by G. K. Brady
His hair tickled her chin, but trying to nudge him off her was as futile as trying to break free from a determined boa constrictor. He gripped her like his own personal body pillow.
What time is it?
A quick glance at a shuttered window brought a surprise. Was that daylight leaking through? Oh shit! Is Liz up? Where’s Archer?
As if in answer, a soft scratching sounded on Quinn’s door, followed by a whimper. Shoving at Quinn’s arm, she bucked in panic. He shifted with an “Mmph,” only to double down on his hold. She blew out an exasperated breath.
“Quinn!” she hissed. “Let me up!”
He rubbed his head against her chest as if he were trying to adjust said body pillow. Ooh, that feels kinda good. As she was admonishing herself for getting distracted, he raised his head, planted his chin, and gave her a sleepy smile. “You’re still here,” he mumbled. His hands began gliding up her sides, each one targeting a breast.
“Of course I am. Someone’s got his Death Star tractor beam locked on me, and I can’t escape.”
His eyes opened fully, and he slid off of her. “Shit. Sorry. My bad.”
A pang of remorse jabbed her. “It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s just that it’s morning, and Archer’s on the other side of the door trying to get in.”
Realization seemed to dawn, and his eyes grew wide. “Oh shit! Mom can’t be far behind.”
If last night had been all deep, velvet sensuality, this morning was its antithesis. Sarah scrambled from one side of the bed, Quinn mirroring her movements, and both of them frantically snatched at clothes, tossing them between each other in a scene straight out of an old slapstick movie.
“You stay here,” he whisper-shouted as he dragged on his boxers and a pair of jeans he pulled from his closet floor. “I’ll take care of Archer.” He began hopping in place to get his second leg in.
Panties on, she wrangled with the bra clasp at her back. She engaged one hook and called it good before pulling on her torn dress and getting it stuck on her head. Quinn was beside her, yanking the garment over her shoulders.
“Quinnie?” Liz’s voice floated from behind his door. “You awake, son?”
He and Sarah came to a grinding halt, exchanging round-eyed looks. “Oh shit!” they mouthed at the same time.
“Almost, Mom,” he called back.
Now came Liz’s muffled chuckle. “It’s nearly eight. I guess that’s why Archer’s trying to wake you up. I’m not sure where Sarah is, but I’ll go look for her.”
“Uh,” he yelled, “I think she was going for a run this morning. I’ll take care of him.”
“Odd that she’d run without him.”
He buttoned his jeans, grabbed a T-shirt from a dresser drawer, and winked at Sarah. “‘Odd’ sounds just like Sarah, Mom.”
Sarah returned her best glittering glare. He stepped over to her and planted a kiss on her mouth that fired up her insides and left her nearly speechless.
“I’ll make up an excuse and keep her distracted so you can get back to your room,” he whispered. “Then change your clothes and get your cute little ass to the kitchen. Act like you just finished a run or got out of bed. Piece of cake.”
She stifled a laugh. “Depends on whose cake!”
After dodging her way back to her room like a curfew-breaking teen trying not to get caught, Sarah took a quick shower. Much as she hated to wash away Quinn’s scent, she didn’t need Archer—or Liz—sniffing it off of her.
Rather than her usual ratty pair of sweats and a sloppy T-shirt, Sarah pulled on a pair of butt-hugging jeans, topped with a red tank that read, “Blink If You Want Me.”
Heart pounding relentlessly against her ribcage, she faked a casual air and sauntered into the kitchen, where Liz and Quinn huddled at the counter drinking coffee. Archer charged her and buried his nose in her crotch. So much for washing the scent off.
She moved the dog away. “Hey, now. Stop that.”
Quinn raised his head at the sound of her voice, scanned her T-shirt, and blinked. One corner of his mouth quirked, and he blinked rapidly so many times she lost count. A flush ignited on her chest and spread northward. Why hadn’t she thrown something on over the tank?
Liz turned slowly and smiled. “Well, there you are. I swear Archer was nearly frantic when I got up. I think he thought you were hiding in Quinn’s room because he insisted on going that way.” Liz seemed to realize what she’d implied—no doubt alerted by the deep pink staining Sarah’s exposed skin by now—and quickly pressed her lips together as though stifling a laugh.
