The Winning Score: A best-friend's-sister, enemies-to-lovers sports romance (The Playmakers Series Hockey Romance Book 4)

by G. K. Brady

  “Me too.” All his mom’s attention was focused on Archer, and Quinn felt himself sag with relief. If this could work out, he’d find a way to put up with Sarah Sunshine’s snark. It might take barricading himself in his room, the gym, or the in-home theater, but he’d figure it out.

  “Let me show you your room,” he invited. They left Archer behind with his mom, and as they walked he pointed out this and that. “Feel free to go wherever and use whatever.”

  “What’s down that way?” Sarah indicated a hall with the rooms he never used—except the one time.

  “Oh. Anywhere but there. Those are the forbidden rooms,” he joked with an evil bwahaha.

  “Got it. So the rooms equipped with the dance poles and BDSM gear?”

  He gave her a smirk. “Not a bad idea. Think Amazon ships trapezes, poles, and those neon light-up dancing platforms strippers use?”

  “You wish,” she scoffed. “Come to think of it, they probably do. Did you know that since they’ve had to shut down for the pandemic, some strip clubs have put in drive-throughs?”

  “I have no idea what that would look like, but strip clubs aren’t my thing. And wow, aren’t you a wealth of information? Were you doing job research?”

  She shrugged him off with a cold shoulder. In front of a large door at the end of a wide hallway, he came to a stop. She’d halted beside him, and he had to lean past her to grasp the door handle. She hopped backward as if she didn’t want any part of him touching any part of her. Fine by him, though he couldn’t avoid the sweet vanilla-flowery scent that wreathed her. Shit, that smelled good. Not what he’d expected from her, though he couldn’t say what he should have expected. The scent of burnt rubber? Motor oil?

  “This is your room,” he announced as he threw the door open. She gave a little gasp and covered her mouth with both hands. He couldn’t have cared less about impressing her, but he wanted her to be comfortable, and her reaction gave him an unexpected surge of gratification.

  “Oh wow!” Her eyes were wide as pucks, and she seemed to hesitate on the threshold.

  He tried not to laugh at Miss Badass looking bowled over. Stepping into the room, he urged her in. “I picked this room because it has access to the backyard. I figured it would be easier to let Archer in and out.”

  She gingerly moved into the space, taking it in with owl eyes.

  “If you don’t like it,” he continued, “there are plenty more rooms to choose from. But this is one of the biggest, it’s close to my mom, and it should accommodate all your girlie stuff.”

  I can’t imagine having enough girlie stuff to fill a tenth of this suite, Sarah thought to herself as she gaped. She didn’t care that Quinn was smirking at her. The room was beautiful! Soaring ceiling, a marble fireplace, a towering bay window with a table and armchairs, and French doors that opened onto a private deck. It was decorated in heavy, dark furniture and rich golds and reds—not exactly her style, but it imbued the room with luxury and comfort. Definitely an upgrade from Daisy’s pink room.

  Quinn was in the bathroom now, which was on the other side of the fireplace, going on about a steam shower, jetted tub, towel warmers, blah, blah, blah. Sarah’s head reeled. When she peeked in, all she could think was that the bathroom resembled a spa and was bigger than the two bathrooms in her childhood home combined.

  “No shortage of space, is there? Hope I don’t get lost,” she said, cutting the “Wow!” from her tone.

  A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “I’ll leave you a rope so you can find your way back out. Oh. And a little tip? Watch your language around my mom, or you’ll be stuffing all those strategically placed money jars.”

  “Thanks, Sparky. I’ll keep it in mind.” Now all she wanted was for him to get out so she could explore her new digs alone. As if he’d read her mind, he excused himself and left.

  “Wow! A girl could get used to this,” she muttered to herself. Why didn’t Quinn like this place? Oh, right. It had to be the antithesis to the swinging bachelor penthouse he’d been so fond of. “Bet that place has the stripper poles,” she giggled to herself.

  After fetching Archer, Sarah unpacked. Sadly, it took all of ten minutes, with her filling only one miniscule portion of the room’s available storage space. Liz stopped by to check on her and let her know she was going to lie down, and Sarah found herself with some time to burn. She changed into workout togs and jogged to the kitchen—getting lost twice—but it was deserted. Perfect. She’d been hoping to avoid Quinn.

