“That bad?” Hazel eyes searched his.
“Dad’s back, and now we’re all supposed to come together in some big kumbaya moment. I’m having a hard time swallowing it. Besides, Ronan’s a tool. I have no use for him.” A twinge of guilt flared as he recalled his mother’s stricken look when he’d told her he wanted no part of their get-together.
Sarah kissed his chin. “I get that. Your dad invited me, you know.”
This caught him off guard. “Really? Are you going?”
“Yeah, I think I will. I’m curious about this pain-in-the-ass brother of yours. But it’ll be really weird if you’re not there.”
He threw his head back. “Fuck me!”
“I’d like to.”
He leveled his gaze at her, trying not to laugh and trying to ignore the twitch in his shorts. His mind leapt to—and immediately backpedaled from—dragging her into the truck’s backseat and fogging up the windows. Maybe a pantry? A laundry room? “Did they send you out here to coerce me? Sex with you, by the way, is an awesome form of coercion. For the record.”
She giggled. “I’ll remember that.”
“Good.” He touched the tip of her nose.
Thoughts ricocheted in his head as he regarded her. Maybe he could tolerate family time if she were part of it. She’d be his backup, his defense. He’d certainly score points with his mom—and his dad, which shouldn’t have mattered, but somehow was starting to.
While he’d bristled earlier when his dad had appeared in the driveway, arms crossed—watching with what Quinn assumed was a critical eye—Quinn had relaxed when he’d realized his dad wasn’t going to tell him what to do and how to do it. Instead, to his utter surprise, his dad had done nothing but compliment his play and his shot, citing one highlight-reel goal after another. Even Quinn hadn’t remembered the ones his dad described in minute detail. Apparently, Dad had been paying attention.
“Good thing I wasn’t your coach,” his dad had joked. “I’d have probably ruined you. You have an innate talent, and you had the right coaches at the right time. I’ve noticed a lot of your goals come off that wicked wrist shot of yours. It’s precise, and it’s deadly. A thing of beauty. Your timing, the way you transfer your weight back to front, the flex in your stick … No wonder goalies can’t stop you. I’m proud of you, son.” The last bit his dad had said so softly Quinn wasn’t sure he’d heard him right.
Sarah’s voice brought him back to the here and now. “It doesn’t bother you that I’m curious about your brother, does it?”
Quinn grunted. “As long as you limit it to curiosity.”
She answered with an eye-roll.
Hours later, Quinn found himself at the dining table in front of a laptop, sipping a beer. He and Sarah flanked his mom and dad, and Archer sprawled at their feet. Ronan and Jen anchored the screen while a niece or nephew bobbed into view from time to time, interrupting in their munchkin voices. The conversation revolved around his brother and his family—with the occasional detour to Mom’s rehab with Sarah or Dad’s stint in Poland. This suited Quinn fine. Less attention for him to devote, less for him to say.
When the conversation wound up, Ronan declared he wanted to “catch up” with his little brother for a few minutes, so Quinn took the laptop to his office, where he began tossing a trio of beanbags.
“’Sup, Ro?”
Ronan smirked. “Sounds like you have your hands full.”
Quinn wouldn’t allow his brother to goad him into admitting anything he took on wasn’t a cakewalk—especially now that he had a better grasp of where Ronan was coming from. “Not sure why you say that. You saw for yourself it’s all good here. Mom continues to improve, thanks to the regimen Sarah put her on.” He added an extra dose of smug to his tone. “Mom’s been getting around like a champ on her own two feet. She hasn’t used the wheelchair in months.” Unlike when she was with you, dickwad.
Had Ronan ever thoughtto work with their mom to increase her mobility? No. He was too damn selfish.
Before he could get carried away, Quinn’s logical self reminded him he hadn’t thought how best to help his mom either—except to hire caregivers. His mom had been right about his previous picks. Glorified babysitters. She’d made little progress until Sarah arrived. Could Quinn take some credit for hiring Sarah? No, dumbass. Mom picked her and nagged you until you hired her.
His mind meandered to how different life would be without Sarah. Yeah, that had worked out well for his mom and for him.
Ronan’s scoff yanked Quinn’s attention back to the screen. “The timing was lucky, that’s all. Mom would’ve gotten there had she stayed with us.”
Ronan was doing it again, pushing Quinn’s buttons, but surprisingly the buttons weren’t engaging. “Sarah’s the one who came up with the program. All on her own.”
“You’ve got a thing for this girl, don’t you?” Ronan’s chuckle held an evil note. “Can’t say as I blame you, though. The girl’s smokin’. You tappin’ that yet?”
Quinn sipped his beer. “I always forget just what a prize fuckwad you are. Sarah’s here because she works for Mom.”
“You’ve always been an idiot, Quinn, but you’re an even bigger idiot than I figured you for. She’s there. She’s convenient. She’s hot as hell. You’re not going to be getting it anywhere else. If I were you, I’d be all over that.”
“Yeah, you totally would.”
“What’s the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
Quinn pulled in a breath and lined up his thoughts. “It means even though you’re married to a hottie of your own, you still have to screw everything that moves. Why is that?”
Ronan cackled. “Well, well, Mr. High and Mighty himself, ladies and gents.” Now his voice took on a snarling quality. “My relationship with Jen is none of your fucking business. It never has
