Men Like This (16 page)

“Don’t call me
darling
! You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

He’d already hung up.

Emily leaned around Angie to glower at Quinn. Her deep brown eyes narrowed into slits. “He probably guessed getting stuck in a car with your big sister was a bad idea.”

Quinn sighed. “Jack and I are not in a committed relationship. If he wants to work things out with Vickie, that’s his prerogative.”

Her sister crossed her arms and glared out the window. “It’s ugly here. What do you find so appealing about this cold, dreary place?”

“The old-world charm. I think it’s beautiful.”

“You would.”

Angie piped in from between them. “Forget lunch—we need drinks.”

 

“What a bitch. I’ll strangle her myself.”

Quinn doubted Angie’s willowy frame capable of such an act, but it was a lovely sentiment. She cast her best friend a doleful glance. “I don’t want Vickie maimed, but thanks, anyway.”

They’d each ordered the standard fish and chips and three large mugs of local ale. Quinn’s food sat untouched, but she was nearly ready for another round. She took another swallow. “Some reporter is going to have a field day with this. Jack
Decker
.”

A beat passed. Emily tentatively mimicked Quinn. “Decker.”

Angie was the first to burst into laughter. Quinn and a reluctant Emily followed.

Angie used her pinkies to wipe the tears from the corners of her amber eyes. “Oh, man. You’d make a great journalist if the novel-writing thing doesn’t work out.”

Emily, the first one to sober up, managed to bring back the heaviness Quinn had aimed to dissipate with her bad joke. “Have you given any consideration to her claims? Even mean people don’t lie 100 percent of the time.”

Quinn didn’t hesitate. “Her allegations are as false as your platinum highlights.” She hadn’t questioned it once. From the bottom of her soul, she believed Vickie was lying.

Emily eyed her. “You’re biased because you’re in love with him.”

“No, I’m right because I’ve been living with the guy.”

Angie lifted her mug in a mock toast and tossed a wayward lock of golden-blond hair over her shoulder. “We didn’t come here to poke holes in Quinn’s personal judgment. We came to be supportive, remember? If she believes in Jack, so do I.”

Emily’s ugly smirk overshadowed Quinn’s smile. “Yes, well, I do question Quinn’s judgment. You would too if you’d been paying attention for the past year.”

One glance at her sister’s empty beer mug revealed the source of her loose tongue. “You’ve had enough.” Quinn pushed the mug away from Emily.

She snatched it back. “I’ve had enough, all right. You’re where? In England, writing some genre you’ve probably never even read, avoiding your family, sleeping with a virtual stranger, riding his foreign coattails into what, exactly? A publicity stunt?” She popped a bit of fried fish in her mouth. “You’re having a midlife crisis, Quinn. You need to get help. Talk to someone.” She skeptically regarded Angie. “A professional.”

Angie raised an imperious brow at Emily. “You ever consider she has good reason to avoid her family? Besides, we were discussing Jack, not Quinn. Get off her back.”

“This is about Jack,” Emily stated.

Quinn didn’t understand her sister’s sudden change in regard toward Jack. “What’s your problem, Em? I recall you telling me to hook up with him, now he’s the big, bad wolf?”

Emily gawked as if Quinn were the one not making any sense. “That was before we found out he was beating up his girlfriend.”

Angie glared at Emily. “You’re being a bitch. If we weren’t in a strange city on the other side of the globe, I’d drag Quinn out of here and tell you to get lost. It’d be easy. This ain’t L.A., sweetheart.”

Emily angled herself at Angie and held her hands out. “You said our job is to support her, right? You’re her best friend. Mine is to be realistic. You’re the one who says the dress flatters her curves, and I’m the one who tells her she looks fat. Because she does.” She switched her attention to Quinn. “You’re not fat. It’s a metaphor. I’m here to tell you the truth because no one else wants to be the bad guy. You’ve been in a downward spiral ever since the divorce. None of your recent life decisions have been made with any concern for your happiness or well-being.”

Quinn dared a peek at her best friend. She expected steam shooting from her ears. Instead, Angie bestowed Emily with a sweet smile and patted Quinn on the shoulder in a motherly way. “I finally figured it out. I’m afraid your sister has a terrible case of the greens. Simply put, honey, she’s jealous.”

