Everlasting (Family Justice Book 6)

by Suzanne Halliday

  “Word. That guy is like Zeus or something.”

  She snickered. “Did you just compare your boss to his dog?”

  Jace laughed. “Not that Zeus, you twit. The big kahuna. King of the gods. Him. Alex Marquez is a lot like that. His presence makes the lesser gods genuflect.”

  “Well said.”

  He scooped one last mouthful of nachos and wiped his hands on his jeans. Remy had to laugh. Jean-Claude would never have done anything so déclassé.

  “I’m out.” He pointed at the pile of parts for the computer desk that was probably toast. “Oh, and about that. I read in Cosmo that giving us manly men a reason to strut our tool belts is in the top ten of female wiles.”

  “Female wiles? I don’t know what that means.”

  Jace made a face and hooted. “Shit, Remy. What the fuck? Time to get your flirt on, guuurlfriend.”

  She snicker-laughed and opened the apartment door. “I hate the way you say that.”

  “Guuurl, I know!” The playful taunt earned him an arched brow as she pointed her finger at the door.

  He kissed her cheek as he passed by. “Call Finn. Tell him you broke a nail and need his help.”

  She shrieked with outrage while he laughed and took off.

  “Call Finn about a broken nail. Harumph.” She grunted. As if!

  Turning the TV off, she dropped the remote and picked up the nacho plate. It only took a couple of minutes to tidy up, but every so often, her eyes drifted to the unassembled desk.

  Was it time to get her flirt on? It couldn’t hurt. Finn was easy. Plus, he knew where the line was and had never, not once, stepped over it.

  Butterflies swooped and circled in her gut. If she invited familiarity and couldn’t handle it, then what?

  Finn was an arrogant, stuck-up, smug shithead. But he’d been a friend—as much as she’d let him. Using him as target practice, knowing shit could go south pretty quickly was a twunty thing to do.

  She chewed her lip. The pile of desk pieces didn’t move.

  Stomping into the tiny kitchen, she ripped her phone off the charger and let out a deep sigh.

  She pulled up her contacts, found Finn’s name, but then hesitated.

  Text or call?

  Texting was a pussy move, and she wasn’t a pussy.

  She tapped the call button and put the phone to her ear.

  Panic seized her, and she very nearly ended the call before it went through, but when her gaze drifted across the picture of the fiery phoenix she had under a magnet on the refrigerator, her spine stiffened.

  When the dark times came, the fire hadn’t consumed her—it had only made her stronger.

  She could do this.

  A voice came across the phone making a husky growl. “Ah, Remington. I was just thinking about you.”

  Asshat, her mind screamed. She smiled and shook her head.

  “Hello, Finn. Got a minute?”

  3

  “Jeez Louise, Soph,” Parker drawled. “Are you planning to lick the plate?”

  She rocked back in her chair and had a good laugh because the way she attacked and then inhaled the chopped brisket sandwich and crispy fries made licking her empty dish a distinct possibility.

  “I know, right?” She laughed. “Blame that shithead Finn O’Brien. He missed his calling. Is it too late to get him on one of those chef competition shows?”

  The way Parker Sullivan’s brows bumped together and the dark, pissy look he shot at the bar told Sophie all she needed to know about her friend’s feelings toward her sister-in-law’s brother.

  Finn was one of those people who either inspired love or hate with very little wiggle room between. Parker appeared to have his ass firmly in a hate adjacent category. Finding the situation funny, she whined like a bitch until he gave in and agreed to meet her for lunch at Whiskey Pete’s. Was she messing with her old friend? Totally.

  Patting her growing belly, she let out a little snort. “Waldo likes meat and anything greasy.”

  “Please tell me you’re not going to call this kid Waldo. Your father would have a stroke.”

  “Get real.” She snickered. “Dad is so freaking chuffed over the whole grandfather thing that he’d be fine if I named my son Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah.”

  “Uh-huh.” He scoffed. “And what about Aunt Ashleigh? Or Carmen? Good luck getting a bullshit name past those two.”

  “Hey, speaking of Carmen. What’s the story with her? Is she bumping uglies with Alex’s security chief?”

  Parker slapped his thigh and laughed. “Bumping uglies? Sophia Marquez! Who taught you to be so snarky?”

  “That honor belongs to both my mother and yours.”

  They fist bumped and shared the laugh. It was good to hang out with Parker again. It had been a long, long time.

  Pushing her plate and napkin to a corner of their table, she leaned forward on her elbows and folded her hands.

  “So back to business, Counselor. Are you sure there are no loose ends? I want everything nailed down tight before the baby comes.”

