn’t taken care of her too because he had, and she’d acted as though she’d enjoyed herself.
Nevertheless, girl had to understand the score. He didn’t cuddle, and he never let them stay over. Hell, he never brought them home! He was still trying to figure out why he’d let himself get talked into it. Once again, he’d turned over common sense to his low-IQ dick. Dory had been clinging to him like a statically charged piece of plastic he couldn’t shake free. Between her rubbing her hot body against him and just enough alcohol in his system to hip-check his smarter self out of the equation, turning over control to his libido had taken on an undeniable appeal.
They couldn’t go to her place, and she wouldn’t do the backseat again, so he’d brought her here because it seemed easier than trying to grab a hotel room at 2 a.m. Rookie mistake. Well, he wasn’t bringing her here again. Didn’t plan on seeing her again.
Meanwhile, his mother seemed to be asleep, and his prime mission shifted to getting away without disturbing her. Guilt tugged him toward her still figure. She looked peaceful, and relief spread through him.
As he crept toward the stairs, her sleep-raspy voice nearly launched him out of his socks. “You’re late.”
Fuck me! She’d always had eyes in the back of her head. “I’m too old for curfews … in my own house,” he retorted. He pivoted in time to see her pull herself upright, and he softened his tone. “Why are you awake?”
“Couldn’t sleep. I thought moving out to the family room would help, but I was wrong.”
He took a seat beside her. “Bad night?”
In the dim light, he recognized the mother from his youth. No lines, no gray. The sight tightened steel bands around his chest, and he quickly forgot his fatigue. When he’d been a kid, he’d thought his mother was the most beautiful woman who ever lived. And now? She was still there.
A sigh escaped her. “Yes. No. Just the usual.” She zeroed in on him, like she used to do when he lived at home and her sixth sense had tipped her off that he’d