  Plugging in her earbuds, she found the way to the walkout basement fitness center he’d shown her—it was bigger than any gym she’d ever joined—and marched past the racquetball court into the weight room, where she pulled up short. Facing away from her, poised in front of a wall of glass that looked out on the swimming pool, Quinn was doing bicep curls with big-ass free weights. He didn’t break stride, and she soon figured out why. He too was sporting earbuds and was obviously in a zone.

  Despite the voice in her head telling her not to, she ran her eyes over him as he pumped iron in a baggy tank that revealed more than it hid and gym shorts that moved with him, highlighting a well-formed ass. Up and down, he alternated arms, slowly curling first one then the other. Her gaze paused and lingered on his flexing, sweat-sheened biceps. What could it hurt? He might be a twit of epic proportion, but he was a fine specimen of a twit, and she was simply … evaluating his … form. And what a nice form it was too. Different from Wolf’s leaner body, yet no less beautiful, in a masculine sort of way.

  “See something you want, toots?”

  She jerked, instantly admonishing her body for betraying her surprise. Shit, shit, shit! Worse than showing her shock, though, was the fact she’d been caught watching him in the first place. Now he’d get the wrong idea, fanning the flames of his out-of-control ego even higher. How had he known she was standing there anyway? He deposited one of the weights on a rack, plucked out an earbud, and turned. His chest was heaving. A cocky smile was plastered all over his face, and out popped those damn dimples. As if he read her mind—again—he pointed to the windows. “Saw your reflection when you came in.”

  “Then why didn’t you say something?” Her inner petulant child shot through her tone, giving her away. On the defensive, she cinched her arms over her chest.

  One corner of his mouth hitched up even higher. “Looked like you were enjoying the show. I didn’t want to spoil it for you.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s—” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Yeah, and now she was broadcasting that he’d gotten to her. He knew it too because he laughed. Damn him. Maybe she should leave.

  “I’m glad you’re going to use the equipment,” he said cheerfully. “It’s top of the line but hasn’t been put through its paces.”

  “Didn’t you get in a workout this morning?” she grumbled.

  “Strictly cardio. Thought I’d break it up since I’ve got the whole damn day.”

  “I’ll come back.”

  “Don’t leave on my account, Sunshine. In fact, I could use a spotter. You willing?”

  When she didn’t move, he added, “It’s either you or my mom.”

  Oh hell no. “You make your mom spot you?”

  “Not yet, though desperate times and all.”

  “All right. Jeez.” She pushed herself into the room. “Where do you want me?” Fuck. Did I just say that?

  He arched an eyebrow at her, and a predatory gleam lit his eyes. Yeah, no way was a guy like him going to miss the softball she’d just pitched. Mercifully, he didn’t say anything. She really didn’t want to clock her employer on her first day of work. Even if that employer was Quinn “Asshat” Hadley.

  He walked over to the bench and started adding weights on either end of the bar while he hummed. In between the clink-clunk of the disks slipping into position, she said, “You should get Gage over here to work out with you. They shut down the team facility and his favorite gym, and he’s got nowhere to go. I’m not sure Lily’s gonna let him do c
hin-ups in the bedroom doorway for hours on end.”

  Quinn flicked his eyes her way before returning his attention to what he was doing. “I’ll give him a call.” He swung one long, thick leg over the bench and lay back, wiggling his big body into position. His hands wrapped around the bar. “Ready, toots?”

  She shuffled to the head of the bench, not daring to get too close to all that thick hair. His eyes slid from the bar to her. They were a deep, rich chocolate color that matched his dark eyebrows.

  “Move a little closer, toots. I don’t bite. Unless you ask nicely.”

  That did it. Snapped her right out of her stupid zone. She gave him a snort and placed her hands below the bar as he lifted and cleared the stand with a grunt. A deep pull of air in, and he pushed it out and extended his arms to their full length. Muscles in his arms, chest, and shoulders were taut under smooth skin. Another whoosh of breath, and he began to lower the bar slowly. Now the show was full on, his muscles rippling and flexing as they strained. Corded veins grew more defined along his powerful forearms. Even his enormous quads were working as he dug his feet into the floor.

