Chapter Five

Of course, up was the first place she looked.

And almost lost her lunch. Everything stopped. Breath, thought, motion. And then self-preservation kicked in and she backed right out. Into the hard wall that happened to be Quinn. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her.

Don’t lose it, Holly. Just keep cool. Breathe. Do what a normal person would do if they walked into a room, looked up, and saw that there were at least a dozen or so dead mice trapped between the pink insulation and the clear plastic vapor barrier. She tried taking a deep breath. There just wasn’t any air to breathe. And even if there was any available oxygen, it was surely contaminated by the dead-mouse air.

Holly looked up again, then squeezed her eyes shut. Then she felt Quinn’s hands on her shoulders. Large, confident, strong. The exact opposite of how she felt at the moment.

“So, I see there’s a little bit of a problem here?” Holly managed to croak, opening her eyes. She thought she sounded pretty convincing. Except that everyone’s eyes went over hers to look at Quinn. She wasn’t going to turn around and let him see her face, which she was sure was extra “blotchy.”

“It’s a minor issue,” Quinn said, his voice rough, the squeeze he gave her shoulders extremely gentle. “We’ve got two choices. We can leave things as is, put the ceiling back up, or we can get into the attic, rip out all of the insulation, then re-insulate.”

“Yup. That. Rip everything out,” Holly said, nodding frantically and waving her arms. Like really, was there a choice?

“Holly, these mice have been dead for years. If you’re going to sell the place anyway, why don’t we just put the ceiling back up and not deal with it? Dead mice aren’t going to hurt anyone,” Jake said.

“Get rid of it, Jake,” Quinn said, his breath rustling against her hair.

“That means at least another few days of work���”

“Just do it.” Quinn sighed.

Jake frowned and then peered up at the ceiling. “And I don’t even know how much it will cost—”

“Doesn’t matter. Oh, what’s that noise? I think I hear my cell phone,” Holly said in a high-pitched voice that hurt her own ears and ducked under Quinn’s arm. She did her fastest walk short of a run from of the room and flew down the stairs.

Holly banged open the screen door with the palm of her hand and burst onto the empty front porch. Her house was filled with mice. Dirty little mice that just appeared out of nowhere. Without warning. And she had been about to lose it until she felt Quinn’s hands on her. The imprint of Quinn was still on her back. It was as though she’d backed into a wall. Except the wall had been alive and breathing and hot. Comforting, electrifying, and tempting all in one. For the briefest of seconds, before pride had brought her back to reality, she had wanted to accept the comfort she felt, that she knew was being offered, as his strong hands had squeezed her shoulders.

The vibration of her phone in her pocket reminded her that she’d left Claire hanging earlier. When she pulled out her phone and glanced at the Caller ID, she noticed it wasn’t Claire—it was The Martin Group. More specifically, Daniel. This was the longest she’d ever gone without thinking about her job. She hadn’t thought about it in days. She hadn’t thought about her clients, the projects she’d put on hold, the color in the Thorntons’ front foyer. It was one o’clock in the afternoon, when she’d typically be in her office, drinking a giant latte and going over designs at her desk.

The vibration of the phone in her hand was relentless. Holly took a deep breath. “Hey stranger,” she answered, trying to sound engaged.

“Hey there, Holly. How’s it going?” Daniel’s deep voice made her smile. Of all her colleagues, she and Daniel had clicked from the beginning. That had eventually led to them dating briefly. She leaned against the railing and looked out onto the front yard.

“Good. Great. I just found out the house is filled with rodents, but other than that, everything’s moving ahead of schedule,” she said, almost smiling as Daniel laughed on the other end of the phone.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it. Listen, Holl, I’m calling because the Thorntons wanted to bump up the start date on their vacation property, and since you’re not going to be back in time”—he coughed—“Martin asked me to take it over.”

