Authors: Kristan Higgins
Parker went over. “Hi,” she said, suddenly feeling shy.
“I’m so glad you could come!” Maggie said. Parker assumed it was Maggie, because she had on a Hello Kitty tiara. “Have you met my sister? This is Christy, and she refuses to get a big
C
branded onto her forehead so people can tell us apart. Really, Christy, you’re so difficult sometimes. This is Beth, who says you’ve already met her, and Chantal, our sister-in-law, and Luke, our nephew. Isn’t he beautiful?”
“Oh, he is,” Parker said, though admiring the child would mean staring at Chantal’s boob, which apparently was the thing to do.
“Glad you’re nursing, Chantal,” one of the men said. “Best for baby.”
“Oh, ayuh,” the others murmured from their trance.
“How’s Beauty doing?” Beth asked Parker.
“Oh, she’s good. Very shy, but she’s getting there.” Parker smiled. “Couldn’t let the poor thing be put down.”
Christy gave Beth a look. “I thought you never put animals down.”
“Sorry, Parker. I lied,” Beth said with a grin.
“Ah, well. She’s a great dog,” Parker said.
“Okay, girls,” Christy said, “let’s get our new pal here a drink. Dewey!” Parker jumped at the bellow. “Bring our friend a mojito!”
“Coming up!” Dewey was apparently the large man behind the bar. Didn’t look much like James, not that she could tell, anyway.
Christy leaned forward. “While we wait, ladies, let me tell you something. I saw the hottest guy in the
world
today, outside of my own husband, of course—”
“And Malone,” added Maggie.
“And your brother,” added Chantal.
“Disgusting,” chorused the twins, and all three of them laughed.
“Anyway, as I was saying,” Christy went on, “the
hottest
guy. Now, Parker, you don’t understand. This town is rather difficult. I had to import my husband from away. But locally, if you like surly alpha males, we had one, and sorry, Maggie got him.”
“It’s true,” Maggie confirmed, sucking up the last of her mojito. “He’s my surly alpha male.”
“And if you like irritating, lazy, annoying but cute guys,” Christy went on, “there was exactly one, and he’s our brother, and for some ungodly reason, Chantal married him. Otherwise, there’s Crazy Dave, named that for a reason, Pete Duchamps, our local alcoholic, and Mickey Tatum, our sixty-year-old fire chief. So a cute guy in town…this is big news.”
“This is incredibly exciting,” Beth said. “I can tell he’s my soul mate already.”
“Yes.” Christy nodded sagely. “Who is he, and how can we get him to marry Beth?”
Parker had a feeling she knew who the hot guy was. How many gorgeous new strangers could be bopping around a town of 1,400 people? “Dark hair? Red pickup truck?” she asked.
“Yes! You know him? Is he yours?”
“He’s mine. My nephew,” said the bartender, who’d arrived with a round of drinks. He looked down at her. “Hello. You must be Parker.”
She stood up. “Hi. Are you Dewey?” He nodded. “It’s really nice to meet you, and thanks for your help with the house. You’ve been great.”
“My pleasure, dear,” he said. “The least I could do for Jamie’s friend.”
“Oh, my gosh!
That
was Jamie Cahill?” Christy said. “He turned out
so
nice!”
“He’s a good kid,” Dewey said. “Not married. Drink up, girls, and have fun. Nice meeting you at last,” he added to Parker, then lumbered back to the bar.
“I’ve already seen Jamie Cahill, hugged him and copped a feel,” Chantal said. “Sorry, Christy, old news.” She popped the baby off her breast and covered up. “Show’s over, boys,” she said to her audience. “Who wants to burp him?”
“You take him, Maggie. I have my own little burp machine at home.” Christy smiled at Parker. “I have a two-year-old and a two-month-old, and I couldn’t get out of the house fast enough tonight. Shoved both of them at my husband, got in the car and floored it.”
Maggie practically lunged for the baby and kissed his fat little cheek before assuming the position and patting the baby on the back.
“So how do you know Jamie?” Christy asked.
Parker took a sip of her drink. “He worked for my dad, and he’s helping me flip a house. Over near Douglas Point.”
