Page 103 of Savage Suit

“Don’t let her be the one who got away. I’ll regret fucking up what I had with Quinn for the rest of my life.”

“She’s with you tonight. There must be some hope.”

Before he responded, Quinn returned. We lapsed into a momentary silence, until a question rose in my head.

“What happened to Ryan’s car?” I asked.

“Sandy is old,” Quinn answered. “She was old when Ryan bought her seven and a half years ago.”

“She named her car?” I asked, amused.

“Yeah. She doesn’t want to get rid of Sandy because it was the last thing Mama and Daddy helped her with. She doesn’t have the money for repairs, anyway.”

“She could get a driver,” I said.

Quinn glared at me. “How?”

“That came out wrong,” I amended. “I could send a driver for her.”

“Didn’t you hear—”

“Ryan is eligible for a driver as a KMG executive,” Reid inserted smoothly.

“No shit?” Quinn said, excitement lighting her face.

Reid nodded. “Yes. Truly.”

She pulled out her cellphone. A moment later, Ryan’s sleepy voice answered.

“What’s the matter, baby?” she said groggily. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Quinn chortled. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“About?”

“Do I need to have a particular subject, Ry? Maybe I just wanted to shoot the shit.”

“And maybe I need to kick your ass. It’s after two in the morning. I have to work in the morning.” She groaned. “Fuck, thanks to Sandy I’ll need to leave even earlier. Bye, Quinn. I want to go back to sleep.”

“No, wait!” Quinn whined. “Please don’t hang up. I’m lonesome.”

I glared at Quinn, but she put her finger to her lip, her eyes alight with mischief. For some reason, I followed her direction.

“You’re a fucking chameleon. When I walked into my apartment, you were slurring. Drunk as shit.” She paused. “Or high.”

“I wasn’t high,” Quinn said.

“You were drunk,” Ryan insisted, taking her sister at her word, and moving on. “Now, you sound as sober as a church mouse.”

“Clichés are awfully basic,” Quinn said.

“Goodnight, Quinn.”

“Bullshit will sober you,” Quinn said hastily.

“There was a lot of it flung your way, baby. I’m sorry I caught you in the crosshair of my poor decision. I thought Ingrid Warrington was reasonable, but Noah was so right. She was so unfair to him. She didn’t give him a chance to defend himself.”

“Her article didn’t exactly lie. Look how he treated you during your first interview. What did you call him? A savage suit? More than once, you’ve said he was an asshole.”