“Jealous? I am
not
jealous.” The indignant protest went ignored.

“Little sister’s got it going on right now. Taking chances, doing crazy, bold things you’d never have the courage to do. She’s living, and you can’t stand it, can you?”

Emily’s nostrils flared. “I have never liked you.”

“Of course not. I lift Quinn up every time her realistic, Debbie Downer sister tells her she’s fat.” She gave Quinn a reassuring squeeze. “Metaphorically. Obviously. My point is, Emily, you bring her down.”

Emily jabbed a defiant finger at Angie. “You’re wrong. I remind her to use her brain. I was totally supportive of Jack until this story broke.”

“Sure. You wanted her to take a chance on a guy you were certain would break her heart. I dare you to tell me I’m wrong. Had she bothered to call me, her best friend, I’d have warned her away from a heartbreaker like Jack. Fun is fun, but spending so much time with him was asking for trouble, and you know it, Emily.”

Talking ceased. Angie waited patiently for Emily’s defense as Quinn stared at her sister.

A tiny corner of her heart broke. “You encouraged me to hook up with Jack because you wanted me to get hurt? You expect him to dump me?”

“Of course! You said it yourself, you’re no Vickie.”

“What kind of sister are you?” Up until now the back and forth had been amusing.

“The kind that wants you to wake up. You’re living in a fantasy. The real world is waiting for you back in California. I figured once you had your feelings hurt, you’d finally be ready to come home.”

Angie cut in. “In short, she wants you to stop getting global attention by dating a drop-dead gorgeous British movie star—”

“He’s Irish.”

“Even better. And stop doing cool stuff like living abroad. Her life is boring and predictable. I guess yours has to be, too.”

Emily let out an exasperated groan. “This guy is a joke. Ten to one says he’ll invite himself back to L.A. with you.”

“Oh, right, because he can’t be interested in me by my own merits?” Quinn shook her head. Worst sister
ever
. “Have you been talking to Blake? I swear, he said the same thing.”

Emily paused. Her face flushed a light pink. “Some. He’s concerned about you.”

Angie muttered in a disgusted tone, “Consorting with the enemy.”

How hilarious was Blake deciding to care now, and how frustrating to have her sister act as his conduit. Laugh now, cry later? Cry now, laugh later? Against her better judgment, she raised a hand to signal for another round. Let the beer decide.

Emily waved a dismissive hand. “It’s not a big deal. Nothing to get dramatic over.”

“I disagree. It’s a little dramatic you and Blake are bonding over your mutual concern for me. Blake’s got a new wife and baby to occupy his time, and you, surely you have something more important to worry about. Your job, maybe? Or your own love life to worry about at this point in your life?”

“You’ve changed. Of course we’re worried about you.”

Again, Angie jumped to her defense. “Blake’s only worried because he finally pissed her off enough to risk the income Quinn’s child support has been providing. He’s playing the long game, trying to get back on her good side so his new little wifey doesn’t freak out.”

Quinn bobbed her head. “Kira’s not going to like it one bit when those fat checks stop rolling in. Do you have any clue what I’m worth, or how much those checks come to? It’s no small amount, Em. Blake’s got an ulterior motive, no matter what’s he told you or how well he fakes being worried about me.” She rolled her eyes. “Concerned. Sure.”

Angie grinned. “Hey, maybe Blake’s swimming the green sea, too. They’re in cahoots of envy, not concern.”

Emily slapped her palm down on the table. “I am
not
jealous!”

Angie ignored her and cast a wide-eyed expression of wonder at the ceiling as if shocked the truth had eluded her for so long. “I mean, Kira used to be this ambitious go-getter, right? But now she’s this whiny, demanding lump on Blake’s pricey leather recliner. You know she hasn’t gone to work since the baby, right? It’s not about the money. Blake’s finally figured out he’s traded down.”

Emily gave her a sideways glance. “Oh, he has.”

Angie gawked. Quinn blinked. “Explain.”