  Sarah tore her eyes from Quinn’s various body parts and helped him guide the bar onto the stand. God, she’d always loved the look of a fit hockey player’s physique. Too bad their annoying personalities couldn’t be separated from their bodies.

  After a few sets, he sat up and gave her a nod. “Thanks. Wanna give it a go?”

  She waved her hand. “No, thanks. I’m more of a runner.”

  His eyes swept her from head to toe. “Yeah, I can see that.”

  The look was all business, no heat, yet she felt completely undressed in front of him. “I’ll just …” She pointed toward one of the treadmills.

  “All yours. Thanks for your help.” He stood and yanked off his shirt, rubbing it over his slick skin before draping it around his neck. God help her, her eyes dropped to his well-cut abs and drifted to his solid obliques, visible above the waistband of his shorts that had slipped below his flat navel. Was the man commando? She darted her eyes away before he could catch her surveying him and misinterpret her examination for something it wasn’t. The mystery of his underwear would be put aside for now. No, forever.

  Her focus didn’t sharpen on what she was supposed to be doing until he left. Trying not to consider how ridiculous she was, she instead formulated how she could time her gym visits so she wasn’t sharing the space with him. Except he needed her help with the bench press. Wait. This wasn’t her dilemma because that would mean she gave a rat’s ass about him, which she most certainly did not.

  Chapter 10

  Let’s Flamingle

  Quinn ordered Chinese delivery for Sarah’s first dinner to make it easy on everyone. She jumped right in, making herself comfortable in the kitchen as she found and laid out plates, napkins, silverware. She even found chopsticks and opened a few beers. Like she belonged there. In order to keep his borderline aggravation under control, he reminded himself she was supposed to act like she belonged there.

  As she buzzed around the table, she kept commenting on how good everything smelled. He got the idea it was more for his mom’s benefit than her own because honestly, girl looked like she could stand a few extra pounds. Nelson had mentioned something about her having a hard time in Seattle, and maybe that was the reason she was on the skinny side. Wonder what happened? She’d changed from her workout clothes and apparently showered because her hair was still damp. Tonight’s T-shirt was turquoise, and bright pink flamingos adorned it. The saying read, “Let’s Flamingle.” Christ. Maybe she owned a T-shirt shop that had gone belly up?

  They sat down to eat, and she surprised them when she popped out of her seat. She reminded him of a jumping bean. “Shit! I forgot the soy sauce.”

  His mom fixed an amused eye on Sarah Sunshine. “Did Quinn tell you about the swear jar?”

  In a cosmic, comical spectacle, Sarah froze and gave Quinn wide eyes. “Told you,” he mouthed at her before settling into a smug smile.

  She straightened the hem of her T-shirt and faced his mom. “Um, how much do I owe?”

  His mom giggled. Actually giggled. Then waved her off. “Nothing this time.”

  “What?” He let his outrage come through. “How come she gets a pass?”

  Pointing a chopstick at him, his mother said, “Quinnie. I give you all sorts of passes all day long. You just don’t know it. This is Sarah’s first day, so she gets a pass too.” She gave Sarah a Cheshire-cat grin and bobbed her head as if to punctuate her edict.

  Sarah bit her bottom lip. The corners of her mouth tipped up, and her hazel eyes brightened. Shit, that was kinda cute. Wait! Poison ivy is not cute, and neither is Sarah Nelson. He shoveled in a mouthful of food and mumbled PG curses while he chewed.

  Dinner conversation was animated, all over the map, and his mother participated fully, to his delight and frustration. They barely talked at the table when it was just the two of them, with him forever stretching across awkward silences for some commonality, something they were both interested in that would catch a conversation on fire. Fortunately, he’d been on the road a lot, so it hadn’t been an everyday issue, but when he’d been home, he’d taken to eating in front of the TV to avoid the discomfort. But tonight—this … wasn’t so bad.

  As Sarah served her a second helping—how the hell did she get Mom to eat that much?—his mother peered at her. “How do I get pink hair?”