  “Not to worry,” he assured her. “I’ve got the Valleja-Marquez Trust on lockdown. You’re all set. What’s the housing plan for you and junior? I’m sure living with the ‘rents is a ton of fun.”

  “Oh! Hold up,” she squawked. “Speaking of parents, what the hell is with Aunt Wendy? Did you realize those two have an app or some nonsense that sends them alerts when anything wedding or baby goes on sale within a hundred-mile radius? I’m serious, Parker. Our moms might need an intervention.”

  He was having a nice chuckle, and she enjoyed his pleasure. She’d always adored her quasi-cousin-slash-half-brother-slash-whatever and had missed him during her time in Europe.

  Of course, she didn’t adore him quite as much or as faithfully as her little sister. Seeing Angelina and Parker firsthand and their very cool and super romantic happy ever after was part of why she was glad to be home. Until the first time she dug her toes into the Arizona ground, felt the sun on her face, and inhaled the familiar scents, she hadn’t fully appreciated how much of home this place represented.

  “Dad bitches about the fire going on with his credit card, but it’s all a farce. Shit, Soph. I’ve never seen them so happy. Me and Ang figuring our shit out is a big part of it but the rest? Alex and the twins. You and your folks coming back to the States. A surprise grandling too.” He looked at her with wide-eyed wonder. “They’re like kids again. Out every night. Running all over the place. If my mom wants to bring in the damn Mormon Tabernacle Choir to serenade us at the wedding, I’m cool with it.”

  “I’m so happy for you two. Seriously,” she barked when he made a face. “Came mighty close to that fuck-up being permanent.”

  “Alex almost killed me. Did you know? It got heated.”

  “I know this is hard for my big brother to understand, but he can’t control or fix everything.”

  She patted her tummy.

  “Wanna discuss it?”

  Sophie knew that coming home the way she did and presenting everyone with a fait accompli in the form of a surprise pregnancy, she’d have to face this conversation with those she was closest to.

  “Just this once, Parker—and then never again. That noise isn’t in my head anymore, and it’s going to stay that way. But I understand some people may have questions. Or concerns.”

  He nodded and leaned on his elbows. She waited patiently while the good lawyer decided how to proceed.

  His first question was his only question, and she loved him all the more for it.

  “Are you happy?”

  “More than I could ever explain.”

  He would politely leave it at that, but she had a little bit more to say.

  “Sometimes, it takes a shock. Or a surprise. Like an angel falling out of the sky,” she said with meaning, “to unlock a future thought out of reach. Did I ever really think that one day I would wake up and leave the past behind—start over? From scratch? No. But I knew in here,” she told him with a han
d over her heart, “the life I wanted. The life that could have been mine if not for—what happened.”

  He reached for her hands and held tight.

  “The decision to be a parent and go through a pregnancy alone may seem scary, but it isn’t. Not at all. The whole thing freed me, Parker. For real. I’m going to be a kickass mom, and we’re going to have a great life. Right here. Arizona is where I’m making my stand.”

  “Which brings us back to your housing needs. What are you thinking, Soph? What’s going to work for you and Zippy? Alex is making all kinds of noises about building you a place at the Villa.”

  “Nah. You know what? That’s not going to happen, and here’s why. I love the Villa. Love going there. Love the whole vibe. Big brother is welcome to his little desert kingdom, though. For me, living there would lessen the emotional impact, and I don’t want to lose that.”

  “I never looked at it that way.”

  “It’s a special place, but I want a house in the ‘burbs. Near a good school. In a neighborhood with kids. And I want to work.” She waved off his immediate grumbling. “I’m a worker bee. That’s how it is. Doing nothing would not be healthy. But obviously, as a single parent, full time would be out of the question.”

  “Any thoughts on the matter?”

  “Oh, lord. Well, here’s the thing.” She stopped and looked around. Was she about to share confidential information? Sophie paused and worried her lip and then thought, Aw, fuck it. Alex barely takes a shit without Parker handing him the toilet paper. If he doesn’t know this now, he will soon anyway.

  “I’ve been talking to Meghan about helping at the Double M. She got the family center built and open for business, but the twins are taking a toll on her. I thought maybe I could help. I mean, after all, that’s sort of my shtick. Running things—understanding systems—developing plans.”

  She could tell by his non-reaction that this wasn’t news.

  “Meghan is a natural dynamo,” he said, “but being pregnant took the wind out of her sails. I think you helping with the Double M might be a godsend.”

  “I’ll help any way I can. She’s so amazing. I can’t even.”

  A resounding thud made them both flinch and then turn toward the sound. The entrance to Pete’s, a sold barn door with iron accents, swung open and hit the side of the building. A stream of bright light illuminated the area around the door.