Holly’s stomach churned. Wow. That was fast. She had spent countless hours with the Thorntons, getting to know them, wining and dining them, all in an effort to secure them as clients. And now…she was gone from work for barely three weeks and they were being handed to Daniel? On a rational level she knew, of course, that if they wanted to get started on a new project, Martin had to keep them happy. And yes, she hadn’t thought about them in weeks, but that didn’t mean that when she was back at work they wouldn’t receive top priority. But still… Panic started slowly swirling. Taking a leave of absence from work had felt like the only option. Martin had been gracious in allowing her to do this, and he knew that Holly had never taken a sick day until Jennifer and Rick. But her career was still everything. And she needed that job. The sale of this house would secure Ella’s future. But her salary was what they were going to live off of. And she wasn’t going to throw away her career. Holly looked down at her chipped fingernails, her running shoes, jeans… Talk about a different life…

“Holly, you still there?” She could hear the worry that laced his voice. What was she supposed to say?

Holly cleared her throat. “Of course, I am. I’m totally okay with that, Daniel, good luck. They’re a little on the demanding side.”

“Thanks, sweets. I met with them this morning and they seemed reasonable and anxious to get started.”

He had already met with them? “Great. Well, good luck.”

He sighed. “Holly, you’re not mad are you?”

“Mad? Why would I be mad?” she asked, trying to sound casual. No, she wasn’t mad.

“Okay, good. Hey, we’re all looking forward to your big party. Martin mentioned it this morning, so be sure to text the details, okay?”

The open house that she was planning would be a celebration and a strategic move, a great way to showcase her work on the renovation. She knew her friends would make the two-hour drive for her, and Martin would remember why he loved her designs. She’d quickly be back in their good graces.

“Sure. Good luck, Dan,” Holly said, ending the call without waiting for his reply. Her eyes rested on Quinn’s truck parked at the top of her driveway. And inevitably she thought of the differences between Quinn and Daniel. She knew it wasn’t fair to compare, and it wasn’t as if she was with either man. She had ended things with Daniel before they barely even began. And if she were honest with herself, she knew the real reason was because of the man inside her grandparents’ house—the one that made her feel like if there was anyone she’d ever let in, it would be him.

…

Quinn raced down the stairs. Holly was going to be the death of him. Of course she had to look up. And even though he knew it was stupid, and it really was her own fault for not listening to him, he felt bad for her. He’d never admit it to her, but Holly being afraid of something was a bit of a shock. After stopping to ask someone if they’d seen her, he made his way out to the front porch. Sure enough, there she was, her back to him, staring straight ahead at the damp yard littered with fallen leaves.

“Hey,” he whispered, standing beside her, anxious to see the expression on her face.

“Hi,” she said, looking up at him and then away. He noticed she was holding her phone in her hands.

“Everything okay?” he asked cautiously.

She nodded. “It was just work,” she said, her voice sounding heavy. He didn’t really know much about her work other than that she was an interior designer. He couldn’t forget that, since she kept reminding him every time he offered his opinion on the renovation.

“They surviving without you?” he asked, imagining what Holly would be like in an office. She probably ran the damn place. And she was undoubtedly a workaholic. He liked thinking of Holly as successful and in control, fulfilling the dreams she’d left for. But the more he hung around her, the more he was beginning to see she was also an expert at denial. Seeing her hurt or scared stirred him. It made him wish he could step up and take care of her.

She crossed her arms. “The team at Martin Laurence has no problem going on without me.”

“The Martin Laurence?”

“Yup,” she said with a half smile.

He felt proud of her. Hell, if she worked for the country’s top firm, she was obviously doing great. “I had no idea you worked for him.”

“Yeah. I started as an intern and then worked my way up. Really it just boiled down to a lot of long days and nights working my butt off trying to impress him until he made me a senior designer.” He wasn’t surprised she was senior designer at her age, but it also made him wonder if the idea he’d been contemplating would be remotely interesting to her at all. Martin Laurence was an entirely different type of environment than what he was planning on offering her.

“I’m sure it’s more than that. You’re really young to have a position like that,” he said, watching her closely. The smile that emerged on her face as she looked up at him was so damn cute and mischievous that he felt himself smiling back, without even knowing what she was going to say.

