There is no us, Wolf. What world do you live in? Do not ever call me again.
As he glanced at his mother relaxing in the hot tub, his mind churned. Who the hell was this Wolf asshole, and why was he harassing Sarah? Then it struck him. The douchebag must’ve been why she left Seattle. Was she running from him? Did Gage know? Not that it mattered because Sarah was in Quinn’s house now. She was a bro’s sister, and now she was Quinn’s responsibility.
Overwhelming protectiveness surged within him. It was a weird feeling, one he’d only experienced once before, when his dad had left his mom behind to galavant off to Europe.
“Quinnie!” His mother interrupted his thoughts with a frowny face. “Where’s Sarah?”
He nearly laughed out loud. Two times in his life he’d felt a primal urge to safeguard someone, and each time that someone had been a crabby, mouthy woman.
Before he could ponder it further, his mother’s scowl returned him to the here and now. “She had to take care of something inside, and I told her I’d come get you. Do you need me to lift you out?”
A triumphant little smile curved his mother’s lips. “No. Watch this.”
Slowly, she levered herself out of the hot tub while he stood there somewhat stunned, arms tense in case she stumbled and he needed to catch her. But to his utter amazement and delight, she didn’t stumble. Instead, she stood on the decking and smiled up at him proudly before breaking into body-shuddering shivers.
“Oh shit!” He snatched up a towel and threw it over her slight shoulders. “Sorry, Mom.”
She pointed an accusing finger at him.
“I know.” He gave her an eye-roll. “Two bucks.” Shit, he was going to go broke.
When they got back inside, Sarah Sunshine seemed to have recovered, acting as though no Wolf had sunk his fangs into her. Though the afternoon passed quietly, Quinn fought the urge to pepper her with questions; her affairs were none of his business. Nonetheless, the unsettling episode bothered him, and he ran through different scenarios to shake the truth from her. All this played in his mind as he watched her maneuver his mom with a finesse he obviously lacked. Maybe it was because they were bonding over girl shit, like the stinky dye Sarah was currently slathering on his mom’s hair as they chatted.
“We’ll do the tips in teal and the rest in this golden brown. How’s that?”
“Oh yes, please,” his mom said. “But what about you? Aren’t you coloring your hair too?”
“Yep. Well, I’m turning it back to its natural color. I’m over the pink.” Sarah hummed, then said, “Liz, have you thought about setting some mobility goals? I know you’re dying to spend less time in the wheelchair, and we could build on your good days a bit at a time. What do you think?”
“I love that idea!”
Wow. Only here a few days, and Sarah was light years ahead of anyone else he’d hired. Maybe because she seemed to give a damn. Why hadn’t he thought of setting up a plan, just like his trainers did with him?
Feeling a little sheepish—and wanting to get away from the god-awful smell—he retreated to his bedroom, relieved he could do so without worrying about his mom. There, he scooped up his beanbags and began juggling—which was when he remembered his other phone. He pulled it out and fired it up, listening to a dozen or so voicemails from his out-of-town regulars. The messages were all pretty much the same, hoping he was doing okay and saying how sorry they were that they wouldn’t be seeing him soon. Yeah, me too.
The last three voicemails were from Dory, which set off his wacko radar. Why the hell had he given her this number? The more important question was, why the hell had he slept with her? His fear factor took a step back from the ledge as he cued them up and listened. Nothing stalkerish. Simply pleasant, brief hello-thinking-of-yous. He blew out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, then typed out the same text to each woman—even Dory—who’d called him: Thanks for thinking of me. Hope you’re staying safe and that this doesn’t last much longer.
A knock on his door commandeered his attention, and he stuffed the phone in his pocket.
“Dinner in ten.”
Dinner in ten? He wrenched his door open, and Sarah Sunshine nearly flew backward. “You made dinner?” he said. Her short do was one color, a rich, dark brown that caught the light and reflected it in reds. The pink hadn’t bothered him—he hadn’t cared, honestly—but now he found himself wondering why she’d ever want to change it. It was really pretty.
“Well, yeah. I … There’s a lot of fresh stuff that I didn’t want to see go to waste, so … But don’t get your hopes up, Sparky. This is not what you’re used to. No five-star gourmet fare by any stretch of the imagination. My cooking’s more like Betty Crocker’s newbie apprentice.”
Wyatt’s comment about finding Playboy Bunny Betty streaked through Quinn’s head. Would she be a brunette? He shoved the thought aside. “Who says that’s what I’m used to? Oh, by the way, I have something for you.”
She took a step back and cinched her arms over a black T-shirt that read, “May the 4th Be With You.” He slid the phone out and handed it to her.
“What the hell’s this?”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “That’s a buck.”
“Your phone’s a Buck? Never heard of that brand.”
“No, Sunshine. ‘Hell’ is worth a buck. For the swear jar. That”—he pointed at the phone—“is a spare phone I’m not using right now. If you want to give the number to your family, anyone you want to be able