Emily slumped in her chair. “I promised I wouldn’t say anything, but Blake is questioning his life choices. Kira has become a terror. He’s talked about divorce, but there’s the baby to consider. He doesn’t want to give up Hunter. Plus, Kira is nothing like you, Quinn. A divorce from her would be warfare.” Her dark brown eyes finally met Quinn’s. “Blake hasn’t admitted it, but it’s pretty clear to anyone paying attention. He wants you back. He’s not ready to do anything about it just yet, but he will. Count on it.”

A year ago she’d have gone weak at the knees. A year ago her deepest wish would be coming true. But a year was a long time. For Blake, it was too long.

“Is that why you’re so keen on rushing Quinn home?” Angie arched a brow, daring Emily to deny it.

The waiter arrived with their round, and Emily waited until they were alone again to confront Quinn. “Your place is with Blake. This is the chance to make your family whole again. Kira’s days are numbered. Help Blake win the battle against her, help him fight for both his sons.”

Angie actually reared back and laughed. “Oh, man. Yeah, Quinn, think about Seth, will ya? About how miserable he’s been this whole year with Blake, how easy his dad found it to destroy his life the first time around.
Do
think about Seth.”

Emily leaned forward. “Blake made a mistake, but I’m right about Seth needing a family. Blake isn’t the only one having trouble with him, and with his marriage on the rocky side he’s going to have even less time to focus on an angsty teenage kid. You can’t always count on me to be there. I’m out of town for work on a regular basis. He needs you, Quinn. His mother. He won’t tell me what’s wrong, but something
is
wrong.”

The keen edge of guilt pressed into Quinn’s gut. “In my heart, I blame Kira. She’s intentionally expanding the gulf that already exists between father and son.”

Emily shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I’ve had issues with Seth myself. You’ve been busy, and I haven’t had the opportunity to bring it up, but I’m telling you he’s got quite the attitude on him these days. Back talk, refusing chores, ignoring the rules. He’s not the easygoing kid you left behind. He’s different.”

“I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“Well, it is.”

Quinn pressed her lips together and came to a split decision. It felt wrong, even as she convinced herself it was right. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m going home early. An ending and a few edits are all I’ve left to do in the manuscript. Two weeks is sufficient time.” She swallowed hard. “I’m leaving when you do.”

Her sister sagely nodded, the wise older woman pleased to witness the wily young sprite has sown the last of her wild oats. “It’s for the best.”

Angie patted her shoulder. “How does it end? Your story?”

“Not this time, my friend. You’ll have to read it along with the rest of the world.”

Angie stuck out her tongue and stirred a smear of ketchup with her last french fry. “What does Jack say about you leaving early?”

Quinn swigged her beer. “I haven’t told him yet.” She hoped a shrug would add an air of nonchalance to the confession.

Angie didn’t fall for it. “You can’t be serious. You’re not leaving him, are you? Because of the Vickie thing? Have you considered the facts here? I mean, if they were making nice
—
or any kind of making, for that matter
—
why the allegations the next day? Seems to me he managed to piss her off even more. That’s a pretty good clue as to what they talked about.”

Quinn didn’t bother pointing out the obvious. She’d have to be
with
Jack in order to leave him. “This is about Seth. I did what I needed to do for myself. Now I need to do what’s best for my kid.”

Her best friend smiled the saddest smile she’d ever seen. “You might be throwing away something really special, Quinn.”

She tried for humor. “Well, if Emily’s right, he’ll either be glad I’m leaving or he’ll invite himself home with me.”

Emily bobbed her head. “Either scenario is likely. You’re definitely doing the right thing. Besides, you need to see for yourself how much Blake has changed.”

Angie scoffed. “Right. He wants to dump his new wife and let his ex-wife raise their child. After she funds the custody battle, of course. Sorry, Em, but he sounds like the same selfish bastard to me.”

Quinn agreed.

M
adeline Decker smiled brightly at her unexpected guests. “You boys hungry?”

Jack rubbed his hands together. “Famished. C’mon, lad. Let’s leave the adults to talk, shall we?” With an arm around Seth’s shoulder, he left Douglas Buzzly to fend for himself and guided the boy toward the kitchen, where he expected to find Dawn preparing lunch.

