said, her face lighting up. “No, I talked to them a little while ago. How are you? You did? Cool! Hang on a sec, the cell-phone service out here is horrible. Let me go down to the dock. Yes, there’s a dock, and no, it’s not what you’re picturing.”
She set her bag down and went around to the front of the house, the dog slinking beside her through the long grass.
And here was the thing. It irritated him. First of all, he’d spent the past few hours shoveling garbage on her behalf, and like some little kid who’d gotten an A on his paper, he wanted to show her. Think you could grow a pair, guy? his conscience asked. Secondly, message received. The Paragon calls, the minion can wait. Not that Ethan Mirabelli was a bad guy, based on James’s interactions with him over the years…friendly, successful, great father. That was the problem.
And third…she was down on the dock, and he hadn’t checked that out yet, and who knew if it was sturdy? What if she fell in? She was standing on it, and it hadn’t sunk, but he’d been too busy getting the water turned back on and clearing out her room to get to it.
She was laughing now. She sat on the dock cross-legged, looking every bit the upper-crust, beautiful, graceful woman she was. Oh, a little hair toss. Too bad the Paragon wasn’t able to see it.
“You’re an idiot,” James told himself. He went back inside—plenty more crap to shovel—and got to work.
But he checked on her every thirty seconds or so, just to make sure she hadn’t fallen in.
* * *
W HEN SHE HUNG UP with Ethan, Parker felt considerably cheered. The fact that he’d called made her feel less out of the loop. One thing to check in with your kid a couple times a day, another to have Ethan call her just to say hi. Maybe Lucy had told him she’d sounded lonely—and she’d tried not to, honest—or maybe, and more likely, Eth was a prince.
For about five minutes last summer, when Lucy had decided that she should marry some guy who wasn’t related to her dead husband, Ethan and Parker had thought about trying to be more than friends and parents of the same kid. After all, they laughed at the same jokes. They were both attractive. Once upon a time, they’d gotten it on with satisfactory physical results and a beautiful child. They were both single. Why not, right?
But whatever chemistry had once been between them had faded, and one kiss was enough to make them each rub their mouths with the backs of their hands. “You gave me cooties,” Ethan had said, and they’d ended up baking brownies and playing Scrabble.
It was too bad, in a way, because Ethan was pretty damn perfect. If he could clone himself and excise the part that had loved Lucy since he was nineteen years old, she was pretty sure he could be the One.
“What do you think, Beauty?” Parker asked. The dog had followed her without protest, James being the more obvious threat, but she wouldn’t make eye contact. Slowly, Parker put her hand out and stroked the dog’s cheek with one finger. So soft. “Good girl,” Parker said. “Good girl, Beauty.” The dog sidled closer to her, and a strange, sweet feeling filled Parker’s chest. She’d like to find the person who’d thrown her dog out of a moving vehicle and kick him in the nuts. Wearing her sharpest Jimmy Choo heels.
Parker looked up at the house and sighed. Time to get to work. There was Thing One, looking at her from the window— Hey! He’d taken the boards off the windows! Fantastic.
“Come on, girl,” she said to Beauty, standing up and heading up the short flight of stairs. The back of the house was barricaded by more junk—a table, boxes, a couple of plastic chairs, a tire—so she went around the front, the dog walking so close to her legs that Parker almost tripped.
She went inside and lurched to a halt.
“Holy halos, Thing One,” she breathed.
The hallway that yesterday she’d had to sidle down was completely empty. Wood floor. Grimy walls, a hole
She set her bag down and went around to the front of the house, the dog slinking beside her through the long grass.
And here was the thing. It irritated him. First of all, he’d spent the past few hours shoveling garbage on her behalf, and like some little kid who’d gotten an A on his paper, he wanted to show her. Think you could grow a pair, guy? his conscience asked. Secondly, message received. The Paragon calls, the minion can wait. Not that Ethan Mirabelli was a bad guy, based on James’s interactions with him over the years…friendly, successful, great father. That was the problem.
And third…she was down on the dock, and he hadn’t checked that out yet, and who knew if it was sturdy? What if she fell in? She was standing on it, and it hadn’t sunk, but he’d been too busy getting the water turned back on and clearing out her room to get to it.
She was laughing now. She sat on the dock cross-legged, looking every bit the upper-crust, beautiful, graceful woman she was. Oh, a little hair toss. Too bad the Paragon wasn’t able to see it.
“You’re an idiot,” James told himself. He went back inside—plenty more crap to shovel—and got to work.
But he checked on her every thirty seconds or so, just to make sure she hadn’t fallen in.
* * *
W HEN SHE HUNG UP with Ethan, Parker felt considerably cheered. The fact that he’d called made her feel less out of the loop. One thing to check in with your kid a couple times a day, another to have Ethan call her just to say hi. Maybe Lucy had told him she’d sounded lonely—and she’d tried not to, honest—or maybe, and more likely, Eth was a prince.
For about five minutes last summer, when Lucy had decided that she should marry some guy who wasn’t related to her dead husband, Ethan and Parker had thought about trying to be more than friends and parents of the same kid. After all, they laughed at the same jokes. They were both attractive. Once upon a time, they’d gotten it on with satisfactory physical results and a beautiful child. They were both single. Why not, right?
But whatever chemistry had once been between them had faded, and one kiss was enough to make them each rub their mouths with the backs of their hands. “You gave me cooties,” Ethan had said, and they’d ended up baking brownies and playing Scrabble.
It was too bad, in a way, because Ethan was pretty damn perfect. If he could clone himself and excise the part that had loved Lucy since he was nineteen years old, she was pretty sure he could be the One.
“What do you think, Beauty?” Parker asked. The dog had followed her without protest, James being the more obvious threat, but she wouldn’t make eye contact. Slowly, Parker put her hand out and stroked the dog’s cheek with one finger. So soft. “Good girl,” Parker said. “Good girl, Beauty.” The dog sidled closer to her, and a strange, sweet feeling filled Parker’s chest. She’d like to find the person who’d thrown her dog out of a moving vehicle and kick him in the nuts. Wearing her sharpest Jimmy Choo heels.
Parker looked up at the house and sighed. Time to get to work. There was Thing One, looking at her from the window— Hey! He’d taken the boards off the windows! Fantastic.
“Come on, girl,” she said to Beauty, standing up and heading up the short flight of stairs. The back of the house was barricaded by more junk—a table, boxes, a couple of plastic chairs, a tire—so she went around the front, the dog walking so close to her legs that Parker almost tripped.
She went inside and lurched to a halt.
“Holy halos, Thing One,” she breathed.
The hallway that yesterday she’d had to sidle down was completely empty. Wood floor. Grimy walls, a hole
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