The smell of bacon greeted her when she stepped into the kitchen the next morning to let Archer into the backyard. She’d slept like the dead and found herself trying to catch up to the buzz of a fully awake household.
She slurped the eye-popping coffee Lily deposited in front of her. “Ooh, I’m liking my soon-to-be sister-in-law more and more. Where’s Crazy Daisy?”
“I took her to school,” Gage replied, “and you’ve got about a half hour to get ready to see the new house. You and I are riding together, and Lily will drive on her own because she needs to measure stuff. Then I have to drop something off for a teammate. Why don’t you bring Archer? Our cat hasn’t come out from under the bed since you got here—this’ll give her a little reprieve.”
“Oh shit. I’d totally forgotten about Hobbes.”
Gage raised his eyes to hers. “Language?”
“Fuck. That’s right. Except Daisy’s not here, so I can say shit out loud, right?”
Lily burst out with a laugh. “Sarah, you can damn well say shit anytime she’s not in fucking earshot.”
Sarah held up her cup in a toast. “Lily, you and I are going to get along fucking splendidly.”
Gage rolled his eyes.
An hour later, they stood in a circular driveway facing what could have passed as a golf course clubhouse. Petite, auburn-haired Paige waited at the front door and waved.
When they reached her, she hugged everyone, ending with Sarah. “So I hear you’re moving to our beautiful state.”
“Moved.”
Paige pushed open one half of a double front door and motioned them inside. “Is this for a job?”
Though Paige asked innocently, the question jabbed Sarah in an uncomfortable place—like poking at an open sore. “No. Just wanted a change of scene. I’ll start job hunting tomorrow.”
What Sarah didn’t tell Paige was that the job she’d up and left was one she would have a hard time replacing. Not only had it been a promotion, but it had been a prestigious one that promised an express elevator ride to the top. When she’d discovered, however, that she hadn’t gotten the job entirely on her own merits, the luster had rubbed off quickly and, along with the rest of her sham life in Seattle, had gone into the crapper.
She lingered with Paige in the foyer while Gage and Lily wandered off.
“What do you do?” Paige asked.
Sarah let her eyes travel around the interior. Though architects drove her nuts, she appreciated their artistry, especially loving the lines of living spaces like this one. “I’m a structural engineer.”
Paige’s green eyes lit. “Ooh. So can you look at an old house and configure weight distributions for moving a load-bearing wall? That sort of thing?”
Sarah shrugged. “Totally. Those are usually pretty straightforward.”
They ambled toward a monstrous great room. “Would you be interested in consulting on some remodels I’m contemplating?”
From around the corner came Lily’s disembodied voice. “Paige hires all of us.”
Sarah’s confusion must have shown because Paige gave a little shrug and said, “I only hire the best, so I hired Lily and Natalie.”
Sarah followed Paige into a to-die-for kitchen where Lily stood behind a stone counter, grinning. “We’re becoming an all girls’ club. We should call ourselves something like Paige’s Petunias.”
“Oh God no!” Paige laughed. “That’s too close to ‘Pansies.’ We need a more kick-butt moniker. Maybe Paige’s Powerhouse Playermakers. P-Cubed.” She swiveled her head from side to side. “Is Gage where I think he is?”
Lily flicked her hand. “Yep. Checking out the basement. Again.”
“Good. Let’s plan a girls’ night out so we can pick an official club name.”
Gage entered from a doorway that led downstairs. “What are you three plotting?”
“Paige’s Plotters!” Lily and Paige sang together.
Sarah never hung with women—too whiny, too catty—but she felt a tug to be part of this career girls’ club. “I may not be part of the club—”
“Yet,” Paige interrupted, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
“Oh boy,” Gage muttered. “Look out, Denver.”
A half hour later, Gage and Sarah had left Lily and Paige behind and pulled up to the teammate’s house. Correction, mansion. Castle. The teammate turned out to be Quinn, the babe-magnet engineer from the bar. So what if he had smarts? He still was a jock hockey player. Emphasis on player, judging by the hair and the take-no-prisoners dimples he flashed repeatedly at members of the opposite sex. He was one of those guys who knew how he affected women, and he was skilled at working it—practice makes perfect and all that.
Like Wolf. Prick.
“Hey, Bro, I’m just gonna stay out here so Archer can do his business and have a sniff-around.” She leashed her dog and led him out of the backseat.
“You sure you don’t want to see this house? I hear it’s got a swimming pool and a racquetball court and a home theater almost as big as a real theater.”
Nothing worse than an entitled player. “No, thanks. I’m good.”
“Suit yourself,” Gage called back. “If you change your mind—”
“I won’t.”
The gonging doorbell startled Quinn. It always did, even though he’d been in this ridiculous house over a month now. He threw open the door to Nelson’s grinning face. “Hey. C’mon in.” Over Nelson’s shoulder, he spotted a woman walking a dog along the grass median. When she turned, he caught the flash of electric-pink hair. “Your sister’s welcome to come in too.”
Nelson glanced over his shoulder. “She’s gonna hang with her dog.”
Fine by me. Quinn wasn’t in the mood for Sarah Nelson’s acerbic tongue today anyway, especially not with the hangover mercilessly pounding his skull.
“Quinn,” came his mother’s shrill voice from somewhere. Hell, the house was so big it was hard to
