Chapter 12 #2
Sarah rose from her seat and sauntered toward him. “From a woman author writing romance for women about stuff women like. You could add it to your arsenal and learn to be a better lover.”
“Who says I need—never mind,” he groused.
“I’m not sure I could deal with all the throbbing.
And you should not be reading that shit to my mother.
” He went for his wallet before Sarah could tell him to pony up the two bucks—three, if she took note of the “hell” he’d thrown out.
As he stuffed the bills into the swear jar, he said, “This stack grew. Is this you?”
She bit her bottom lip and shot her eyes to the ceiling, where they lingered for a few beats. Oh shit. There was that cute look again. “Well, I was wrangling the stupid blender to make smoothies, and your mother happened to overhear—”
He let out a whoop, blowing off some of the tension that had built up inside him, though he couldn’t say exactly where the tension had come from; he hadn’t been tense when he’d first walked in.
Whether it was being annoyed Sarah was reading this crap to his mom or whether it was hearing the crap in her sultry voice, he couldn’t be sure.
Wait! Since when has she had a sultry voice?
Sarah took the opportunity to size him up, raking her gaze from the sunglasses on top of his head to his feet. “I never took you for a prude.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Shit! Another five bucks. Goddamn! In pure frustration, he wrestled all the money from his wallet. “There! Now I can swear all I want.”
Sarah stood on tiptoe and pretended to inspect the wad he’d thrown in. “Not all you want, Sparks.”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “That shit you were reading. Is that really what women want?”
She patted his chest. “Only if they can’t have you, big guy.”
He face-palmed. “I give up.”
“Hey, Gage was telling me about some virtual interview thing for the team in”—she dashed a look at the microwave clock—“fifteen minutes. Aren’t you part of that?”
He’d been so distracted he’d nearly forgotten. “Oh shit!” Before pivoting away, he pointed at the jar. “I’m covered.”
Today was his PR virtual appearance, and three of his teammates had been added to the mix. Yep. Nelson, Shanstrom, and McMurphy were now part of the fun and games. Probably to diffuse the ongoing fallout from the press conference.
A grin broke out on his face. Wish I could’ve been there when Weasel Prick heard the “good” news.
The guy had sure milked the situation for all he was worth, whining on social media about Quinn and the team.
Scumbag. Much as Quinn wanted to announce it on today’s show, it wasn’t his place.
But he’d make sure Wyatt found out because the goalie had gotten sick and was still pissed as hell at Quinn.
“Hello, Quinn! Glad you could join us today,” a voice bellowed from his computer, jerking him back to what he was supposed to be doing.
“Uh, hey. How’s it going?” He gave a little wave to the tiny black eye above his computer screen.
The interview went the way Quinn had expected.
Softball questions about what he’d been doing to keep in shape and stay busy—same questions his teammates fielded.
Sarah Sunshine had sashayed past a few times with piles of clothes, making him wonder what the hell she was up to.
When the interview wound down, Quinn tried to catch T.J.
for a few minutes—he really needed to clear the air with the guy, but Shanny gave him a curt “Not now.”
Quinn had been juggling off and on during the interview and lobbed one in frustration when Shanny cut him off. Unfortunately, it bounced off Sarah’s right shoulder as she was breezing by. She stopped and turned. “Trying to tell me something, Sparky?”
“Sorry, it got away from me. But jeez, toots. That’s your third or fourth pass. Miss me that much?” he taunted.
She parked her fist on her hip. “In case you didn’t know, there’s a laundry room down this way. I’m doing the dirty clothes—including yours—and this is the shortest route, so passing by your office is a necessity, not a desire.”
“So sue me for not knowing. There are like five laundry rooms in this place. Wait. You’re doing my laundry?” Why the hell was she doing that? She wasn’t the damn maid.
“Uh, because your mom can’t and she asked me? No maid service while we’re sheltering in place, Sparky.”
Oh. Right. Well, didn’t he feel like an ungrateful jerk. “Uh, thanks for doing that.”
“How’d the interview go?”
“Meh, about what I expected. You know, though, there’s one thing that always bugs the shit out of me.” Why was he going here?
“What’s that?”
“Whenever they find out I’ve got an engineering degree, they act so damn surprised. Like I’m too stupid to have graduated in basket weaving, let alone earned a BE.”
“I get the same thing.”
“You do?” Stupid and Sarah didn’t go together. Annoying and Sarah, yes, but not stupid.
“Oh yeah, but it’s a little different. It’s more of a shocked look they get when they discover a woman could be a structural engineer.”
“No way. Not in this day and age.”
“Way. There are lots of holdouts who haven’t caught up to the twenty-first century. I feel like I’m being patronized sometimes, like they think what I’m doing is ‘cute’ when I really should be home taking care of my man.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” He knew better, he really did, but he couldn’t keep from needling her. Nor could he keep from making it worse. “Maybe if you had the right kind of man at home—”
“You’re really going there?” She shot him a look that told him he was skating on thin ice. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. If I had someone as awesome as ‘The Mighty Quinn,’ he’d become the center of the universe and I would be completely fulfilled?”
He grinned. “Sounds about right.”
She stooped, and before he knew what was coming, she hurled the beanbag at his head—and connected—then stomped off.