“It’s not me.” She shrugged, which drew his attention to a thin, stretchy, white strap under the oversized sweater that kept slipping off her shoulder. “She had the desire all along. She just needed a nudge.”
Guilt washed over him. “Yeah, I should have tried harder.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Sparky. Between moving into a new place and being on the road, your life was a little chaotic. It’s amazing you pulled off what you did. I think it’s sweet how concerned you are about her.”
A tickle in his belly flustered him. He hadn’t done shit and didn’t deserve a compliment from Sarah Sunshine, no matter how much he craved it. The “fidgets,” as his mother had called them when he was a kid, bumped through his body, making him twitch. He sprang up. “Well, uh, I just wanted you to know that if you’re ever worried about Wolf, come get me. Day or night.”
“Thanks.”
He turned to leave.
“Do you play cribbage?” she asked.
“What?”
“Cribbage. You know, a game involving a board with pegs and a deck of cards?”
He scratched the back of his neck. Jeez, he needed a haircut. “It’s been a while. I think we used to play as kids.”
She tilted her head and smiled—a slow, subtle smile that curved her sensuous lips—and watched him as if waiting for something.
What she was trying to say finally got through to him. “What? You want to play cribbage now?”
“Why not? You got something better to do? Let’s see if you can put your money where your mouth is.” And just like that, the smirk was back. For a brief second, he wondered what it would take to bring that other smile back—the one that seemed alluringly private.
“Wait. My mouth hasn’t claimed anything when it comes to cribbage.”
Sarah twirled her hand. “Not specifically, but it sort of goes along with the whole cocky thing you’ve got going. C’mon. Let me beat your ass at something else.”
“That’s a buck.”
“No, it’s not. I thought we decided ‘ass’ is not a swear word.”
“When you say it, it is.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to give you shit.”
“Two bucks!” she cried triumphantly.
“Fu—I totally walked into that one.”
“C’mon, Sparky. Let’s have some fun. Or are you chickensh—sherbet? The game doesinvolve counting, after all.”
“Chicken sherbet?” he chortled. “How about you and I make a deal?”
She quirked a suspicious eyebrow. “What kind of deal?”
“As long as Mom’s not around, we forget the swear jar and say what comes naturally.”
A long, slow nod. “I like it. I’m in.”
Ha! They were on the same side for a change; it had only taken swearing. All of him suddenly sparked like he’d been dosed with caffeine. Even parts of him that shouldn’t. What was wrong with him? Oh, right. He had a bad case of the fidgets, and he needed to get laid.
She eyed him. “So, cribbage? Or are you afraid the counting will tax your brain?”
Yeah, he could use Sarah Sunshine’s stupid game—and her sass—as a distraction. What the hell could it hurt? “Hey, I can count. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have a degree—”
“In engineering. Blah, blah. Yeah, yeah.” One corner of her mouth curled up. “We all know how smart you think you are. Now stop bragging and get some cards. I’ll grab my cribbage board.”
Before he could toss back a retort, she was sashaying away, Archer on her heels. Quinn tried not to look at the way her hips swayed or the roundness of her ass in her yoga pants. Instead, he tried to imagine Nelson choking him out, but somehow his eyes lingered on Sarah’s curvy backside and made him wonder—again—at the softness under the fabric.
What the actual fuck is wrong with me? And how many more times am I going to ask myself that question?
Her voice sliced through his fog, bringing to mind the sound of gnashing teeth. Nothing soft about it. “Cards, Sparky. Hop to it.” He snapped right the hell back to the here-and-now and hustled in search of a deck of cards.
Three winless games and three beers later, Quinn hopped up to grab more brews while Sarah shuffled the deck. Gas flames danced in the fireplace, and mellow music played in the background with Sarah humming along. Either his fidgets had finally simmered down or he was beer-buzzed. Three shots of rum might have had something to do with it too. In the kitchen, he fished out two cold ones, popped them open, handing one to Sarah when he walked back into the family room.
Graceful eyebrows rose to her hairline. “Another beer? I haven’t finished the last one you gave me.”
He got caught in her gaze and quickly shook himself free. “Your eyes change color. Did you know that?”
“Yep. Depends on mood, lighting, all kinds of things. They’re usually brownish-green, but they can vary from golden brown to gray-green and anything in between. They used to turn blue when I was a kid. They’re also two different colors, just like Gage’s.” She paused a beat, taking in what must have been his confused expression. “Haven’t you ever noticed Gage’s eyes are two distinct shades of blue?”
“Uh, no. Then again, I’ve never stared into his eyes.”
Apparently, she found this very amusing because—besides overlooking his slip about staring into her eyes—she snorted and doubled over. “Yeah, Gage might rearrange that pretty face of yours if you gave him the googly eyes.”
Googly eyes? Nah, no way did Quinn give Sarah anything remotely resembling googly eyes. Okay. So maybe he wasn’t the only one buzzed.
Sarah’s head was swimming in a gurgling stream of happy bubbles. She dealt the cards and finished off the third beer before starting on the fresh one Quinn had brought her. Damn, she hoped she could count accurately during this round. The last round had been a challenge, but then again, Quinn wasn’t doing any better because she’d whooped his ass three times in a row. I don’t do anything halfway. No, he was losing all the way.
She began giggling uncontrollably. She should have felt self-conscious, but Quinn
