Chapter 36

“We’re quarterbacks, damn it,” said Tam, who was famous for his mellifluous audibles at the line of scrimmage. “We should be able to talk over this din.”

“Well, all I know is I’m a real Chatty Cathy,” Brenna said. “If I can’t talk over this, no one can.”

“What did you say?” Quinn asked.

The jungle centerpieces didn’t help. Trying to lip-read as guests bobbed and weaved around the towering topiary was hopeless. Finally, Quinn was able to motion to Tam and Brenna, who wandered with him into a conservatory that was one of the few serene spaces in the house.

“At last,” Brenna said, settling in, “some peace and quiet.”

But not for long. “Brenna Catherine,” her mother barked as she poked her head into the solarium. “Stop flirting with men half your age and come listen to this fabulous freelance assignment Vienne has that only you can do.”

Brenna looked at Quinn and Tam. “Just kill me now,” she said.

When she left, Tam turned to Quinn and said, “Shall we?”