“The hovel just before the Pines,” Chantal supplied.
Parker gave a painful laugh. “That’s the one.”
“Is he seeing anyone?” Beth asked.
Parker paused. “Um, not that I know of.”
Though I almost kissed him the other night and have dirty thoughts of him hourly.
“If I weren’t happily married, et cetera, et cetera,” Chantal said, lifting an eyebrow.
“Sorry I’m late.” Lavinia plunked herself into the chair next to Parker. “I was watching Jim Cantore on The Weather Channel.
When Storms Kill
or some-such. I would do him in a New York minute. So. Who’re we talking about?”
“Dewey’s hot nephew,” Chantal said. “Jamie Cahill.”
“Little young for me,” Lavinia said.
“So what’s he like, Parker?” Maggie asked.
Yes,
said Spike.
Do tell.
“Well, he’s…he’s very handy.”
This set the women off in gales of laughter. “Speak of the devil,” Chantal said, adjusting a breast. “Jamie! Over here!”
Parker’s ears began tingling as James walked over. Christy gave him a hug; apparently he’d seen Maggie at the diner, knew Lavinia from his summers here and shook hands with Beth, which caused her to blush a fire-engine red.
“Jamie, this is my son,” Chantal said, reclaiming her little bundle. “Admire away.”
James looked at the baby, who gazed back, then spit up. “Very, um…well fed,” he said, smiling at Chantal. Then his gaze shifted to Parker, and Lady Land stirred. Bugger.
“Pull up a chair and charm us, James,” Chantal commanded. “It’s sort of Maggie’s shower.”
“I’ll make your drinks instead,” James said. “I told Dewey I’d help out tonight. But have fun, girls.” He turned and went back to the bar.
“Tell me you don’t want a bite of that,” Chantal said, watching him walk away.
“Preach it, sister,” Beth murmured.
“So, Parker, I have to ask you,” Christy said. “Are you the Parker Welles who writes those books about the angels?”
Parker took another healthy sip of her mojito. “Afraid so.”
“Someone gave me a few Holy Rollers books when Violet was born.”
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to pretend you like them,” Parker said easily. “They’re pretty nauseating.”
Hey! We have feelings!
The HRs pouted.
No, you don’t. You’re imaginary,
Parker countered.
“Was that the one where the kitten gets crushed by the tractor?” Maggie asked.
“That was my favorite one,” Lavinia said. “Cried like a baby.”
Thank you!
the angels chorused. At Parker’s questioning look, Vin added, “Hey. You’re my cousin. I did a Google search on you.”
Parker finished her drink. “Anyway. The series is over, thank God.”
“So what are you working on now?” Beth said.
“Um, I’m not really sure yet,” Parker said. “I have a few ideas.”
That’s great news!
the Holy Rollers cheered.
Yay, you!
If only.
“That dear boy is looking at you, Parker,” Chantal said. “You guys doing each other?”
“Ignore her,” Maggie said. “Chantal has sex on the brain.”
“It’s true. Your brother is a happy man,” Chantal answered, raising a perfect eyebrow.
“No more sex talk about our brother!” Christy ordered.
Parker laughed. “No, it’s not like that. He’s my father’s lawyer.”
“So?” Chantal asked. “He’s living with you. Have you seen him naked yet?”
“No! And even if I was interested—”
which you totally are
“—he’s got the triple crown of no against him,” Parker said. “Younger, unemployed, um…”
“Impotent?” Christy asked.
“Prison record?” Beth offered.
“Married to the church?” Maggie said.
“Oh, he’s not impotent,” Chantal murmured, raising an eyebrow. “At least—” she paused for effect “—he wasn’t.”
“Oh, Chantal. Are you kidding?” Maggie asked.
“Hey, somebody had to do it. He was seventeen, and
so
cute.” Chantal grinned, and Parker felt an odd twang of…something. Another sip of mojito fixed that.
“Okay, time for a subject change,” Maggie announced. “Let’s leave poor James alone and talk about something else. I wear the crown of Kitty, so I’m the boss.”
“And such a lightweight,” Christy added.