“Well, I know to you I must seem very young, but really, twenty-eight isn’t all that young,” she said, rolling back on her heels.

Quinn threw his head back and laughed, wondering how the hell she could do that to him. He loved that she laughed along. And he loved how she laughed. It was natural and feminine and just about as intoxicating as the woman herself. And when he looked at her again, when the laughter subsided, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her. And hold her. And take care of everything.

“So, how long till that situation is dealt with?”

Quinn pictured her in that tight T-shirt again. And then remembered the way she had fit so nicely against him upstairs, her back and the curve of her bottom fitting so sweetly against him. Really, was there an end to their situation? The only ending he saw to this was the both of them taking care of the unfulfilled desire between them. The problem with that plan was that sleeping with Holly would only bring on a thousand more complications. And then she’d leave—for good.

“Quinn?”

He looked over at her. Her eyebrows were raised and she was waiting expectantly. Right. “The mice?” he asked, hoping that’s what she had asked about.

She nodded rapidly.

“I didn’t know you were so afraid of mice.”

Holly was shaking her head. “Me? No, no, I’m not afraid of mice—” she said, her hands flying to her chest, and he refused to think how his hands would be much better there. He groaned inwardly. None of this was going as planned. He had come here today, coffees in hand, to try to explain the whole Christine thing. But instead he’d gotten caught up with Holly and her crush on him and had behaved like a schoolboy flirting with her. All it had taken was her wearing a tight T-shirt and he’d lost all direction. And then there was the mouse drama. Now he was out here on the porch, still nowhere near to discussing what he originally had intended. And those coffees were sitting cold in the attic—that was infested with mice. How the hell she had missed the black-box mouse traps up there, he had no idea. Quinn yanked on his tie as he looked at her standing there all huffy. He should really leave—for the rest of the day.

“Holly, why can’t you admit you’re afraid of something?” he asked, trying to filter the exasperation from his voice.

She crossed her arms. “I’m not afraid of mice, okay? I just don’t like how they surprise you. I mean, if there were some sort of warning before they came into the room, then fine, maybe. But the fact that they just appear when you least expect them is very disconcerting.” Quinn tried to follow her train of thought.

“Why would a mouse announce himself before he walked into a room?”

She made an irritated tsking noise and frowned at him. “Never mind. Anyway, mice carry viruses. I don’t like them,” she said, lifting her chin. “And it’s not healthy for Ella.” He saw the pride, the defensiveness. He knew that look. And it made him feel bad. Because it reminded him of how alone she’d been this last year, and all that she’d been through. Suddenly, he didn’t want to leave anymore. He didn’t want to tease her about the mice. And he wasn’t going to tell her that when they’d been standing in the attic, he’d seen a mouse. Nope.

Quinn nodded slowly. “Fine. Well, I’ve told the crew to pull out that insulation and get it all cleared out. They took off for lunch, but they’ll get started on that when they get back, okay?”

She flashed him a small smile. “Great. Thanks.”

The impact of her smile hit him in the gut.

Quinn noticed the receiver Holly had clipped to her jeans. “How’s Ella sleeping through all this racket?” Wasn’t he supposed to be leaving? Why was he asking about Ella?

“I bought one of those sound machine things that play white noise or ocean waves. I thought it would do a good job of drowning out the noise of the workers. So far, so good,” she said, knocking on the wooden railing.

Quinn nodded. Go now, buddy. You’ve had your answer to the pressing question of how a baby is sleeping through renovations, now you can leave. “Good idea.”

“Well, thanks for dropping by. Now that those guys are out of the en suite, I want to get in the master bedroom and hang the chandelier that arrived yesterday.”

Quinn clenched his teeth and stifled the groan of aggravation that was threatening. She was going to hang a chandelier? So much for leaving.

…

Holly was surprised Quinn was still here. He was standing close enough to smell his cologne and see the pulse beating in his throat.

“You’re going to hang the chandelier?”