  Quinn nearly dropped the beer bottle he’d tipped to his lips. Sarah clapped her hands, reminding him of a little kid. More cute behavior that caught him off guard. Thank God he wasn’t into cute. Hot, dirty, sexy as fuck. That’s what he was into, and Sarah was none of those. Not that he’d ever look at her that way anyway. A picture of a pissed-off brother loomed in his imagination.

  “I don’t know if you color your hair,” Sarah spurted, “but I picked up supplies in case.”

  His mother’s eyes danced. “How fun! What about the pink? I like what you have.”

  Sarah flipped a hank of her own hair and craned her head to inspect it. “The pink’s not holding up as well as I thought. I do have a cool teal we could use on you. Or we can order something off of Amazon.”

  Quinn watched in stunned fascination as they chitchatted about hair dye and girlie shit. He never even knew his mom colored her hair. Didn’t know his mom was into girlie shit. Why hadn’t that occurred to him before? He couldn’t say taking a trip to Girl Twilight Zone was unpleasant, though. Just weird.

  “Are you going to finish your meal?” he asked Sarah when they were finishing up. She’d had maybe half a plate, and her portion hadn’t been big to begin with.

  Without looking up, she flapped her hand at him. “No, you can have it.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I just thought … Aren’t you hungry?” Aw, crap. Maybe she doesn’t like what I ordered. Except he’d ordered just about everything on the menu. Was she a picky eater? Probably. It would go along with her pain-in-the-ass persona.

  She gave him a shrug. “I had plenty. I’ll get the dishes.”

  “Um, no.”

  He was hyperaware of his mother’s bemused gaze bouncing between them.

  Sarah stood and began collecting plates. “I got this. I have to get used to your kitchen anyway.”

  “But I didn’t hire you to cook or be a maid.”

  “Chillax, Sparky. It’s what I usually do. No special treatment for you.”

  “Sparky!” his mother howled. “Oh, that’s priceless!”

  Sarah grinned at her in response.

  Annoyance spiked, but the phone on the counter vibrated, and he rose to check caller ID. A split second later, the phone in his pocket went off, and he pulled it out. Sarah arched an eyebrow at him as he stood there, a phone in each hand, looking from one device to the other. He chugged into a different part of the house before answering the first phone. The second one he ignored.

  “Hey, Nelsy. What’s up?”

  “Just wonder
ing if you and my sister had killed each other yet.”

  Quinn let out a mirthless laugh. “No, but there’s still plenty of time.”

  “Sarah can be a little … intense, but she’s good people.”

  Intense. Yeah, Quinn would go with that. It was more PC than any of his descriptions. “So she mentioned you don’t have a way to work out. Why don’t you come over tomorrow and help yourself to the equipment here? This house came with a full gym that’s a fitness nut’s wet dream.”

  “Can’t. Team says no mingling. At all. Which is the other reason for my call.”

  “Yeah?” Quinn plopped on a formal couch in a formal room he’d never used and tossed a formal pillow into the air. He caught it and tossed it again.

  “Heard from anyone on the team?”

  Another catch and toss. “You’re the first since our fun times at the press conference. No one else is talking to me.” Yeah, he’d been a dumbass, but cut a guy some slack. “What’s going on?”

  Nelson blew out a breath on the other end. Uh-oh. “So one of the trainers is sick, and they’re testing him for COVID-19. On top of that, that dick of a reporter’s whining that he’s sick too, so the team’s paying to test him.”

  Quinn let the pillow fall to his feet. “You’re shitting me.”

  “Wish I were. It’ll take a few days to get the results. I wanted to give you the heads-up so you can lay low. People are still worked up over the press conference.”

  “You’re not, though, are you?” In that moment, Quinn needed to know he and Nelson were okay because neither Shanstrom nor Grimson were talking to him, though he’d tried apologizing by phone, by text. Multiple times. With barely a response, which bothered the shit out of him.

  “Nah, we’re good. Don’t get me wrong. That was a really stupid move on your part, but I know where you were coming from. You’re not out to hurt anybody, but a little more impulse control on your part would’ve gone a long way. Feel me?”