Chapter 16
Socially Distanced Sex
As Quinn was heading into the gym the next morning, Sarah and his mom were heading out.
Sarah gave him a chin lift and a cool look that had him wondering if he’d dreamed last night. “Hey, Sparky. How’d you sleep?”
“Like sh—sherbet. You?”
She smirked. “Like a log.”
His mom’s puzzled gaze bounced between them, but before she could ask, Sarah herded her upstairs.
Sassy Sarah was back in all her glory and set the tone for the day, with her defensive systems solidly locked into place and bristling. Jonesing for a repeat of the night before when she’d opened up to him, he tried to rekindle the magic as they cleaned up after dinner.
In the family room, his mom was safely ensconced on the couch, and he ventured in a hush, “So what made you fall for Wolf in the first place?”
Sarah came to a complete stop and glared at him as though he’d committed some huge faux pas, like asking her to lick his hockey gear clean. “Why?”
He twirled a fork before dropping it into the dishwasher silverware basket. “Just wondering. He’s a lot older.” He bit back a remark about the guy being too old to get it up more than once a week. “Is that what attracted you?”
Her face went rosy with a flush, though he couldn’t be sure if it was embarrassment or anger. Whatever the cause, it was a pretty color on her fair skin. “That was part of it.”
“And then, of course, there’s his ‘strong and sexy’ name.” Why this irked him, he had no clue.
“Yes. It went along with that older-man mystique,” she snorted.
“And I suppose Wolf was great in the sack.” Though he tried to hold it in, snark laced words he shouldn’t have even spewed. What the hell is wrong with me? A little voice blared that he was trying to knock Wolf down a peg or five, but he conveniently disregarded it.
“Oh God, yeah. Phew!” She fanned herself with her hand. “A very skilled lover, as only an older man can be. That’s probably the main reason I fell for him.”
Okay. Now she was just yanking his chain. Wasn’t she? The conversation had taken a decidedly uncomfortable turn—his fault—and he was anxious to steer it in a different direction. “How about we work a puzzle after Mom goes to bed?”
“Too dark.”
“Then let’s play poker tonight.” He waggled his eyebrows.
Her head did a little shake-bob thing like she was trying to get a bug out of her ear. “What?” Light flared in her eyes. “Oh, I get it. No, I am not playing strip poker with you.”
He began buffing the counters to lock out the image of naked Sarah inviting him to explore all that skin—her wonderland. “I didn’t suggest strip poker, Sunshine. Jesus, you think I’d want to play with my mom one short wing away?”
His mind lurched in a new direction: Was he as skilled as Wolf?
Whatever that meant. Just as he wasn’t sure exactly what made him successful at picking up women, he was equally uncertain about his bedroom prowess.
Were his cocksure assumptions based on reality or on what his admirers constantly fed him—and what he wanted to believe?
Another mental segue, and he was questioning whether he was just as guilty as Wolf.
Quinn had used a lot of women over the years.
Except they’d used him too. It was mutual, consensual, honest. As for Wolf, what he’d done wasn’t right.
On so many levels. Dude was married, and he’d lied to Sarah.
He’d sucked her into an affair while withholding facts she should have had in the beginning in order to make an informed decision.
Sarah twisting her head and peering up at him brought him back to the here and now. He must have still been frowning because her next words were, “Aw, is widdle Quinnie Winnie upset? C’mon. Don’t sulk. Let’s do this so I can beat your ass—ets in poker too.”
“You’re such a—” Flustered, he threw down the kitchen towel and stalked away. Behind him, Sarah’s voice softened. “I’m sorry, Quinn. I didn’t mean …”
Whoa. She called me “Quinn.” He didn’t register the rest of what she said because he was halfway down the hall and out of earshot, wondering how to stop comparing himself against Wolf.
In his room, he stomped around the perimeter like a little bitch before he laced his hands on top of his head and blew out a series of lung-filling breaths, trying to blunt the spikes in his chest.
His phone vibrated—his other phone—and he checked the screen. Dallas. One of his favorite hotties. He answered with a “Hey, Theresa,” before thinking through actually speaking with Theresa.
“Hi, Quinn,” came her breathy voice. Only right now it bordered on squeaky. “Been thinking about you, lover boy.”
His automaton self kicked into gear, and his lips tipped up in a half-smile. “Oh yeah? And what have you been thinking?”
“About you and me and—”
“You know I can’t come see you right now, right? I mean, with the virus?”
“You can’t fly down here for a day or two? I could fly up there. I miss you,” she purred.
“Can’t, sweetheart. Team rules.” Not really, but she wouldn’t know any different.
“Oh, I hate this virus!” Her voice had taken on a pouty quality.
Pouty and squeaky. “I’m missing my favorite man.
Guess I’ll have to settle for talking to him—and doing other things with him on the phone.
I’m wearing a special outfit. Want to see?
” Her voice shifted into sexy mode. He pictured her in something sheer and small as she twirled her blond strands, but oddly, it wasn’t doing a damn thing for him.
His mother’s words about getting to know the women in his life ricocheted around in his brain. “Keep me guessing for right now, sweetheart.” He plopped onto the edge of his bed. “What have you been up to?”