“True. So, Parker, are you married? You have a little boy, right?”
“Nope, never married,” she said. “My son is five. Nicholas Giacomo Mirabelli.” She fished out her phone so Nicky’s sweet face could be admired.
“Is there a story of forbidden love here? Or did you get knocked up, like me?” Chantal asked, peering at the photo. “He’s beautiful.”
“Nothing wrong with getting knocked up,” said a male voice. “Chantal never would’ve married me if I hadn’t knocked her up, right, babe?”
“Jonah, shush,” Maggie and Christy said in unison, then laughed.
“You shush, girls,” he retorted. “You’re both love children, too. I’m the only child Mom and Dad really wanted.” He turned to Parker. “Hi. Jonah, long-suffering brother of the idiot twins here. I’ve seen you out on your dock.”
“Go away, Jonah,” Maggie commanded. The pink-beaded tiara she was wearing was slightly askew. “Go to the boys’ section. This is for women only. Shoo.”
“You two are ugly when you drink.” He bent down and kissed Chantal. “See you at home, gorgeous.”
“Bye, honey.” Chantal beamed up at him and patted his ass as he walked away.
“Disgusting,” Christy said.
“So gross,” Maggie added. “So anyway, you were telling us, Parker, before my brother so rudely interrupted?”
“Well,” Parker said, “let’s say I have this thing for emotionally unavailable men.”
The table burst into laughter. “Please. You have no idea who you’re talking to,” Maggie said. At Parker’s questioning look, she added, “I was in love with a priest.”
“Okay. That’s hard to top,” Parker acknowledged.
“And I shtupped my best friend’s baby brother. Have I mentioned Jonah is thirteen years younger than I am?” Chantal said, smiling. “Cougar, baby. The only way to go.”
“And I slept with a certain married Massachusetts senator whose last name starts with
K,
” Lavinia said. “Wasn’t really worth the effort, I’d have to say.”
“So how was your guy emotionally unavailable?” Maggie asked.
“It sounds worse than it is, but he was in love with someone else,” Parker said. “And I didn’t figure it out until after Miss Egg and Mr. Sperm met, so I have a five-year-old, and we have joint custody, and it’s all very friendly and civilized.”
Huh. Her second mojito was gone.
The last time you had two drinks and Sweet Baby James was around, you did the drag-and-shag,
Spike, now in his early twenties, pointed out.
Speaking of cougars. Just sayin’.
“So have you dated at all?” Beth asked. “It’s hard to find a decent guy these days.”
“Nope, haven’t really dated. Maybe a first date every few months, but nothing real,” Parker said.
“You haven’t had sex since your five-year-old was born?” Chantal asked, her mouth hanging open in horror.
This was, of course, the moment that James brought another round of drinks over.
“That’s awful,” Lavinia said, shaking her head. “Thank you, James, darlin’.”
Parker didn’t answer. James put a glass in front of her. “Thanks,” she said, not daring to look at him.
“Anything else, girls?” he asked, his voice warm and smiley.
“Would you take off your shirt?” Christy asked. “We didn’t get Maggie a stripper.”
He laughed, and the sound scraped something deep down in Lady Land. Something that
liked
being scraped. James had almost kissed her the other night. Right? It had seemed to her that a kiss had been possible, there on the dock, before the thunder, when she’d bolted like a scared little baby horse.
Okay. No more mojitos. Who referred to themselves as scared little baby horses? Mojito-enhanced people, that’s who.
James looked down at Parker, who decided that now would be an excellent time to drain that mojito. The straw stuck her in the eye, but she squinted and managed a swallow or two.
“I’ll walk you home when you’re ready,” he said.
“No need, Thing One,” she said sweetly. “I’m fine. I can canter on home all by myself.”
He laughed, and there it was again, that scraping.
Meow.
“I’ll do it anyway.”
All righty, then. If he insisted. He could walk her home. He was paid by Harry to walk her home, she reminded herself. No matter how cute he was, no matter how smiley were those eyes, he was in Harry’s pocket, and Harry was in jail and not a nice person, and James was here to babysit her and assuage Harry’s conscience. Sex would not be part of the equation.