“But you’re an adult.”

“I’ve been told it’s a matter of some debate.”

A second set of introductions were made, and Dawn set the two of them to work on sandwiches and made her escape for the afternoon. Jack was effectively left alone with Seth.

Seth Cobb: part Quinn, part Blake. Part interesting, part terrifying.

As if he and Quinn didn’t have enough balls in the air, her family had chosen the most inopportune moment to drop in for a surprise visit. Maybe call first? Check the itinerary? There were undercurrents of unease between the two of them, and he needed time to smooth the waters. It was a difficult task made more impossible thanks to the morning’s events.

He took a deep breath and chided himself. One thing at a time. Probably best to start with the kid staring at him as if uncertain of his species.

Where to begin?

He sat at the dining table and invited Seth to do the same. “Let’s have a chat, what d’you say? There’s generally some sort of tiresome monologue before questions are invited, but let’s skip that part and go straight to Q and A. How ’bout it?”

Seth’s lip curled in confusion. “How about what?”

Nice job, Jack. Way to go.
“Questions. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Like, a million.”

“Time’s ticking, lad, ask away.”

“Okay, um, are you my mom’s boyfriend?”

Jack tapped his chin. “Tricky, that one. I’d like to be, though it largely depends on if your mum wants to be my girlfriend.”

“What about your other girlfriend?”

Vickie. “She’s not my girlfriend anymore. I dumped her.”

“How come?”

“She told some rather nasty lies. She’s not a very nice girl, I’m afraid.”

Seth’s eyebrows rose in the universal know-it-all manner of children. “My mom doesn’t lie.”

“I bet you’re right. Probably why I want her to be my girlfriend instead.”

The boy’s expression became one of mingled disgust and intrigue. “Do you guys, like, love each other?”

Jack bit back a laugh. “Question denied. It’s far too complicated and possibly even none of your business.”

Seth’s arms crossed over his thin chest. “My mom would tell me.”

“Good, we’ll let her fence that one. I’m rather interested in the answer myself.”

The boy uncrossed his arms and his shoulders slumped. Jack suspected their rapid-fire exchange was about to be traded in for something with a little more heft. “When will my mom get here?”

Jack slapped him on the back and peeked at the clock mounted on the wall over the butcher block. “Soon, lad.” He hoped she was having fun, but also wished she’d magically appear at his side and tell him the secret to unlocking her precocious child.

The lad proved to be an interesting conversationalist with a wide range of topics which he enjoyed discussing, but had a tendency to clam up if Jack asked a question too juicy. Basically, any inquiry regarding his father.

On the flipside, Jack was undergoing intense adolescent scrutiny and fielding questions with only awkward answers. Was he
supposed
to tell Seth he’d kissed his mum?

He’d find out too late, either way.

Lunch had passed and Jack’s mum kept insisting
—
through underhanded methods like wheeling out of a room the moment he entered it with Seth on his heels
—
that he ought to spend some time with the boy alone.

No big deal. Seth seemed content to sip a can of orange-flavored soda on the back porch.

He took in his surroundings with the observant eye of a writer’s son. “This room is pretty cool.”

A nice, safe topic. “It’s quite special. A bit like being inside and outside at the same time, isn’t it? I built it myself.” He paused. “Your dad ever build anything? Birdhouse, maybe? Deck in the backyard?”

He shook his head. “Is my mom on her way?”

Tit for tat. Just like his bloomin’ mother. Time to teach this kid a thing or two about being nosy. “What about your dad. You get on with him?”

“What do you mean?”

Jack grinned. “We’ve a bit of a cultural gap, don’t we? What I mean is, are you friends? Do you get along?”

He didn’t blink. “I ignore him. He ignores me, too.”

“Pretty typical of a working dad. What about Kira? You get on with her okay?”

“Same thing. I ignore her.”

A wee thing. The smallest hesitation before his answer tripped a wire somewhere inside Jack. Taking into account the lad’s suddenly shifty gaze, Jack was fairly certain he’d been lied to.

Interesting.

