Free Just Desserts by Tricia Quinnies

are whipped,” he shouted down.
    Quinn flipped him the bird, then walked, started jogging, and ran down to the lake.
    Not out of breath when he reached the back of the boathouse, but his heart and adrenaline pumped so hard he got a head rush. He used the wall as a crutch and inched his way toward the boat landing. Turning the corner, he saw Sadie, slumped over a cooler on the opposite side. He ran over. She’d baked in the sun, like Paul almost had yesterday? Another Doug?
    His levity disintegrated when he saw her leg. It looked like someone had sharpened a machete on her shin.
    Quinn stripped off his tee shirt and wrapped it around her shin as lightly as possible, cradled her in his arms then trekked back up to the mansion. She gurgled something that sounded like, beer, and held him tight around his neck. He accidentally copped a feel when he cupped her rear end.
    “Per-vert,” she slurred.

Chapter Nine
     
    Most of Sadie’s usual pale skin had reddened from the sun, except for her lower left leg. It was bloody and swollen. Quinn thought it looked worse than the horrible liver.
    Sadie had mumbled jibes in his ear the entire way back to his temporary residence on the estate—the one-time servants’ quarters, which his great-grandfather had turned into a game room. She made little sense, but Quinn knew she wouldn’t die. She couldn’t die yet. At least until she had the chance to bust his balls for what a jerk he’d been. And, since she begged for beer, he figured she only suffered from mild dehydration.
    Quinn couldn’t decide where to lay her in the living room. The leather sofa seemed too rough and he didn’t want to chance it touching her tendered skin. But the bedroom…that seemed riskier. So he paced in the middle of the room with Sadie cradled in his arms and tried like hell to ignore her breasts, spilling out from a white lacey bra and low low-cut frilly tank top.
    He sat down on the couch with her nestled against his chest. She rubbed her cheek against his bare chest. She came to and blinked in confusion at him. She took in her surroundings and wiggled about in his lap. His T-shirt, spotted with blood stains, dangled on her shin and then fell to the floor.
    “Ow, damn it.” She sat up. “Where am I? Some kind of South African pool hall?”
    “It’s the game room. The old man hunted, explored, and liked safaris.”
     
    ***
     
    Sadie shuddered at all the mounted animal heads bordering the room. There were enough moose, water buffalos, and deer antlers to trot a dozen Santa sleighs…if they’d had legs. “You sleep here? A vegetarian sleeping amongst wild game? That’s a hoot.” She laughed and then bumped her leg against the leather. “Ow. Stupid pier. And your coolers. If it weren’t for your ding dang party, I’d be home making the raspberry sauce for the diner’s fig dessert.”
    Quinn picked up his T-shirt and threw it on an ornate stain glass coffee table. “Take it easy. You need to wash off your shin. Clean it out.”
    Sadie eyed him skeptically and slid off his lap.
    “Follow me.” He stood and held out a hand to help her up.
    She grasped his hand and hopped off the sofa on her one undamaged leg. He squeezed her fingers. Then she followed behind him, hobbling down a long corridor dimly lit by Tiffany glass sconces on dark wood paneled walls.
    With each step she took, her shin throbbed. She dropped Quinn’s hand and stopped to rest.
    Quinn picked her up and carried her down the rest of the hallway and into a pristine bathroom tiled with tumbled marble.
    “This is amazing.” She ogled the sunken tub beside the enormous wood-paneled sauna and shower. “I could live in here.”
    Quinn set her on a teak bench and swung open the doors of a monstrous black lacquered armoire in the corner of the bathroom. He pulled out a pile of plush towels, a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo. “I’m in and out of here so fast every morning I barely notice it.”
    “Really? It’s like a