She crossed her arms and frowned up at him. “Yes, I’m going to hang the chandelier.”

Quinn rubbed his hand over his jaw. “Is it electric?”

“Of course,” she said stiffly.

He nodded slowly and shoved his hands into his pockets. His jacket had been tossed a while ago, and she had to admit the crisp white cotton emphasized his bronzed skin and dark hair. She read his expression and knew he doubted her abilities.

“You can watch and see how it’s done, if you’d like,” she said jauntily, opening the door and walking back into the house. She heard Quinn muttering something as he followed her inside.

She was careful not to trip on the protective blankets the painters had placed on the stairs as she made her way to the master bedroom. So much progress had already been made, and Holly loved the way the new banister gleamed and was smooth beneath her fingers. The wide-plank floors had been refinished and creaked in a homey way that her condo in the city didn’t. At the top of the staircase was an arched stained-glass window that cast a soft glow as the sun beat through the pane.

“I meant to tell you, I think you did a great job with this room,” Quinn said as he followed her into the bedroom.

“Thank you. I’m really happy with it,” she said, her gaze going from his to the pale blue walls. It was one of her favorite colors—it was lighter than the ocean, but breezy enough to make her think of the beach. She had ordered a mahogany, four-poster bed that had simple, clean lines. And she’d found a pale blue duvet cover with white piping around the edges. It was elegant without being fussy. Once the house sold, she’d bring back the linens and make use of them in her condo. On either side of the king-sized bed were coordinating nightstands. Lamps with white silk shades that would complete the look were set to arrive in a few weeks. It was a style that she…or any prospective buyer would like. She had worked with this particular staging company countless times at Martin Laurence, and they’d been more than happy to help her out again.

The fireplace was original to the home, but after much deliberation she and Quinn had decided to turn this wood-burning fireplace to a gas one. She knew that homeowners would probably prefer the modern convenience in the bedroom, so a realistic gas insert was placed in the hearth, framed by the original antique mantel. She was pleased with the result.

“Though, I don’t really agree with you having all these floors refinished so soon in the project,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Here we go. “Can you ever give a compliment without following it up with criticism?”

“Well, come on, you’re a senior designer. You know this was a pretty risky thing to do with all the trades still working. What if the guys drop tools or fixtures all over your floors?”

“I had to make the call to pull this reno together as fast as possible. That meant doing some things ahead of schedule. Your guys assured me they’d be careful—or don’t you think your people are capable of that?” she said with a smirk, as his jaw tightened. She turned away from him to pick up the ladder that was leaning against the wall.

“You want me to install that chandelier for you, Holly?” Quinn asked with a sigh as she walked over and positioned the ladder under the ceiling medallion.

“No thanks,” she said, looking up at the wires hanging out of the ceiling. “Wouldn’t want you to get your pretty-boy clothes all dirty,” she said with a wink. And then her stomach fluttered erratically as he laughed and approached her.

“I think I can manage,” he said dryly.

Here we go. “Nope, I’ve got it. I can install a chandelier with my eyes closed, but thanks for the offer.” She had done this many times, even though she was sure Quinn assumed she had no idea what she was doing. When she started out at Martin’s firm, she had to do tons of grunt work, and on smaller projects with tight deadlines everyone had to pitch in to get the job done. She ignored Quinn’s exaggerated sigh as she carefully climbed the ladder with the small crystal chandelier. She was dying to see how this would look in here. It would be the final touch to the room—the jewelry on the little black dress.

“Holly, I could probably do this twice as fast as you, and I’m a lot taller,” said Quinn, trying to sound patient.

“I’m more than capable of standing on a ladder and hooking up a light, okay? Are you afraid that I’ll lose my footing, being the female that I am, and then you’ll have to catch me?” She laughed. There was way too much testosterone in the house with all these male workers. The whole mouse debacle had clearly given them a deluded sense of superiority. Well, mouse-fearing or not, she was more than capable of hanging this thing.

She found herself smiling at his deep chuckle as she reached an appropriate height and rested the chandelier on the top of the ladder.

