“What time will you be home?” He sounded like his mother.
Sarah narrowed her sexy-as-fuck eyes at him. “What’s it to you?”
He mustered all the nonchalance in his arsenal, barely keeping his voice in neutral. “Things are a little crazy in the world right now, Sunshine, and I want to be sure I know what to expect in case … Well, I just want to know when to start worrying if you don’t come home.”
Now her sexy-as-fuck eyes widened. “Oh my God! Now you sound like my mother.”
I know. But he wasn’t about to back off.“So? When do you think?”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” she grumbled. Her eyes slid to the ceiling, and she seemed to count off. “Eleven? Midnight? I guess it depends on what we do after dinner.”
WTF? A flare ignited in his stomach. “What do you mean, ‘what we do after dinner’?”
“Like if we play a game or watch a movie or … whatever. Do you want me to text you when I’m on my way home so you know I haven’t been captured by aliens or slave traffickers?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Okay, Sparks. You got it. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She bent down to rub Archer’s head and cooed, “You take care of Sparky, okay? He looks like he’s about to detonate.” As she leaned over, Quinn caught a flash of creamy flesh being held in place by a black bra. Yeah, he was about to detonate all right.
After she’d left, he couldn’t scrub the image from his brain. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be giving Drew the same view when she bent over to pet T.J. and Natalie’s dogs, which brought to mind her bending over for Drew in an entirely different way. His heart rate skyrocketed.
He paced, thoughts and emotions colliding and wreaking havoc inside him. He waited all of about half an hour after she’d left before he texted her. Did you get there OK?
When she didn’t answer right away, he texted T.J. Sarah get there OK?
T.J.: Yep.
Quinn: So what are you guys doing?
T.J.: Talking. Chilling. Drinking beer. The orgy hasn’t started yet.
Quinn resisted the urge to tell T.J. what he could do with himself. Instead, he typed: Gage wanted me to keep an eye on her since he’s in the mountains.
T.J.: She’s in good hands tonight.
Quinn chuffed, looked at his phone wondering whose hands, set the device down, picked it up, chuffed some more. Are you still pissed at me?
T.J.: About what?
Quinn: Press conference?
T.J.: WTF?
Quinn: Sorry, man. Thought you were still mad.
T.J.: No, but if you apologize for that little stunt one more time, I will be pissed. Same goes if you keep texting me. I want to enjoy myself tonight. Later.
Quinn let out a growl of frustration. Maybe he should drive over—
“Quinn?”
His mother’s voice startled him. She was leaning against a wall, giving him a tentative look. “Everything okay, son?”
A long, slow breath deflated him. “Yep. All good, Sassy. Ready for me to make you some dinner? A cup of tea?”
Her face lit. “And play Parcheesi?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, but you’d better not cheat.”
“I never cheat.”
“Pretty sure you do.”
“Quinn Anthony Hadley, I swear, if I could put you over my knee …”
“No swearing, Momster.” Without thinking, without knowing what he was doing, he walked toward her and pulled her into a hug. She sighed against him, and his arms wrapped around her frail frame. As natural as you please. Like they’d been doing this forever.
She disentangled herself and, with a tender smile, ran her slim fingers through the hair hanging in his face. As she pushed it back, her light blue eyes sparkled. “She’s just out to have some fun. We’re all a bit frayed around the edges right now, and it’ll be good for her. And you.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” He didn’t want to delve into understanding what his mother was implying, and it seemed easier to play along. He ran his hand over the shaggy hair at the back of his head.
Her eyes darted there. “I can give you a trim, if you like.”
The floppy strands had been driving him crazy. No visits to the hairdresser’s meant they’d gotten long and unruly. “Actually, yeah, that’d be nice.”
They gathered up what she needed, and he obediently took a seat on a stool in his bathroom. Like old times.
“How short?” she asked.
He stared at himself in the mirror, and for some reason the word “junior” played tricks in his mind. “I’m ready to ditch the flow, Mom.”
Her eyes widened. “You sure?”
“I’ve been wearing it this way to impress the ladies, which suddenly seems like a really stupid reason, especially since it’s a royal pain in my a—rear.” He nodded at her in the mirror. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”
“Okay, son,” she giggled. “No more lettuce for you.”
He winced with the first few snips, watching each strand float to the floor, but then he relaxed. He was a little kid again, and he reveled in the feel of her fingers working over his scalp. “You like your blue hair, Mom?”
She paused to check herself in the mirror. “Yes. It’s fun. Like Sarah. She’s fun. I like having her around. How about you?”
Confusion swirled inside him. Did he like having Sarah around? She made him crazy in so many ways—some good, some not. He merely hmphed in response.
After several beats, his mother said, “You two remind me of your father and me.”
The scissors nearly flew from her hands when he swiveled his head to look at her. Somehow he managed to avoid getting his eye poked out. “What does that mean?”
“Trying to out-challenge each other. It was the same for your dad and me. Never knew a man who could push my buttons so easily. I loved it.”
“So why aren’t you together anymore?”
Her eyes stayed focused on her work. “We’re just taking a very long break.” A wistful smile curved her lips. “But oh, I miss the teasing! He gave as good as