He sat back with one ankle propped on his knee and assumed the very image of nonchalant aloofness. “Sounds lonely. I bet you’re glad to have a baby brother to liven things up, eh?”

A shrug. “Hunter’s too small to do anything. I don’t hang out with him unless Kira makes me watch him or something.”

“Ah. Well, between the two of us, I’m no fan of your dad’s.” He hoped his confession might trip Seth into some kind of response
—
offense, agreement, or indifference, any of those would tell him a great deal. “But your stepmum, surely she’s not so bad?”

He turned on Jack with a you’re-kidding-me stare. “She’s the worst.”

Jack made a shooing motion. “Come now, that’s the whole evil-stepmother nonsense society has you brainwashed into believing. It’s not fair. You ought to give her a chance before throwing some pre-made label onto her back.” He emulated disappointment as he watched Seth from the corner of his eye.

The boy chewed the insides of his cheeks and studied the floor. Something obviously preyed on his young mind.

Despite Jack’s curiosity, he truly wanted to help. He’d hit on something here and, by mere default of not being a parent, might be able to squeeze it out of the kid and perhaps give him some kind of advice.

Then immediately betray him to his mother. No way he’d hide anything from Quinn. He’d learned that lesson the hard way already, thank you very much.

Seth’s moment of meditation allowed Jack the chance for uninhibited observation of his young guest. Did he get his thick, chocolate-brown hair from Blake or some other relative? The eyes belonged to the boy’s father. Hazel, like Quinn had said. More green than brown and striking. He’d be a good-looking young man once he emerged from the awkward cocoon of adolescence. For now, he was little more than big eyes and gangly limbs.

Finally, Seth cleared his throat and transferred his earnest gaze to meet Jack’s. “Actually, Kira
hates
me.”

Jackpot. Perhaps his true calling was investigative journalism. “Now, now, hate is an awfully strong word, lad. Maybe she only dislikes you.”

“No.” Seth adamantly shook his head from side to side. “She really does hate me. It’s got nothing to do with my mom, either. It’s because I found out something I wasn’t supposed to.”

Jack allowed his faux unconcern to fade. “Is that so?”

The boy nodded. He appeared to endure some internal struggle before taking in a shoulder-heaving gulp of air. “Kira has a boyfriend. I mean, not my dad. Someone else.”

Good thing Jack hadn’t picked his jaw up off the floor. It would’ve come back down with Seth’s next revelation.

“And Hunter? He’s not actually my dad’s baby. He’s someone else’s.” A guilty glance at the ground told Jack the rest.

The boy hadn’t told his father. Was Kira threatening him to hold his silence?

“Okay. All right. Let’s talk about this a bit.” Jack regained his composure, once more aiming for slightly aloof. “How did Kira find out about your discovery?”

“She caught me eavesdropping. It was an accident, I swear! I was walking to my room and I heard her from the hallway talking on the phone.”

It would’ve been easy to misunderstand a muffled voice. “What exactly did she say?”

“She said, ‘Blake won’t forgive me if he finds out Hunter isn’t his.’ ”

So much for theory number one. Hard to fudge a direct quote like that. “Well, how do you know she’s got a boyfriend? Is that who she spoke to?”

“No, because next she said, ‘It’s Carter’s baby, but he doesn’t know, either.’ Then she said something about seeing Carter next weekend, the same weekend my dad went to San Diego to meet a new client. I remember because I stayed with Aunt Em and almost told her everything.”

Jack propped his chin on his fist. This was some pickle he’d pried from Seth’s little fingers. He hadn’t tried too hard, which told him something else—it must’ve been weighing on the kid’s mind for some time. No wonder he’d run away.

Showing a spark he’d not yet demonstrated, Seth grinned. “It’s kind of funny sometimes. I mean, when Kira calls me a bastard. Because I’m not, but Hunter really is.”

Jack was floored. A teenaged kid smiling at the irony of being called a bastard by his evil stepmother. Quinn couldn’t write a more uncomfortable scene. “Does Kira ever call your dad a bastard?”

“Like, all the time. It’s probably her favorite thing to say. Why?”