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I think. But go ahead. Being down here while you’re up there definitely has its perks.” She felt him brace one of his arms on the ladder. Quinn the flirt was very charming.

Holly reached for the wires that were dangling from the ceiling. Then she looked at the ones hanging out of the chandelier. She cursed herself for buying vintage this time. The wires weren’t marked like the ones she usually dealt with. She peered down at Quinn. She might actually need his help. He raised his eyebrow, then smiled. He looked like a giant lion ready to pounce on his lunch. No way. Maybe she’d wait until Quinn went home and then ask one of the electricians later.

“Well, aren’t you going to ask me why?” Quinn prodded.

“Why what?” She let out an exasperated sigh as she continued to study the wires. It was hopeless. But she had to pretend that she knew what she was doing while he was here.

“Why I like being down here while you’re up there,” Quinn said, smile still attached to his voice.

“Why, Quinn?” she asked absently, still tinkering at the top of the ladder. Seriously, she never knew the man talked this much.

“Because the view of your—”

“Mouse!” Holly screamed as a hideous black creature scurried across the room. Quinn turned to look where she was pointing, and Holly’s foot slipped as she craned to follow the direction of the mouse. She crashed to the ground with a mortifying unladylike thud.

“Oh God, Holly, are you okay?” Quinn asked, kneeling beside her. Holly glared at him as she rubbed her ankle, trying to catch her breath. Her entire body throbbed from the impact of the fall. She looked over at the poor chandelier, which had crashed to the ground alongside her. Pieces of crystal sparkled as they littered the ground.

“I’m fine. But my gorgeous chandelier is toast,” she managed to grumble. She had never in her life fallen off a ladder. And now, here, with Quinn, she had to embarrass herself like this?

“Yup, looks like it,” he said, nodding as he looked at the mess.

Holly frowned, remembering the original cause of her current situation. “What about the mouse?”

“Oh, he’s gone. In fact, you may have scared away the whole lot of them with that crash.”

“Thanks.”

“Let me look at your ankle,” he said, laughter still in his voice. He shoved her hand away when she wouldn’t budge. Holly smacked his hand and shot him another dirty look. And then she made the mistake of looking at his mouth, and then up into those blue eyes that weren’t laughing anymore. They were filled with such concern that her voice, her argument, was stuck in her throat.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” he said softly.

She refused to acknowledge the delicious thrill at the endearment that seemed to drip from his mouth like honey.

“Don’t worry about it. I can take care of myself,” she whispered as she touched her ankle.

He sighed roughly. “You’re mad because I didn’t catch you, aren’t you?”

She shook her head. “No, of course not.”

“For the record, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice deep and husky. “Here, let me help you over to the window seat,” he added, positioning his arms under her knees. She shooed him away.

“I am fully capable of standing on my own, Quinn. Besides, how do I know you won’t drop me?” she asked. His jaw clenched. There was no way she was letting him pick her up…and be snuggled against that hard chest, his strong arms pressing her against him.

She slowly tried standing on the other ankle as Quinn cursed under his breath and stood beside her. “I’m sure I weigh considerably more than the lollipop women you’re used to,” she said under her breath. That was the nickname she and Claire had come up with! Why didn’t her brain filter that out before her mouth ejected it?

She hobbled over to the window seat with Quinn’s hand clamped around her upper arm. She knew there was no point in telling him that wasn’t necessary.

“Lollipop women?” His eyebrows were bunched together.

Holly inhaled sharply. And then quickly tried to save face. “Hmm, what? I didn’t say anything,” Holly said, darting her eyes away from his.

“Yes, you did. You said ‘lollipop women.’”

Holly pursed her lips.

“Quinn, obviously we have a situation with the mice that needs to be dealt—”

“Spill it, Holly.”

How could she have actually let that slip? As if she hadn’t felt humiliated enough today. “You know,” she said, waving her hand around in the air and sitting down once they’d reached the seat. Quinn yanked off his tie while she fumbled with the right words to explain a silly old nickname.