Her tone took on a surprised quality. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what have you been doing? Are you working? Keeping busy?” Seen any engineering shows? Done any 3-D puzzles? Read anything?
“Well, the salon had to furlough all of us so, uh, I haven’t been doing much of anything besides binge-watching Friends.”
“Oh. Didn’t know you were into that show.” What else did he not know about her? So much. And that had always been fine with him.
She laughed—how had he forgotten her laugh sounded like a bray? “Oh yeah. This is like the fourth time I’ve watched the whole season from start to end.”
Huh. “With all this free time on your hands, wouldn’t you want to watch something different?”
“Like what?” She sounded genuinely mystified. “Why? What are you watching? As if I couldn’t guess, dirty boy,” she said slyly.
He ignored her inference. “Not exactly binge-watching, but I’m getting caught up on Impossible Engineering. I’m also enjoying Shark vs Tuna.”
This seemed to blow her little mind because she didn’t respond.
“Theresa? You still there?”
“I’m here.”
Normally, their time on the phone was short and deliberate—to set up a meeting place.
And they often did that by texting. He usually took her to dinner, but what did they talk about?
He couldn’t remember. Mostly, she talked while he sat, focused on getting back to her place, where conversation stopped and they got down to the real purpose for seeing each other.
“So, uh,” he began, “what’s the weather like down there?”
“Hot! And sticky. Hopefully, it’ll cool off tomorrow.” Another long pause. “What’s it like where you are?”
“On the cool side.”
As he hunted for a different topic of conversation, it struck him full force that all he had in common with this woman was sex.
Not that there was anything wrong with that—it had been the reason he’d pursued her in the first place.
Or had she pursued him? Didn’t matter because, either way, stark ramifications were staring him in the face.
Ramifications such as how conversation between them bumped and jolted, like people on skates for the first time.
He found himself anxious to escape what was turning into an extremely awkward phone call and hustle downstairs before Sarah turned in for the night.
Maybe he could convince her to climb into the hot tub with him.
No, bad idea. Maybe that poker game? A round or ten of cribbage?
Parcheesi? He didn’t care what the game was.
Or they could curl up on the couch and watch something, anything, close enough that he could breathe her in.
“Quinn?” Theresa’s voice jarred him back to the conversation he was supposed to be engaged in.
“Ah, yeah?” He cleared his throat.
“Did you hear what I said?”
No effing idea. “Which part?”
“Guess I tied your tongue, didn’t I?” she tee-heed. “The part about showing you what I’m wearing and letting you watch me pull it off slowly—”
Something crashed downstairs. “Hey, Theresa, I gotta go, but it’s been nice talking to you. Take care, okay?”
“Uh, okay. Bye, Quinn. Will I hear from you?”
Unbidden, a forceful “No” popped into his head. “Sure. Once we get back to normal, I’ll be in touch.”
He barely had time to chuck the phone on the bed before zooming downstairs. His heart hammered his rib cage as all sorts of bloody clips played through his head. When he got to the darkened kitchen, Sarah was frozen in place on the other side of the island, staring at the floor.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
She lifted wide eyes to his. Then she covered her mouth, and her shoulders began shaking.
“Are you hurt?” He rounded the island. His gaze landed on what she’d been looking at, though he couldn’t quite comprehend what he saw. As if she’d been trying to hold back a bursting dam, she suddenly let go, and peals of laughter rolled through her body.
Scattered at her bare feet were piles of bills and shards of glass from the now shattered swear jar.
“I was … I was … trying … and then …” Her words came out in gasps, she was laughing so hard.
“The whole … the damn thing …” She doubled over in hysterics, causing laughter to bubble up and out of him.
“Don’t move until I clean up the glass. How did it happen?”
She finally caught her breath. “I was putting money in, and I knocked it over. Now we can swear all we want!” Another fit of laughter.
By the time he returned with a handheld vacuum, she was shaking splinters from money and setting it gingerly on the counter. Her body still shuddered with mirth.
“Where’s my mom?”
Sarah stooped, reached, and plucked a bill off the floor. “She turned in. I’m surprised she hasn’t come out to find out what the loud crash was all about.”
Quinn motioned for Sarah to stand still while he sucked up shards around her feet. “She probably didn’t hear it. Her bedroom’s too far away.”
Sarah inched out her big toe.
“Stop moving until I get this cleaned up!” he barked. “Where’s Archer?”
“Outside.” Her answer to his order was to dance in tight little circles, swinging her hips from side to side. She might as well have flipped him off.
He set the mini vac aside, trying not to laugh at her antics. “As usual, you’re being a total pain in the ass. No more Mr. Nice Guy.”
“When have you ever—” She let out a screech when he swooped her up. “What the hell are you doing?” She kicked her feet until he dumped her unceremoniously on the couch, where she promptly gusted with more laughter and rolled off.
He let out a few chuckles and wagged a finger at her. “Stay. Better yet, go find another vase. Maybe we can make this look like nothing happened.”
She popped up, and as she walked away, his conversation with Theresa shot through his mind, along with the feeling of being off balance, unable to relax. By contrast, the tension that had had his insides wadded up was already melting away.