“Well, the salon had to furlough all of us so, uh, I haven’t been doing much of anything besides binge-watching Friends.”
“Oh. Didn’t know you were into that show.” What else did he not know about her? So much. And that had always been fine with him.
She laughed—how had he forgotten her laugh sounded like a bray? “Oh yeah. This is like the fourth time I’ve watched the whole season from start to end.”
Huh. “With all this free time on your hands, wouldn’t you want to watch something different?”
“Like what?” She sounded genuinely mystified. “Why? What are you watching? As if I couldn’t guess, dirty boy,” she said slyly.
He ignored her inference. “Not exactly binge-watching, but I’m getting caught up on Impossible Engineering. I’m also enjoying Shark vs Tuna.”
This seemed to blow her little mind because she didn’t respond.
“Theresa? You still there?”
“I’m here.”
Normally, their time on the phone was short and deliberate—to set up a meeting place. And they often did that by texting. He usually took her to dinner, but what did they talk about? He couldn’t remember. Mostly, she talked while he sat, focused on getting back to her place, where conversation stopped and they got down to the real purpose for seeing each other.
“So, uh,” he began, “what’s the weather like down there?”
“Hot! And sticky. Hopefully, it’ll cool off tomorrow.” Another long pause. “What’s it like where you are?”
“On the cool side.”
As he hunted for a different topic of conversation, it struck him full force that all he had in common with this woman was sex. Not that there was anything wrong with that—it had been the reason he’d pursued her in the first place. Or had she pursued him? Didn’t matter because, either way, stark ramifications were staring him in the face. Ramifications such as how conversation between them bumped and jolted, like people on skates for the first time.
He found himself anxious to escape what was turning into an extremely awkward phone call and hustle downstairs before Sarah turned in for the night. Maybe he could convince her to climb into the hot tub with him. No, bad idea. Maybe that poker game? A round or ten of cribbage? Parcheesi? He didn’t care what the game was. Or they could curl up on the couch and watch something, anything, close enough that he could breathe her in.
“Quinn?” Theresa’s voice jarred him back to the conversation he was supposed to be engaged in.
“Ah, yeah?” He cleared his throat.
“Did you hear what I said?”
No effing idea. “Which part?”
“Guess I tied your tongue, didn’t I?” she tee-heed. “The part about showing you what I’m wearing and letting you watch me pull it off slowly—”
Something crashed downstairs. “Hey, Theresa, I gotta go, but it’s been nice talking to you. Take care, okay?”
“Uh, okay. Bye, Quinn. Will I hear from you?”
Unbidden, a forceful “No” popped into his head. “Sure. Once we get back to normal, I’ll be in touch.”
He barely had time to chuck the phone on the bed before zooming downstairs. His heart hammered his rib cage as all sorts of bloody clips played through his head. When he got to the darkened kitchen, Sarah was frozen in place on the other side of the island, staring at the floor.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
She lifted wide eyes to his. Then she covered her mouth, and her shoulders began shaking.
“Are you hurt?” He rounded the island. His gaze landed on what she’d been looking at, though he couldn’t quite comprehend what he saw. As if she’d been trying to hold back a bursting dam, she suddenly let go, and peals of laughter rolled through her body.
Scattered at her bare feet were piles of bills and shards of glass from the now shattered swear jar. “I was … I was … trying … and then …” Her words came out in gasps, she was laughing so hard. “The whole … the damn thing …” She doubled over in hysterics, causing laughter to bubble up and out of him.
“Don’t move until I clean up the glass. How did it happen?”
She finally caught her breath. “I was putting money in, and I knocked it over. Now we can swear all we want!” Another fit of laughter.
By the time he returned with a handheld vacuum, she was shaking splinters from money and setting it gingerly on the counter. Her body still shuddered with mirth.
“Where’s my mom?”
Sarah stooped, reached, and plucked a bill off the floor. “She turned in. I’m surprised she hasn’t come out to find out what the loud crash was all about.”
Quinn motioned for Sarah to stand still while he sucked up shards around her feet. “She probably didn’t hear it. Her bedroom’s too far away.”
Sarah inched out her big toe.
“Stop moving until I get this cleaned up!” he barked. “Where’s Archer?”
“Outside.” Her answer to his order was to dance in tight little circles, swinging her hips from side to side. She might as well have flipped him off.
He set the mini vac aside, trying not to laugh at her antics. “As usual, you’re being a total pain in the ass. No more Mr. Nice Guy.”
“When have you ever—” She let out a screech when he swooped her up. “What the hell are you doing?” She kicked her feet until he dumped her unceremoniously on the couch, where she promptly gusted with more laughter and rolled off.
He let out a few chuckles and wagged a finger at her. “Stay. Better yet, go find another vase. Maybe we can make this look like nothing happened.”
She popped up, and as she walked away, his conversation with Theresa shot through his mind, along with the feeling of being off balance, unable to relax. By contrast, the tension that had had his insides wadded up was already melting away.
Chapter 17
Stud, Draw, or Strip?
Whatever had pissed Quinn off and sent him stomping away seemed long gone, and Sarah found herself breathing a