“What are you doing?” Holly asked when he unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.

“Stripping,” he said dryly as he placed his tie on the corner of the window seat. “I hate ties,” he grumbled, rolling up his sleeves, baring strong, tanned forearms. How was it possible that he could look even better as the day went on? His crisp white shirt stretched across his broad chest as he rolled his shoulders.

“Well, so about this mouse—”

“Nice try. Back to the lollipop women. I didn’t know there was…another species of woman.”

Holly gave him a stern look. He was practically laughing already and she hadn’t even started explaining yet. “It’s really a stupid story. You won’t be interested.”

“No, no. I can bet ten bucks I’m really going to like this,” he said, grinning and folding his arms in front of him.

“Fine, if you must know. Lollipop women was a nickname that Claire and I came up with one night, a long time ago, after way too many glasses of her father’s hidden stash of brandy… It’s silly really.”

Quinn just smiled at her, his face almost boyish as he waited for further explanation. It was as though he knew how embarrassing this was going to be. “Spill it, Holly.”

Holly rolled her eyes. “You’re such a kid. Fine. The term ‘lollipop women’ refers to your many girlfriends. You see, we realized that all the women you dated had these giant heads.” She raised her arms and made the shape of a circle around her head, while Quinn continued to stare at her, his eyes wide and his mouth twitching, trying to hold back his laughter.

Holly shook her head. “Anyway, these giant heads of theirs were partly due to their overinflated egos, and partly due to way too much hairspray and teasing…so…” she faltered and faked a cough before continuing, “so…these giant lollipop heads were placed on these long, skinny figures that looked just like a lollipop stick.” She folded her hands in her lap and waited.

Quinn shot his head back and howled with pure, unadulterated hilarity. Holly stared at him. She had never heard him laugh so loud. After a few seconds she actually found herself smiling, despite her embarrassment. That is, until the laughter continued, and he was actually clutching his sides and gasping for air.

This was getting a little ridiculous. She crossed her arms and glared at him. His laughter slowed to a soft chuckle, tenderness flickering across his eyes. He sat beside her on the window seat, shaking his head.

“Holly, you kill me. I never know what is going to come out of that sexy mouth of yours.” He held up his hand before she could interrupt. Her heart pounded with successively louder thuds as his eyes wandered over her in a very slow, very appreciative stare and the word sexy echoed in her mind. When his eyes lingered on her breasts and she felt herself immediately respond, she crossed her arms before her. The man was way too confident.

“I’m glad you find me intriguing,” she began haughtily, but stopped speaking as he leaned across and cupped the back of her head.

“Holly,” he began in a voice so throaty and seductive that all she could do was stare into his eyes, that had turned a darker, deeper shade of blue. She was in way over her head, feeling a little crazy as her mouth went dry and a decadent, dangerous heat swam through every inch of her body.

…

“Hey, Quinn!” Jake’s loud, booming voice, followed by his approaching footsteps, jarred Quinn back into reality. His eyes dropped to Holly’s mouth as he slowly eased his hand from her neck. He had never wanted to kiss another woman so badly in his life. She was this crazy mix of sarcasm and vulnerability and altogether sexiness. He couldn’t get enough of her. Her lips were still parted, and he knew she was just as turned on as he was. And hell, he’d barely touched her.

“Quinn, where the hell are you?” Jake called again.

Quinn cursed under his breath and pushed himself up off the window seat. His brother had the worst timing. Just because Jake had been working here almost every day, he didn’t have to act like he owned the damn place. And did he have to yell like a toddler searching for his mother?

Jake appeared in the doorway. “Oh, here you are.”

“I thought you were having lunch? And you shouldn’t be yelling, there’s a baby in the house,” Quinn said, trying to appear civil, when in reality he wanted to tell Jake to get lost.

“Finished. Ooh, right, the baby. Sorry, Holly,” Jake said, wincing and turning to look at her.