Jack offered the boy a halfhearted smile. “No reason.” Except that he hoped Blake heard it a million times a day. Until the truth of it sank in.

 

Out of kindness rather than any sense of obligation, Quinn hoped, anyway, Madeline offered her home to Quinn’s family since her flat wasn’t large enough to accommodate them. Her dad, sister, and best friend had taken guest rooms at Madeline’s, and Seth took the love seat in Quinn’s office.

Besides the obvious wonderful reasons for having her son near, he provided the perfect buffer against Jack and his loaded glances.

He clearly wanted a discussion, but she wasn’t in any kind of mood for battle. Her armor and javelin needed a good rest and polish for when she figured out how to tell him she was leaving without making it seem like retaliation for his recent outing to his ex’s house.

Unless, of course, he wanted to fall on his knees, proclaim his burning love for her and demand babies.

Then she’d consider staying.

She awoke the next morning after a fitful sleep to find Jack had grown an extra appendage in the form of her son.

Seth had attached himself to Jack like a third arm, at his elbow as he explained Quinn’s coffee preference in exact specifications.

“Too much sugar and her nose scrunches up. Not enough, she frowns like there’s essence of cabbage in there.”

Quinn ignored him and sipped her perfectly mixed brew after bestowing a grateful smile on her son.

Seth didn’t notice. He watched over Jack’s shoulder as he prepared pancake batter. “Are you making bacon, too?”

Jack cast an amused glance Quinn’s way. They smiled together at Seth’s naked interest. “I certainly can, if you’d like, although I have to assume you mean
your
kind of bacon, which isn’t true bacon at all. Why don’t you get it from the icebox and find us another fry pan in the pantry.”

Seth stilled. “You want me to help?”

Jack shrugged. “If you want to. There’s probably some cartoons on the telly if you’d prefer to do that.”

“No, yeah. I mean yes, I’ll help. Usually, I only do the dishes.”

“Excellent. In return for your volunteer dish duty, I’ll show you my secret pancake recipe. Pancakes to make your mother cry. Now, the bacon, yes?”

“Hey, I didn’t—”

“Bacon, we need bacon! Come now, don’t dally.”

And another one bites the dust.

Quinn sipped and tried to dig up some surprise at how quickly her son had taken to Jack. Everyone took to Jack. Even Vickie, his worst enemy, fed the heart of her slandering crusade with the pain of his continued rejection.

Perhaps realizing the day was apt to provide few solitary moments with Quinn, Jack sent Seth on a small errand to fetch slippers he didn’t own and sidled over to her with exaggerated discretion. “We need to talk.”

“I don’t want to. I avoided you last night on purpose.”

“No, I mean it. We
really
need to talk.”

Her cell phone rang from the bedroom and she frowned in her best facetiously apologetic manner. “Sorry. I’d better get that.” She rushed into her bedroom and issued a short greeting on her way back to the kitchen.

“Hello? Oh, hi, Dad.” She half listened as he described plans for the day, which unexpectedly didn’t involve her, at the same time Seth returned and Jack launched into the finer details of flapjack flipping. “Sure, okay. Well, you guys have fun and tell Angie she’d better hurry up.”

Jack guided Seth’s movements with a ladle of batter. “See here? It’s an art requiring both patience and discipline.”

She addressed the two of them. “My dad claims she didn’t say as much, but it seems Emily isn’t keen on spending time with me.”

“Oh?” Jack lifted a brow. “And what will that charming sister of yours do to entertain herself?”

“Charming?” Seth regarded them doubtfully.

Quinn ignored him for diplomacy’s sake. “She bullied Dawn and your mother into taking them sightseeing. Angie remains true, though. She’s on her way over. You’d better expand that batch of pancakes by several.”

Jack frowned. “Mum’s ambition often outweighs her ability.”

“Don’t worry. Dawn won’t let Madeline overdo it. I daresay my dad wouldn’t, either.”

“Yes, and I suppose it’s about time she did something without me glued to her side.” He stopped and made a thorough inspection of the serving tray holding Seth’s first batch of fresh-off-the-griddle pancakes. “My, how lovely these are. Wherever did you learn to make such exquisite pancakes?”