All It Takes (Romancing Manhattan 2)

“You’re a bossy woman, Sienna.”

“No, I’m practical.”

Always practical. That should be my middle name.

“Text me your address. It’ll be closer to six thirty by the time I get over there, but I’ll bring dinner. Chinese okay?”

“General Tso’s chicken for me, please. See you then.” I hang up and stare at my sister’s car, wondering if I’ve just made a mistake. I can do this by myself.

But the help will be a godsend. Not to mention, Quinn’s easy on the eyes.

Which might be the biggest reason why this is a mistake. Not that I can’t keep my hands to myself, because I certainly can.

And I will.

That decided, I walk into my house and feel my eyebrows climb into my strawberry-blond hairline when I see Lou in my kitchen, cooking up a storm, and an army of shopping bags in my living room.

It’s a sea of colorful plastic and brown paper bags, covering every surface. Chanel. Bergdorf Goodman. Louis Vuitton. Saks.

She can’t afford this.

“Hi,” Lou says with a happy smile. She’s uncorking a bottle of red. “I’m so glad you’re home. I’m making you dinner, and I want to show off all the beautiful things I found today.”

“Louise.”

“I know, I should have waited until we could go together, but I just couldn’t, Si. I was too excited, and I found some seriously amazing things.”

“Lou, you can’t afford these things.”

“Of course I can.” She frowns. “I just inherited a quarter of a million dollars.”

“It sounds like way more money than it is, Louise. It doesn’t go far, and Grandpa left it to us to make sure we’re taken care of, not so you can go buy out Bloomies.”

“I didn’t make it to Bloomie’s today,” she says, but I just stare at her, and she finally sags her shoulders. “You’re making it a bigger deal than it is.”

“The money hasn’t even been paid out to us yet. And you’ll need to pay taxes on it. You don’t get to keep all of it.”

“My credit cards got a workout today.”

“Your credit cards were already maxed,” I remind her. Her cheeks flush with anger.

“I got extensions, Miss Goody Two-Shoes.” She slams the bottle of wine on the counter. “Why can’t you just be happy for me? Why do you always have to point out that you’re the perfect one and I’m the one who always screws up?”

“I’m far from perfect, and you don’t always screw up, but Lou, you can’t manage money. You’ll have your inheritance spent before you even get it, and then where will you be? Asking me or Mom and Dad for loans?” I use air quotes when I say loans.

“Mom and Dad help me because they want to.”

I blow out a breath and sit in a stool at my island. “You’re irresponsible, and it’s time you grow up, Lou. You’re too old to act like this. You’re not stupid. I don’t understand.”

“Retail therapy is a thing.”

“So is addiction,” I snap. “Grandpa never should have left that money to you. You’re going to waste it.”

“You know what, Sienna? Fuck you. I’m an adult, and I can spend my money any way I like. It’s none of your goddamn business.”

“You’re right, it’s not. Until you call me crying because you can’t pay your effing rent and need a handout. Then it’s suddenly my business.”

“I won’t be calling you again. For anything.”

She gathers her bags and storms dramatically out of my house, and I’m left with pasta boiling over on my stove and something smoking out of my oven.

Awesome.

Lou was making her famous ravioli, the only thing she can make. I turn all the heat off, get the bread out of the oven, and take in the mess I get to clean up.

Which is pretty standard when it comes to Lou. I love her more than I can say. Her heart is never malicious. But the woman couldn’t balance a checkbook if someone had a gun to her head.

And honestly, I’ve enabled that, because the tears get me every damn time.

Maybe if she doesn’t get any more handouts, she’ll figure her life out for herself.

I take a deep breath, and rather than clean it all up right now, I grab my keys and handbag and drive over to my grandfather’s house. I have keys and an open invitation from Dad and Uncle Patrick to come and go as I please during my investigation.

There’s no time to start like the present.

Chapter Four

~Sienna~

It’s six thirty-five, and I’m just running through my front door from the office. I’m late, and I’m never late.

But I got caught up in legal journals and research, and I didn’t get out of there when I planned to. Which wouldn’t normally matter, but Quinn should be here any second, so I won’t have time to change out of my suit. That’s okay, this is a professional meeting, and the more “professional” armor I have on, the less likely I am to climb Quinn like a tree.