Sarah stole a glance at Quinn, who surveyed her over the rim of his coffee cup as he took a sip. His dark brows were knotted together. Not so sure Sparky missed me. He looks like he wants to choke me out. What happened to that really sweet guy? She smoothed her T-shirt that read, “Zombies Eat Brains … Don’t Worry, You’re Safe.” The shirt had been too tight to wear before, but apparently she’d dropped some weight because it fit snugly over her long-sleeved tee.
When she lifted her head, she caught Quinn reading the slogan—and looking rather embarrassed about it, judging from his bright burgundy cheekbones. “Nice T-shirt,” he rasped.
“Thanks.”
He cleared his throat. “So. We’re glad you’re feeling better, but until you’re symptom-free for two weeks, you have to stay in—”
“I figured as mu—”
“And you have to socially distance from Mom.” He tilted his head toward Liz.
Her heart sank. “How am I supposed to do my job?”
“You’re not. She and I have this.”
Dread bloomed in Sarah’s chest. “Oh. So I guess you won’t be needing me anymore?”
Liz and Quinn glanced at each other, then both spluttered at once. They were so emphatic Sarah couldn’t understand either one, but it gave her a lift. Quinn took the lead. “No. I mean yes, absolutely, we—Mom needs you. I’m the temporary replacement, and I’m pretty sure she’ll be glad to have you back.” Liz nodded. He broke out in a deep-dimpled smile that instantly put Sarah at ease. Honestly, she’d missed that smile. God, what a sap! “Another One Bites the Dust” blared in her brain. One more woman blinded by Quinn Hadley’s brilliant smile.
“And,” Liz added, “you’re still on the payroll.” She slid her eyes to Quinn, who turned slowly, deliberately, and gave her a frown that might have looked real if not for one corner of his mouth twitching. Liz shot back a twinkly smile.
He rolled his eyes dramatically and refocused on Sarah. “What she said.”
“No, I couldn’t! I’m not doing anything except sucking up your food and—”
“Sunshine, you’ve barely sucked anything.” Something flashed in his eyes, and his cheekbones flushed a deeper shade, if that were possible.
Uncomfortable—for so many reasons—Sarah shifted her weight. “I have a hard time accepting, um, other people’s kindness”—and letting them pay me for doing squat—“but I want to thank you both … so much for looking out for me.”
“Don’t look at me.” Liz jabbed her pointer finger at Quinn. “Sparky here is the one who took care of you—and me. And he might’ve been more protective of you than Archer.”
Archer’s ears perked up at the mention of his name, and he trotted back to Liz and parked his fuzzy butt beside her.
Sarah was overcome with a weird shyness, and she cast her gaze to the countertop. “Well, thank you.”
“I guess now’s the time for me to announce my apology to the world,” Quinn rumbled.
Sarah raised her head. “Apology for what?”
“For making light of the virus. I had no idea … You were so sick. And Mom could have come down with it. Thank God she didn’t.”
Behind his back, Liz mouthed, “He was very worried.”
“Anyway, I’m glad you’re back. You’ll have to take it easy because I’ve been reading about people who think they’re better but it doubles back on them, and voila, they’re sick again.”
Sarah snickered. “Showing off your command of the French language again?”
He stared at her for a few beats, then broke out in a grin. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I missed your witty repartee, Sunshine.”
“I think I missed fencing with you too, Sparky.”
Judging by the heat blazing up her neck and over her face, she was pretty sure she’d just gone an even darker shade than Quinn’s cheekbones. Meanwhile, Liz’s eyes bounced between them, and her smile widened with what could only be described as mischief.
Chapter 21
You Can Do That Virtually Too?
One week later, Sarah hummed along at nearly back-to-normal speed. Quinn still wouldn’t let her do anything beyond lifting a fork to feed herself, and he was positively militant about enforcing it, a polar opposite to his easier-going side. She found it sorta sexy in an alpha I’m-the-boss-of-you kind of way. Not usually a masculine style she cozied up to, but he had a way of getting behind her defenses. Probably those damn dimples.
Late afternoon one day, they were seated at opposite ends of the couch. She was on her laptop, and he’d commandeered the all-COVID-all-the-time TV from Liz while she soaked in the hot tub. Thank God! Sarah had had enough of COVID-19 to last a lifetime.
Quinn was currently engrossed in an episode of Engineering Disasters. “So what do you think, Sunshine? Did the engineer call out the wrong rebar?”
Sarah squinted at the screen. “Sorry. I tuned out the show.” She glanced between him and her computer screen several times. “How big are you?”
His head whipped toward her. “What, now?”
“How big are you?” she repeated.
A slow, sexy smile spread over his face. “Why don’t you slide on over here and find out?”
“Oh, for fuck’s—I’m talking about your height and weight. I already know about your …” Oh shit. Did I really almost just say that? By the look on his face, he was finding what she had to say way more interesting than the twisted metal carnage on TV.
“My what?”
She stared at her laptop, wondering if she could be absorbed into it. “Nothing.”
He shifted so that he faced her, and he leaned in, his voice low and melty and hypnotic. “What were you about to say?”
Eyes still glued to her computer, she blurted, “I heard some of your groupies talking about your … a certain part of your anatomy in the bathroom the night of the team dinner.”
In her peripheral vision, his spine went ramrod straight. “What?”
She flapped a dismissive hand at him. “Don’t worry. It was complimentary. Your ego would have inflated at least another two dress-shirt sizes.”
“What did these supposed groupies look like?”
She turned and