Sarah ruffled Archer’s neck. “Crossed signals, I guess. I wasn’t hiding.” Not a lie, not a confession, but not much of an answer either. Hopefully, Liz didn’t notice. Meanwhile, Quinn’s eyebrows bounced with amusement.
Several awkward moments later, Sarah had settled down with a cup of coffee and was asking Liz when she wanted to hit the gym.
“Not today, doll. I think I’ll head back to my room for a while.”
Okaaaaay. Sarah’s nerves danced along a knife’s edge. Was Liz feeling all right? Did she know what had happened in Quinn’s bedroom? And did she disapprove? Maybe she’d been stifling a scolding instead of laughter.
“Are you feeling all right this morning, Liz?” Sarah ventured.
“Yes, of course.” Liz’s voice was high, tight, strained. “I just need some quiet time away from … Well, just some quiet time.”
After she’d left the kitchen, Sarah gaped at Quinn. “What’s going on with your mom?”
“No idea. She’s been acting sketchy since I got up.”
A renewed flush heated Sarah’s face. “Do you think she knows about last night?”
“I don’t see how she could.” He shrugged. “Although I wouldn’t put anything past her.”
Sarah suddenly felt small and cheap.
Quinn rose and rounded the counter, surrounding her in his strong arms as he came up behind her. He laid his cheek on her head. “I can guess what you’re thinking, and you’re reading it all wrong.”
She leaned against him, feeling snug and safe in his hold. “So Sparky’s a mind reader now?”
“You’re not as good at hiding stuff as you think you are.”
“And you’re an expert at reading women?”
He kissed the top of her head and gave her a little squeeze. “No, though I’d like to become an expert at reading you. How am I doing so far?”
A few simple words had her sighing and returning to an even plane. How did he do that? “Not too bad, but you’ve got a way to go.” Even I can’t read me sometimes.
He chuckled, his warm breath ruffling her hair. “Can’t wait for you to start teaching me.”
And there it was, that zing that hit her core and dissolved into a puddle of heat. Lord, how was she going to keep her hands off this man—and keep his mother from catching on?
All of Quinn wanted to haul Sarah back to his bedroom, and he busily tried on one excuse after another to get her there. You left something behind. We tore up the sheets, and I was hoping you’d help me make my bed. Have I shown you my shower? Nothing passed muster as plausible, so he went with honest, leaning down to nip her ear and whisper, “I didn’t get near enough of you last night. What do you say we duck back into my room?”
She craned her head and gave him an eye-roll so huge he thought her eyeballs might disappear in their sockets.
“Trying to read your signals, Sunshine. Is that a ‘Take me now, you hot stud,’ or an ‘I want you so bad, but later’? I couldn’t tell.”
Her shoulders started shuddering with laughter. “I gotta hand it to you, Sparky. You do see the beer bottle half-full.”
Before he could ask her what she meant, her phone buzzed. “It’s Gage.”
He stepped back so she could answer.
“Hey, Bro. What’s going on?” Her eyes slid to Quinn’s, a question mark flitting through them. His body tensed, primed to run interference for her.
A quick head
bob, and she said, “No, it’s gotten better. Either he’s not being such a pain in my ass or I’m getting used to him. He’s standing right here, by the way.”
Quinn’s muscles uncoiled a fraction, and to Sarah he mouthed, “Haha. Don’t tell your brother.”
She mouthed, “Don’t tell your mother,” right back at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Another head bob. “Sure. I can do that. How soon?” A pause. “You got it. How are Lily and Daisy?”
Quinn idly picked up coffee mugs while Sarah chatted with her brother. When she finally hung up, he turned and asked what Nelson wanted her to do.
“Their house has been empty the last six weeks, and he wants me to go check on it.” She shrugged.
Protectiveness surged inside him. Where it came from and why, he didn’t know. It was just there. “Let me know when you’re going, and I’ll go with you.”
