Daughters Of The Bride(50)
“I was at my mom’s,” she continued. “We get together every few months. Girls only. Girls and margaritas.” She paused. “Rachel drove me home. I wouldn’t drive like this.”
“Good to know.”
“I’m responsible.”
“I see that.” He studied her for a second. “Did you eat?”
“A taco. It was good, but then Sienna made some crack about me being a maid and it wasn’t as fun after that.” She put her hands on her hips. “There’s nothing wrong with being a maid. Someone has to do it. It’s a necessary service. I take pride in my work and so does everyone else who works here. Maids are good people, but sometimes the way she says it...” Courtney shook her head. “We should respect honest work and the people who do it.”
“You are drunk.”
She stomped her foot. “I mean it, Quinn.”
“I know you do. And you’re right. Honest work should be respected. Let’s go in the kitchen and get you a big glass of water and some aspirin. Maybe a snack. Otherwise, you’re going to have a really bad morning.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I probably should have stopped at three margaritas.”
He rose. Pearl jumped off the sofa and joined him. He went over to Courtney’s side and put a hand on the small of her back. “Three is a good limit.”
“Too late now.” She giggled.
He gave her a little push in the direction of the kitchen. The dogs came along with them, Sarge carrying his sock. As Pearl and Sarge settled in the giant dog bed set up for them in a corner of the kitchen, Quinn had a brief thought about health inspectors, then told himself Joyce had it all under control.
He got a glass from the cupboard and ice from the ice machine, then filled the glass with water. Courtney perched on one of the bar stools by the massive island.
“I think you’re right,” she told him. “About me punishing my family. By not telling them the truth, I mean. They don’t know any of it. Not that I have my GED or my AA or that I’m getting my bachelor’s.”
“Drink,” he told her, pointing at the glass.
She took several gulps. “My marketing professor has asked me to be in a special class he teaches. You have to be invited. It’s very exciting.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks. We’re supposed to say a good thing and a bad thing and I didn’t tell.”
Quinn leaned against the counter. “For those of us who haven’t had margaritas, what does that mean?”
She laughed. “At dinner. We have to say one good thing and one bad thing.” Her eyes widened. “Sienna’s good thing wasn’t her engagement.”
“Are you surprised?”
“No. She wasn’t happy at all. But jeez, if you’re going to fake it, go all the way.” Her smile faded. “Did that sound dirty? I didn’t mean it to.”
“It didn’t.”
“Good. Hey, you took me off your room.”
He repeated the words in his head, searching for either context or meaning, and found neither.
“Your room,” she repeated. “I’m not your maid.”
“My honest, hardworking maid. Yes, I know. I did ask for someone different.”
She glared at him. “I do a good job.”
“I’m sure you do. My request wasn’t about your work, it was about the fact that I know you. It was too strange—you picking up after me.”
“Then pick up after yourself.” She giggled. “Okay, I get what you’re saying, but it’s not like I was going to snoop in your underwear drawer.”
“What makes you think I wear underwear?”
Her eyes widened.
He chuckled. “Drink your water.”
She took a few more swallows, then asked, “Am I a project?”
“Do you want to be?”
“I’m not sure. I think it would be interesting. You know stuff I can’t even imagine. You’ve been successful in business. That would be interesting to talk about. But the whole project thing—that makes me feel like you’ll never take me seriously.”
“Do you need me to?”
“Sure. I’m not a little girl. I’m a woman.”
“I’m very clear on your status in the girl versus woman arena. For what it’s worth, you’re not a project. I don’t do that anymore.”
“Why not?”
“My last project died.” Quinn swore silently. Where had that come from? He hadn’t meant to tell her the truth.
Her mouth dropped open. “For real?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.”