How that had happened, he couldn’t be sure, but even an image of her pissed-off brother was no longer a deterrent.
His vibrating phone gave him an iota of control. Reading the text calmed his libido down by reminding him of a different, unsettling problem.
Paige: There’s some confusion over the security system. Landlord claims it’s owned outright, but the alarm company that installed the equipment claims it’s leased. The dispute may take a bit to resolve, but I’ll keep working with them to iron it out.
Quinn: Meaning?
Paige: Meaning they won’t activate the equipment, so for now no monitoring and no alerts. Are you having security issues?
Quinn: Not yet. Just prepping.
Paige: COVID zombies or crazy female fans?
Quinn: One potentially crazy female fan.
Paige: Being married to Beckett Miller, this is a risk I understand. She’s prolly harmless.
Quinn: Prolly.
Paige: Got backup until I can sort this for you?
Quinn: Backup?
Paige: A dog? A gun? Hermione’s magic spells placed around the perimeter?
Quinn: LOL. Dog and his badass owner.
Paige: Sarah and Archer. You’re safe, then.
Quinn wasn’t so sure he agreed.
Chapter 20
Read to Me
Sarah awoke to her phone buzzing. What time was it? How long had she been out? Her eyes focused on the incoming call, and she picked it up.
“Sar!”
“Hey, Bro.” Her voice came out thick, groggy.
“How are you feeling?”
“I have no idea. Just woke up.”
“Shit. Sorry. Quinn’s been keeping me up to date, and he thought it’d be okay if I called.”
“It’s fine. It’s nice to talk to a friendly voice.”
“Is Quinn not being friendly?” Gage’s voice held a puzzled tone.
“No, he’s been great. Beyond great. This is going to sound really strange, but besides Grandma—in her heyday—I couldn’t ask for a better caregiver.” A less smothering one, perhaps, but it’s sort of cute the way he worries and hovers. Sarah smiled at the ironic twist that had switched caregiver roles. And yeah, she was surprised by Quinn’s attentiveness. She never would have guessed the guy had it in him.
As he’d been doing since she’d first moved in, Quinn Hadley was canting her view of him.
“What kind of care?” Gage growled.
“Knock it off, would you? Nothing’s happening. He’s been a perfect gentleman, and I’ve been sick.”
The attitude evaporated. “Oh. Sorry, Sar. You’ll let us know if you need anything, right?”
“Of course.” If Quinn doesn’t beat you to it.
They talked a while longer, and when they hung up, Sarah was exhausted. She flopped backward on the pillows. God, I wish this would end already! She rarely got sick, hated showing weakness, and was an impatient patient.
Archer suddenly flew into the room, all wags and tongue. “Buddy! Where were you?” She dropped her hand on his head, and he smiled while she stroked his fur.
A breathless Quinn wasn’t far behind. “Hey, Sunshine. We were shooting pucks in the driveway. Well, I was shooting and he was retrieving. Were you just on the phone?”
“Yeah. Gage called. He’s convinced we’re having wild monkey sex twenty-four-seven. He’s ready to swoop down from the mountains and whisk me away.”
Quinn’s liquid brown eyes grew round. “Was he serious?”
“About the monkey sex or whisking me away? I guess it would be both.”
He blinked.
Sarah chuckled, which led to coughing, which led to wheezing, which made her chest tighten and her ribs ache.
He dropped onto the edge of the bed, making the mattress dip. She rolled against his hip and tried to extricate herself while coughs racked her body. He gently picked her up and placed her against the pillows. “Something to drink? Cough medicine? What do you need?”
“How about a bottle of bourbon?” she croaked.
“Not on your meds list, babe, but nice try.”
Babe? There it is again. Does he call them all that? The endearment should have bugged the hell out of her, but oddly it didn’t. It sounded … nice.
Crap! I’m regressing back to the delusional part of the sickness.
As if he realized what he’d said and it bugged the hell out of him, Quinn vaulted off the bed and ran both hands through his hair. “I’m heading to the kitchen. Can I get you anything?”
“No. But how about you come back and watch American Ripper with me?” Shit, she sounded pathetic. Sick and pathetic. But as fascinating as the show was, it scared the stuffing out of her, and having Quinn there would make it less frightening. Go figure. Now she was turning the guy into a virtual knight in shining armor. Yeah, I’m sick all right.
“Maybe in a bit. I need to check on Mom and take care of a few things.” He was fidgety, twitchy as hell.
She tilted her head. “You’re always asking how I’m doing. How are you doing? Everything okay, big boy?”
His look verged on panicky. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know. You’re acting a little off.” Or maybe it’s that delusional thing I’ve got going on.
“Am I? Guess I need to spend some time in the gym.”
“You do that. And work out for me while you’re at it, okay?”
“Sure will. And Sarah?”
“Mmm?”
“If you see, or hear, anything weird—like someone working in the yard—you let me know, okay?”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Just … strange times right now.”
“’Kay.” She sank into the billowy pillows. Something niggled at her, but she was too tired to unravel it, and soon she was drifting into slumber again.
Rustling at the French doors woke her up. It was twilight, and her room was dark. She raised her head, but she was alone. No Quinn, no Archer. She glanced toward the uncovered glass doors but saw nothing beyond. Probably just her imagination.
She texted Quinn and got up to take a shower, overjoyed that she had the energy to get her herself shampooed and washed. When she stepped out of the bathroom, Quinn was lounging on the other side of her bed, hands laced behind his head as though he belonged there. A vague recollection of him doing that the last few days hovered like a mist.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted.
“Your text said you heard a noise, and I