She shook her head vigorously, and her hair shifted in glossy layers. A vision of her tossing her head side to side, moaning incoherently as she’d orgasmed underneath him last night rocketed straight to his crotch. His dick hadn’t exactly been asleep, but now it woke right the hell up, raring to go.
“No, you won’t,” she argued. “Someone needs to be here for your mom.”
Mom. Right. He sidled up to Sarah’s back once again and bent his head to kiss her shoulder, pulling her tank strap out of the way so he could kiss her there too, and moved slowly up her neck.
“Quinn, stop!” she hissed, but the giggle in her voice contradicted her words.
He didn’t stop. Instead, he kept kissing, adding soft sucks and nips as he went, and snaked his hands around to knead her breasts. “Whatever you say, Sunshine.”
She shoved at his arms. “Your mom might see us.”
“She might,” he mumbled against her earlobe right before licking the shell of her ear. “I’ll stop as soon as you say you’ll have dinner with me again tonight.”
“In the sunroom or your bedroom?” Her voice came out breathy.
Lick, nibble, fondle. “Well, we could start in the sunroom … or not.” Kiss, suck. He started grinding against her ass slowly, pausing when his phone buzzed. The name on caller ID surprised the hell out of him. “I should take this.”
She adjusted her tank, slid off the stool, and walked toward her room. A sigh escaped him as he watched her.
He answered the call. “Wyatt! Where you been, man?” Wyatt hadn’t acknowledged him since the press conference nearly two months ago. Yeah, this was a call he’d needed to accept.
“’Sup, Hads?” Not the most enthusiastic of greetings, but Quinn would take it.
They shot the breeze for a few minutes, discussing when the NHL might start back up, what they were doing to keep in shape, and how glad they were they’d been paid out their salaries for the season, though it sucked that they’d miss out on the revenues the league normally generated.
“So you know that blond you were seeing the night of the dinner?” Wyatt said when they’d run through the regular bullshit.
“Which one?” Quinn quipped—out of habit—then looked around, feeling guilty as hell. What if Sarah had heard him? Not cool.
“The hot one. Dory.”
Quinn’s wacko antenna shot up and began a sweep of the area. “What about her? We’re not seeing each other.”
“I know. That’s why I’m calling. I, uh, sorta, um, I started hanging out with her. Is that cool with you?”
Quinn’s first reaction was, “Take her! Please!” but he held it back. “Yeah, no problem.” Then he leapt to how the hell Wyatt knew Dory. He almost laughed out loud. She’d probably slipped her number to every guy on the team. For a puck bunny, sleeping with a player was about the conquest. Bragging rights. He pictured them swapping score cards and stories over pink cocktails, and it soured his stomach. Why had this never bothered him before now? Because he hadn’t given a fuck, but Sarah changed all that.
Should he warn his buddy that Dory was a potential nutjob? Maybe Quinn had blown it out of proportion. Besides, Wyatt was no stranger to crazy chicks. “How’d you two meet anyway?”
More hemming and hawing from the other end, then Wyatt broke out in his nervous giggle-laugh. “Uh, I ran into her at the same place the night after the dinner.”
“Have you been seeing her since?”
“Uh, not really. Until a few days ago. I ran into her again at the grocery store in Breckenridge, and we, uh, spent some time at my place in the mountains.”
Wait. “What?”
Wyatt started backpedaling, tossing out excuses like strip joint patrons threw out money. “Well, we might have started seeing each other a little sooner, but she said it’d be cool with you. It is, isn’t it?”
Quinn’s mind began calculating. “So you and she weren’t in town a few nights ago?”
“No, man. We just got back yesterday.” Wyatt sounded as confused as Jake from the State Farm commercial.
Could Dory have left Wyatt’s place, driven to Quinn’s to lob a rock through his window, then driven back? Quinn shook his head to dislodge the ridiculous idea. No way. No one’s that crazy.
“Yeah, it’s totally cool with me.” Quinn would worry about how awkward a team get-together might be in the future. Wyatt with Dory, him with Sarah, Nelson there too. He flinched inside. “Go for it. Happy for you, man.”