“No problem, Jake,” Holly said, standing up without looking at Quinn. “Well, I better get back to work,” Holly said and limped across the room. Quinn cursed himself again for missing her when she fell. It was that crazy scream about the mouse that had him looking in the other direction. Quinn followed her into the closet. She began sorting through a pile of stacked boxes. Or pretending to, by the looks of things.

“Careful you don’t fall in,” he said when she practically shoved her head into the box to avoid him. “Holly?” She finally looked up at him, raising her eyebrows. “Are you sure your ankle is okay?”

She nodded, giving him a stiff smile.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he said. He could feel Jake sniffing around, just waiting to catch a hint of something between him and Holly. He made a mental note to see if there was a project out of town he could send Jake to for the duration of Holly’s stay.

“Oh, actually, I need to do some shopping for when I stage the house, so I won’t be around tomorrow,” she said, pulling out a bunch of bubble wrap from inside the box.

Quinn’s eyes traveled over her, his gut clenching into a knot as her shirt tightened over her breasts. And then he pictured her in that shirt upstairs. Dammit. She definitely wasn’t one of the “lollipop women.”

“I’ll probably be gone all day, but if something comes up just call me on my cell phone, okay?”

“Why don’t I come with you?” Whoa. Did he really just offer to go shopping with Holly? Judging by the sound of Jake’s loud scoff behind him, he did. Panic tore through him. He hated shopping. Abhorred it. The last woman he’d been shopping with was Christine, and he swore he’d never do it again. And yet here he was, asking Holly if he could go shopping with her. And Ella. The thought of Ella cheered him up a bit. He had missed her this week.

Jake slapped him on the back. “That sounds like a great day, buddy. Holly, Quinn just loves shopping. I have to practically haul him out of the mall.”

Quinn knew his face was heating up. Right now he’d rather step on a rusty nail than have to endure Jake witnessing his humiliation. He turned to glare at his brother. His death stare must have had some effect, because Jake’s stupid grin faltered a notch or two.

Holly pierced through the bubbles in the plastic wrap as he waited like a moron for her to answer. It was on the fifth pop that she nodded. “Are you sure you’re up for a day of shopping with a baby in tow?”

Quinn quickly spoke before his brother had a chance to. “Nine?”

“Sure, see you at nine.”

“So, looks like things with Holly are strictly professional,” Jake said wryly as he merged onto the highway.

Quinn shot him a dirty look. “They are.”

“Funny, when I walked in the room it looked like you were ready to inhale her face.”

“We were having a conversation,” Quinn bit back. He stared out the window pensively as his brother weaved in and out of traffic at Jake-speed.

“About what, lipstick?”

Quinn clenched the armrest. “Can you just drive and stop acting like a pansy?”

“I’m sure by now you’ve told her about Christine,” Jake said, shooting him a look that showed no sign of even remotely processing what Quinn had just said.

“Jake, why don’t you worry about yourself. Last time I got a glimpse of your love life, you were skulking out of the Stop and Drop at four a.m.,” Quinn said, reminding his brother of his own dysfunctional relationships.

“That’s a low blow, buddy.”

“Well, then stop talking to me about Holly, and stop mentioning my damn ex-wife.”

“I’m just seeing if you’ve gotten over blaming yourself for what happened.”

Quinn didn’t say anything and looked out the passenger window.

“Quinn?”

“It was my fault,” Quinn spat out. He hated thinking about what happened with Christine. No matter what Jake said, no matter that they’d both moved on, he’d always feel responsible.

“It wasn’t your fault. Christine only wanted your money.”

“Leave her alone,” Quinn said through clenched teeth.

“Christine married you for your money. The first moment that her faith in you was tested, she failed.”

“Either drop the damn subject or pull over so I can walk,” Quinn bit out.

“Fine. You should still tell Holly.”

“Shut up, Jake.”

“Sure. You have fun tomorrow. I know how much you love shopping.”

Quinn grabbed the door handle. It took all of his self control not to pitch himself out of the car. “Pull over, I’m walking.”

Jake stopped grinning. “Okay, okay. Relax,” he said, turning up the volume on the stereo.