“He’s a ladies’ man who reminds me of someone I don’t like.” Shit! My kick-ass self has devolved into a whiny teenager.
Gage side-eyed her. “Quinn may have a reputation as a fuckboy, but he’s a good guy.”
“What you perceive as a good guy and what a woman perceives as a fuckboy are parts of the same man that are in two entirely different universes.”
His brows puckered. “I have no idea what you just said.”
Neither did she, which pissed her off. She was speaking in tongues she couldn’t understand. Get a grip. Somehow she couldn’t. “He’s full of himself. Just look at his flow.”
“You’re judging the guy by his hair?”
“It’s just part of the same deliberate package.” She flung her hand out. “Everything he does—the easy lines, the two-day stubble, the ridiculous dimples—is contrived. It’s so he can schmooze women into bed.”
Gage blew out a breath as he took an exit. He rolled to a stop at a red light and turned toward her. “We’re getting sidetracked. Quinn isn’t the reason you’re here, so let me ask my question a different way. What’s really eating you? And don’t give me any lame excuses or Mom-like dodges.”
Her brother was absolutely right. She wasn’t mad at Quinn. Frankly, she couldn’t have cared less what the guy was into. If anything about Quinn made her mad, it was what he represented. He was the poster boy for the type of guy she told herself she’d never fall for. Spending time around Gage’s hockey buddies had taught her what sort of man to steer clear of, yet somehow she’d let herself be hoodwinked by the humdinger daddy of them all, with a tongue made of solid sterling. Not only had she parked her brain, but she’d unlocked her judiciously guarded vault and thrown it wide-open for him. Then she’d handed him the key and watched him bash her heart in with it.
She’d always thought herself too sharp and independent to give up control to a man. The takeover had been incremental, but why hadn’t she seen it before it was too late? Mom and Grandma had raised her to be smarter than that. And for a while, she’d nailed it. A rising star who was always professional, always put together. With double engineering degrees, she was a Spanish-speaking consultant brought into prestigious resort projects in Mexico, earning her more feathers in her already crowded cap. She’d wowed them all—herself too. Where was all that confidence now?
Gage’s voice startled her back to the interior of his car. “I’m waiting.” He said it in a Princess Bride Vizzini voice, and she let out a chuckle.
Before she could formulate her careful answer, they glided to a stop in front of Lily’s house. “We’re home,” said Captain Obvious. “Looks like she’s not back yet. And, Sar? We really are happy to have you here.”
The way he said it made tears suddenly surge, and she swallowed them down. Kick-ass women do not cry. Clearing her throat, she willed the kick-ass girl to come through in her voice, and not the wimp who’d taken up space in her psyche. “It’s oddly nice to hear you say ‘we,’ Bro.” He’d always flown solo, like her—until recently. And irony of ironies, until four days ago she’d been part of a “we” he knew nothing about. Funny how quickly your life could transform from idyllic to total shit.
Gage headed up the walkway, and she led Archer out of the Range Rover. “And while I appreciate your hospitality, I still have to find another place so you have some breathing room. I’ve gotta say I never thought I’d see the day you’d go back to living in a cramped house with multiple females.”
A goofy grin sprouted on his face. “Some things are totally worth it.” He opened the front door and held it for her and Archer. “You’re doing an awesome imitation of Mom by avoiding an obviously unpleasant subject, by the way. But you’ll need a little more practice to be as evasive as she is.” He chuckled, completely oblivious to how deeply the comment cut, and a frightening thought slammed into her like a fully loaded freight train. “I haven’t told Mom. You didn’t say anything, did you?”
His keys landed with a clink in a bowl on a side table. “Absolutely not. Bro code.”
She heaved a sigh of relief. Yeah, she’d always been able to count on him to keep her secrets and mistakes to himself—not that she’d let him see many of the latter. Worse, the doozy she was currently fighting to forget outweighed all her other blunders combined.
Gage started rifling the fridge. “Something to drink?”
She shot him a backward glance as she let Archer into the backyard. “Got any bourbon and Coke?”
“That bad?” He hauled down two glasses and a bottle of Blanton’s. He poured the tawny liquid into the glasses, doctoring one with ice and Coke before handing it to her. He pointed at the kitchen table. “Sit.”
Moment of truth. Maybe he’d be satisfied with the incomplete version of the story. Yeah, she’d go with that. He sat, and she plopped her butt into a wooden chair and took a deep breath. “First I need to back all the way up and tell you the real reason I moved to Seattle.”
“It wasn’t for the structural engineering job?”
“Yes. No. That was part of it. It was also for a man. Named Wolf.” Damn it! She practically flinched from saying it aloud. Not only had she been bricks shy of a full load to uproot herself for him, but the precious job was one he’d arranged for her—after grooming her for it, so he’d said. All without her knowledge. She tried to convince herself she could have landed it on her own, but the notion was hard to swallow.
Though his eyebrows climbed his forehead—the only note of surprise in his expression—Gage remained quiet and sipped his bourbon.
“I first met him in the Bay Area. He’s an architect
