All the Right Places (RILEY O'BRIEN & CO #1) (27 page)

Quinn scowled and threw down his phone on the kitchen island when he got Teagan’s voicemail for the fifth time. He hadn’t talked to his sister since he’d asked for Ava Grace’s phone number earlier in the week. Surprisingly, she’d handed it over without a single question.

He tunneled his hands through his hair. He needed to talk with Teagan and Cal before he left for Nashville, and he had hoped they would come over for takeout tonight.

His phone dinged, and he saw a voicemail from Teagan. They must have called each other at the same time.

Her voice came over the line, her message succinct. “Quinn, I’m taking some time off. I’ll be back around Thanksgiving. My team has everything under control. I’m not going to be available via email or phone. Bye.”

He stared at his phone.
What the fuck?
It was only the first week of November, and Thanksgiving fell during the last week of the month.

This wasn’t like Teagan at all. She never took vacation for more than a few days at a time. And she never was out of touch.

He placed a call to his mother. “Mom, have you talked to Teagan?”

“Hi, honey. I was just thinking about you. I tried a new recipe for lemon meringue pie and—”

“Mom,” he interrupted, “have you talked to Teagan?”

Kate was obviously taken aback by his rudeness because she didn’t answer for several seconds. “Not since yesterday. We got our nails done. We had a lovely time. But you’ll never guess who we ran into. Nick.”

“Did she tell you that she was taking a trip?” he asked and then frowned in confusion. “Nick who?”

His mom laughed. “Priest,” she replied. When he didn’t respond, she added, “You know, your best friend.”

His frown deepened. “You ran into Priest in a nail salon?”

His mom laughed again. “No, honey. He was outside. I’m pretty sure he was waiting for somebody.”

He shook his head. “I don’t care about Priest right now. Teagan left me a voicemail that she’s taking the next three weeks off. Did you know about this?”

His mom made a
tsk
ing noise. “She should have asked for your permission. You’re her boss.”

“Mom,” he groaned. “Focus! I don’t care about that. She never takes off for more than a couple of days, and she didn’t say where she was going. I’m worried.”

“Quinn, honey, you need to stop worrying about everyone.” Kate sighed. “She talked to your dad this morning and gave him all the details. She asked him not to tell anyone so she could be off the griddle.”

Quinn rubbed his forehead, the anxiety draining out of him. “You mean off the grid. She’s not a pancake.”

Kate laughed, and he imagined her waving her hand at her mistake. “Do you want to come over for dinner? Cal’s coming.”

“With Saika and Valerie?”

“No, sweetie. It’s just him.”

Her answer made his heart sink. He wanted his brother to be happy, and it wasn’t good news that Saika and Valerie weren’t accompanying Cal.

“What’s for dinner?”

•   •   •

The spicy aroma of lasagna teased Quinn’s nose as he let himself into his childhood home. His stomach rumbled
loudly. His mom wasn’t Italian, but you’d never guess it from her cooking.

Following the delicious smell into the kitchen, he found his mom chopping vegetables for a salad. She smiled when she saw him, her blue eyes lighting up.

“Hiya, handsome.”

He returned her smile. “Hi, Mom,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Where are Dad and Cal?”

“Dad’s upstairs resting, and Cal’s out on the deck,” she answered, gesturing toward the French doors with her knife.

“Whoa! Easy with the knife!” he exclaimed, moving several feet away from her. “You almost sliced off my ear.” He cocked his head. “Is Dad doing okay today?”

She nodded. “Yes, he’s fine. You know he loves to take naps on Sunday afternoon.”

He shrugged off his leather jacket and hung it on the back of one of the chairs grouped around the farmhouse table. A bright blue vase filled with daisies sat in the middle of the table.

He smiled. He’d bet his last dollar his dad had given them to his mom.

Kate loved flowers, and for as long as Quinn could remember, James had brought her a bouquet every Wednesday. He never had them delivered. He believed flowers should be presented in person. When he had been weakened from his cancer treatment, he’d asked his kids to buy the bouquets so he could continue to surprise his wife with flowers.

“Do you need any help with the salad?”

She laughed. “Sweetie, the last time you helped me, you almost cut off your finger.”

He scowled. “That was because Teagan ran into me, Mom.”

He let his gaze wander the kitchen. It was different from the one he’d grown up in because his mom had renovated it right before his dad had gotten sick. It reminded him a lot of his own kitchen with its shiny, commercial-grade appliances.

The big difference was the light green cabinets. When his mom had first shown him the color sample for them, he’d wondered if her good taste had deserted her. But once the cabinets were installed, they had looked great.

The most interesting thing about the kitchen was the light
fixture. Made from at least twenty mason jars of different sizes, it hung over the butcher-block island like pendant lights.

A bakery box on the granite counter caught his attention, the pink and white stripes and brown script lettering instantly recognizable. Crossing the kitchen, he opened the box to find a variety of Babycakes treats including their famous red velvet cupcakes.

He stared down at the gastronomic delights, smiling when he thought about Amelia’s mouth covered in icing at the chocolate festival. But the smile slipped from his face as a huge wave of loneliness crashed over him.

He missed Amelia. He missed her Texas twang, her sweet smile, and her brown-sugar freckles. He missed the peace she gave him when he was with her, the sense he was exactly where he was supposed to be. It was easier for him to breathe when she was with him, easier for him to face the day and all the problems he had to solve.

“Don’t you dare!” his mom exclaimed fiercely from her place by the island. “Those cupcakes are for dessert.” She pointed toward him with the knife. “You’ll ruin your dinner.”