Quinn hung up, an uneasy feeling creeping up his spine. If Dory hadn’t launched the rock through his window, who had?
He texted Sarah. Workout with me in the gym in 5?
Sarah: Thought we already worked out?
Quinn: Different kind of workout, although I’m UP for a repeat of the last workout.
Sarah: Cute.
Quinn: Is that a yes or a yes?
Sarah: See you in 5.
He puffed out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, and his mind meandered away from the rock to being in bed with Sarah this morning. Despite his mom’s jarring wake-up call, there’d been no weirdness between him and Sarah. No awkwardness. Just a natural progression that felt so right.
By the time he’d changed into gym shorts and a T-shirt, excitement was percolating in his veins. He couldn’t wait to be with her again. Somewhere along the way, he’d convinced himself the wind or kids had been responsible for the rock toss after all, and he shoved the incident to a far corner of his brain.
Chapter 30
Did Not See That One Coming
The next two days unfolded in a surreal limbo. COVID-19 had turned the world nonsensical a while ago, but Sarah had floated contentedly between her usual daily role in the Hadley household and a totally different, unforeseen role in Quinn’s bed at night. There, they spent covert hours talking, exploring one another, and making love.
Lurking at the back of Sarah’s mind were two inescapable perceptions: First, Liz had been acting strangely distant since Quinn and Sarah’s first “date,” and while no one pointed to the elephant in the room, Sarah was convinced Liz knew what she and Quinn were doing after lights-out. Second, while Sarah enjoyed her intimate time with Quinn, she questioned whether their fledgling relationship would wither on the vine. Was it merely a COVIDism, a consequence of being forced to shelter in place together, or something more that could outlast whatever their “new normal” would be?
These thoughts drifted in her head as she prepared to check on Gage and Lily’s house. Maybe getting out of her pleasant bubble, driving across town and seeing firsthand that the world still spun on its axis, would infuse her with a sense of reality and force her to plan for what came next. She couldn’t live with Quinn and his mom forever.
Quinn walked her and Archer to the garage, stealing a kiss before he helped her into her Jeep. “You sure you don’t want me to go with you, babe?”
Sarah shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine. I’ve got Arch, and he’ll save me from any big, bad bogeymen. Besides, my lips could use the break.”
Dark eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Is this your not-so-subtle way of telli
ng me you want me to stop kissing you?”
She chuckled. “No. Just seeing if you’re paying attention.”
He leaned in and laid a knee-melting kiss on her. “When it comes to your lips,” he murmured, “I’m always paying attention.” He pulled back and shut her car door. “You’re back in an hour, right?”
She gave him an exaggerated eye-roll. “Yes, Sparky. And if I’m running late, I’ll text or call you.”
“How about you text me when you get there and again when you leave?”
She nodded her agreement, stifling the exasperated sigh lurking in her chest.
“Okay, then. You may leave.” He followed this with a royal hand-roll.
“Why, thank you, benevolent master.”
Winding along the drive, she peeked at her rearview mirror, where Quinn’s big frame stood by the open garage door. One last wave, and he disappeared from sight. Overprotective and overattentive were adjectives she never would have imagined using for Quinn Hadley, nor could she have envisioned herself enjoying either. They should have chafed her independent self, but oddly she liked it. He had a way of making her feel special, important. The way he treated his mother, but different. Sarah doubted any of his puck bunnies had burrowed that far into his world, and she would take in whatever she could and savor the ride as long as it lasted. Eyes wide-open.
She turned down the alleyway behind Lily’s house and pulled in front of the detached garage. Before exiting the Jeep, she sent Quinn a quick text letting him know she’d arrived. With a flip of the picket gate’s latch, she let herself and Archer into the backyard. The dog took particular interest in a flower bed beside the back door as she fumbled with the key. He snuffled and pawed at the ground where some early spring blooms lay broken atop the soil, as though they’d been trampled. Probably some neighborhood cat using the bed as its outdoor litter box.
“Arch, stay out of the dirt.”
Sarah unlocked the door, and Archer wedged his nose in the crack, flinging it wide in his eagerness to get inside.
