Page 20 of Sins of the Father

It’s Quinn’s brother. He’s off-limits.

I turn and try to stop the throbbing in my lower region, but it’s pointless. “No. It’s kind of you to volunteer. I would have ended up here anyway, seeing as I have no job and apparently live in an unsafe place.”

“Is it not true?”

“What?”

“About your place being unsafe?”

“Miss,” the bartender says and hands me a goblet of wine.

I take my drink then down a large sip. Steven patiently waits for my answer. His eyes focus only on me, which makes me more nervous. “No, it’s true. I live in a dump. Well, I shouldn’t say dump because it makes it sound like I don’t clean my place because I do. I’m a very clean person. And it may be falling apart, but I at least take pride in my home. So no, it’s not a luxury condo like what I used to live in, or anywhere near Jamison and Quinn’s penthouse, but it’s mine, and as of this week, I can still afford it, so, hey, cheers to me.” I smile then down another mouthful while cringing inside as I realize I just babbled about my rodent-infested place and lack of money. To make matters worse, I say, “I forgot to tell you about the cockroaches.” I take another swig.

Steven doesn’t move, and his expression is neutral.

Great. Way to impress Mr. I Have It Together.

He’s totally judging you now.

You’d judge you if you weren’t you.

“Quinn and I used to make the cockroaches race.”

“I’m sorry?”

He motions to the bartender and sets his empty beer glass down. “When we were kids. We would catch them in cups then put them in this racetrack thing we made out of cardboard boxes we taped together.”

“Quinn played with bugs?”

He smiles, displaying his perfectly straight, white teeth. “Yep. Whoever lost had to do the dishes.”

“Bet you don’t have cockroaches in your place now.”

“Every now and then, they still pop up. Hard in the city to never see any.” He winks, and my panties officially melt.

The bartender delivers his beer, and when he steps closer to pick it up, my insides quiver. He towers over me, even in my heels. His fitted, white button-down shirt molds around his torso perfectly. His broad shoulders and muscular arms he could only have gotten from spending hours in the gym. And the warmth of his body heat hits me like a freight train even though he’s not touching me.

I inhale deeply, and he catches me and freezes. His eyes widen and smolder, and his tongue slowly licks his lips.

“Steven,” Quinn’s mom cheerfully calls out.

He shuts his eyes, matches my deep breath, and forces a smile. He spins. “Mom.”

“I heard we get Hope for the week!”

“No, Harper and I get Hope for the week.”

“Harper?”

I step out from behind Steven and wave. “Hi, Beth.”

“Hi.” She smiles then looks at Steven. “What day do you have Hope, honey?”

“What day?”

“Yes. I’m assuming you’re each taking her half the week?”

“No. Ummm...” He gazes at me.

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