Rolling his eyes, he closed the bakery box. “I think I just regressed to a ten-year-old boy.”

In response, she gestured toward the stainless steel fridge. “Grab a beer and go keep your brother company. He’s moping.”

He nodded. “I think it’s going to get ugly.”

She gave him an assessing glance. “I think so, too. All three of my children are in love, and apparently it’s not all wine and roses.” She tilted her head toward the French doors. “Now get out of my kitchen.”

He frowned. “What? Teagan’s in love?” he asked incredulously. “Since when? And do we know him? Or her?”

Kate snickered. “Why don’t you worry about your own love life? By the way, how is Amelia?”

He cleared his throat. “How did you know?”

This time it was his mom who rolled her eyes. “Please.”

When it was obvious she wasn’t going to elaborate, he grabbed two bottles of Anchor Steam, popped them open, and joined Cal on the redwood deck. He set the beers down on the weathered patio table before dropping into the seat next to his brother.

Cal’s USC baseball cap shadowed his face, and when he looked up, Quinn noticed his eyes were bloodshot. He felt a rush of anger toward Saika that she was making his brother so miserable. He wanted to tell her that she’d never find a better man than Cal, but he had a feeling she already knew that.

Propping his leg on his knee, Quinn took a swig of his beer. “Are you aware our sister has gone MIA?”

Cal shot him a quizzical look. “What are you talking about?”

“She left me a voicemail that she’s taking some time off and she won’t be back until Thanksgiving.”

Cal pushed back the brim of his cap. “No shit?”

“Yeah. And then she told me that she wouldn’t have access to phone or email.”

His brother’s eyes widened. “Where did she go?”

“I have no idea. She told Dad, but she asked him not to tell anyone.”

“Bebe probably knows where she is,” Cal said, his mouth turned down in a frown.

Cal and Teagan’s best friend, Bebe, didn’t like each other much, although no one could figure out why. Most women loved his younger brother, but Bebe was nice to everyone
except
Cal. He, meanwhile, insulted her with every word that came out of his mouth.

“I don’t want to track Teagan down and ruin her vacation. I just think it’s weird. Don’t you?”

Cal nodded before taking a pull on his beer.

“Mom says Teagan’s in love,” Quinn said.

Cal choked, falling into a coughing fit. Finally, he caught his breath and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Did you have to wait to tell me that until I had beer in my mouth?”

Quinn smiled. “They say timing is everything,” he said, laughing when Cal glared at him.

“So who is she supposedly in love with?”

“I have no idea,” he answered with a shrug.

“Too bad she’s not here. You could hold her down while I tickled the truth out of her. And then we could beat up the guy.”

Quinn chuckled. Teagan was incredibly ticklish, and he and Cal had shown her no mercy when they’d been younger. They sat in companionable silence, enjoying their beers until his gaze fell on Cal’s tablet. It was face down on the table.

“What were you looking at?” he asked.

“A report on the social media buzz generated from Priest’s ad campaign.”

“How’s it going?”

“Much better than I ever could have imagined.”

“What do you mean? Didn’t you think the campaign was going to be successful?”

“We knew Priest was popular with guys, and since we were looking to increase awareness with men and improve sales for the men’s line, he was a great fit. But women love Priest. Apparently he has universal appeal, and we’re getting buzz from female consumers.”

Quinn recalled Amelia’s comments about the pro football player. Universal appeal was one way of putting it.

“So you expect a bump for the women’s division, too?”

“No. The buzz is for our men’s jeans, which makes sense when you think about Shelby’s point that women buy clothes for their men. Hell, a lot of wives pick out their husbands’ entire wardrobe. The guys never even step inside a store.”

Quinn considered what Cal had said. He had chosen his own clothes since he was a teenager, and no one he’d dated had ever commented on his clothes, nor had they tried to change his style. Luna had been his longest relationship, and the most personal gift she had given him was a hardback novel by his favorite mystery author.

He figured Amelia would definitely have an opinion about his clothing. Strangely, the idea of her telling him what to wear didn’t bother him at all. He was glad Cal didn’t know what he was thinking, though, because his brother would say something like “You’re so whipped, your girlfriend dresses you.”

“Speaking of female consumers, Amelia showed me her sketches for the accessories line on our way to Georgia.”

“Were they any good?”

“They were really good. Unfortunately, I don’t think they’re enough to save the women’s division.”

Cal opened his mouth, but then closed it without speaking. He rolled his lips inward until they were nothing but a flat line.

“Nothing to say?” Quinn asked.

“Maybe later,” Cal muttered, “after I’ve had a few more beers.”

Quinn shrugged. He wasn’t going to push the issue. Cal would talk when he was good and ready. Badgering his younger brother had never achieved anything.

Changing the subject, Quinn announced, “I’m flying to Nashville on Tuesday morning.”

“Business or pleasure?” Cal asked innocently, his blue eyes sparkling with devilry.

“Pleasure. I’m going to surprise Amelia and attend the awards show with her. She was going to be in the audience by herself because Ava Grace is performing and presenting.”

“What does one wear to a country music awards show?” Cal asked, pulling his baseball cap down over his eyes. “A tuxedo with rhinestones on the lapels?”

Quinn laughed. “I’m not sure. I wish I could ask Amelia but that would spoil the surprise.”

Cal rose from his chair and headed toward the sliding glass door. Pausing with his hand on the doorknob, he slanted an amused glance over his shoulder.

“Brother, you are so whipped you
want
your girlfriend to dress you.”