Her focus didn’t sharpen on what she was supposed to be doing until he left. Trying not to consider how ridiculous she was, she instead formulated how she could time her gym visits so she wasn’t sharing the space with him. Except he needed her help with the bench press. Wait. This wasn’t her dilemma because that would mean she gave a rat’s ass about him, which she most certainly did not.
Chapter 10
Let’s Flamingle
Quinn ordered Chinese delivery for Sarah’s first dinner to make it easy on everyone. She jumped right in, making herself comfortable in the kitchen as she found and laid out plates, napkins, silverware. She even found chopsticks and opened a few beers. Like she belonged there. In order to keep his borderline aggravation under control, he reminded himself she was supposed to act like she belonged there.
As she buzzed around the table, she kept commenting on how good everything smelled. He got the idea it was more for his mom’s benefit than her own because honestly, girl looked like she could stand a few extra pounds. Nelson had mentioned something about her having a hard time in Seattle, and maybe that was the reason she was on the skinny side. Wonder what happened? She’d changed from her workout clothes and apparently showered because her hair was still damp. Tonight’s T-shirt was turquoise, and bright pink flamingos adorned it. The saying read, “Let’s Flamingle.” Christ. Maybe she owned a T-shirt shop that had gone belly up?
They sat down to eat, and she surprised them when she popped out of her seat. She reminded him of a jumping bean. “Shit! I forgot the soy sauce.”
His mom fixed an amused eye on Sarah Sunshine. “Did Quinn tell you about the swear jar?”
In a cosmic, comical spectacle, Sarah froze and gave Quinn wide eyes. “Told you,” he mouthed at her before settling into a smug smile.
She straightened the hem of her T-shirt and faced his mom. “Um, how much do I owe?”
His mom giggled. Actually giggled. Then waved her off. “Nothing this time.”
“What?” He let his outrage come through. “How come she gets a pass?”
Pointing a chopstick at him, his mother said, “Quinnie. I give you all sorts of passes all day long. You just don’t know it. This is Sarah’s first day, so she gets a pass too.” She gave Sarah a Cheshire-cat grin and bobbed her head as if to punctuate her edict.
Sarah bit her bottom lip. The corners of her mouth tipped up, and her hazel eyes brightened. Shit, that was kinda cute. Wait! Poison ivy is not cute, and neither is Sarah Nelson. He shoveled in a mouthful of food and mumbled PG curses while he chewed.
Dinner conversation was animated, all over the map, and his mother participated fully, to his delight and frustration. They barely talked at the table when it was just the two of them, with him forever stretching across awkward silences for some commonality, something they were both interested in that would catch a conversation on fire. Fortunately, he’d been on the road a lot, so it hadn’t been an everyday issue, but when he’d been home, he’d taken to eating in front of the TV to avoid the discomfort. But tonight—this … wasn’t so bad.
As Sarah served her a second helping—how the hell did she get Mom to eat that much?—his mother peered at her. “How do I get pink hair?”
Quinn nearly dropped the beer bottle he’d tipped to his lips. Sarah clapped her hands, reminding him of a little kid. More cute behavior that caught him off guard. Thank God he wasn’t into cute. Hot, dirty, sexy as fuck. That’s what he was into, and Sarah was none of those. Not that he’d ever look at her that way anyway. A picture of a pissed-off brother loomed in his imagination.
“I don’t know if you color your hair,” Sarah spurted, “but I picked up supplies in case.”
His mother’s eyes danced. “How fun! What about the pink? I like what you have.”
Sarah flipped a hank of her own hair and craned her head to inspect it. “The pink’s not holding up as well as I thought. I do have a cool teal we could use on you. Or we can order something off of Amazon.”
Quinn watched in stunned fascination as they chitchatted about hair dye and girlie shit. He never even knew his mom colored her hair. Didn’t know his mom was into girlie shit. Why hadn’t that occurred to him before? He couldn’t say taking a trip to Girl Twilight Zone was unpleasant, though. Just weird.
“Are you going to finish your meal?” he asked Sarah when they were finishing up. She’d had maybe half a plate, and her portion hadn’t been big to begin with.
Without looking up, she flapped her hand at him. “No, you can have it.”
“That’s not what I meant. I just thought … Aren’t you hungry?” Aw, crap. Maybe she doesn’t like what I ordered. Except he’d ordered just about everything on the menu. Was she a picky eater? Probably. It would go along with her pain-in-the-ass persona.
She gave him a shrug. “I had plenty. I’ll get the dishes.”
“Um, no.”
He was hyperaware of his mother’s bemused gaze bouncing between them.
Sarah stood and began collecting plates. “I got this. I have to get used to your kitchen anyway.”
“But I didn’t hire you to cook or be a maid.”
“Chillax, Sparky. It’s what I usually do. No special treatment for you.”
“Sparky!” his mother howled. “Oh, that’s priceless!”
Sarah grinned at her in response.
Annoyance spiked, but the phone on the counter vibrated, and he rose to check caller ID. A split second later, the phone in