  A guy she knew as Grey, who worked the bar during the lunch crowd, scurried to the commotion. Expecting a squadron of burly biker types or a group of rowdy cowboys, Sophie chuckled when a blue-jeans wearing virago disguised as a six-year-old bounded into the bar like she owned the place.

  Bella Mia Jensen. Sophie fell in love with the adorable rebel at their first meeting. She didn’t have any doubt whatsoever that one day the kid would turn heads. And probably kick some ass along the way.

  “Hey, Grey!” the little girl whooped.

  Bella and the bartender did a fist bump thing while she hopped on her toes with what Sophia recognized was an overload of kid-energy. The girl was in perpetual motion.

  It was amusing as all hell to watch the ponytailed kid bounce around the bar and greet some of the regulars like old pals.

  Turning back to Grey, she was clapping enthusiastically and hopping up and down. “Is Finn here? We have a surprise!”

  “Who’s we?”

  “Me and my daddy, silly. He’s coming,” she said with a hand pointed at the door.

  Sophie heard Parker’s sharp hissing of breath. He looked at her, winked, and held up both hands showing crossed fingers. “Oh, dear sweet baby Jesus. Please let this be the day.”

  “What is going on?” she whispered.

  Then Bella saw them and came zooming over.

  “Hi, Parker! Guess what? Got a s’prise for Finn.”

  He gave her a little hug and kissed her forehead. “Is it what I think?”

  “Yes,” she hooted with the moves and expression of a cheerleader at homecoming. “Hiya,” she said to Sophie.

  “What surprise do you have for Finn? May I watch?”

  “Oh, sure,” Bella squealed. “Wait till you see.”

  Finn came through the kitchen doors wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Someone call for me?”

  “Finn,” Bella yelled before hurling herself across the empty space and straight into his arms.

  Next to her, Parker murmured, “Those two have a thing going on.”

  Sophie snickered. “She has a thing going on with every male pinging a heartbeat.”

  Right on cue, Brody came through the door lugging a kennel carrier and a backpack crammed with stuff.

  “Oh, shit,” Parker mumbled. “Where’s my fucking phone? I need to get a picture of this.”

  As Parker continued to express his amused delight over whatever was about to happen, Sophie sat back and did what she did best—observe. She loved a good spectacle, especially if humor or snark was involved. With Finn at the center, this production promised both.

  “Surprise,” Bella announced when Finn dropped her on her feet. “It’s your puppy! And guess what! I named her.”

  Parker choked on a snicker. “This is so much better than we thought, you guys,” he murmured into the mic on his phone.

  Her face squinched up, and she looked from Parker to Finn, trying to decipher the subtext.

  Finn had his hands on his waist when he glanced back and forth between Bella and Brody. “Her?”

  Oh, my god. Sophie bit her lip—hard. The horrified look on the Irish saloon owner’s face was worth the price of admission. Clearly, he was one of those dumb fucks who associated badassery as the exclusive domain of males.

  What a dick.

  When some famous satirist in years to come sat down to write a definitive book on facial expression and body language, an example of the gotcha-fuck you grin on Brody Jensen’s mug would need a chapter all its own. Sophie was seriously impressed. This guy had a flair for fuckery that she could applaud.

  “What did you do?” Finn growled at Brody.

  “You asked for my help. Filled out a questionnaire, remember?” the snarky dog master replied. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a paper folded into a square that he ceremoniously opened. With an arched brow and nod to everyone present, he started reading.

  “Wanted. Dog. Requirements. Impressive bark. Annoying enthusiasm coupled with guard dog training.”

  Every witness to this exchange coughed, laughed, or snickered.

  Slapping the paper onto the bar next to where a startled looking Grey stood with his mouth agape, Brody grinned like every practical joker ever to grace Sophie’s imagination and continued. He opened the kennel crate and reached inside.

  “Oh, Finn,” Bella cooed with childlike sweetness. “She’s so cute. Wait till you see.”

  Parker was having a grand old time with his phone. He’d hold it up, tape something, chuckle, and then save it—over and over.

  Well, shit, Sophie thought when Brody produced an adorable brown puppy with black splotches, which he cuddled against his chest. If Finn doesn’t want her, I’ll take a crack at it.

  “She’s from a breeder I work with. Healthy and ready to go. A little bit of everything but mostly Havanese. Her name is Lady, but your champion,” Brody said with a lazy drawl as he nodded to Bella, “changed it to FiFi. So here you go,” he told Finn.

  Handing off the ball of brown fur, he theatrically heralded the new pairing. “Lady Fifi, meet Finn O’Brien.”

  “FiFi!” Bella chirped. “From your name Finn!”

  Sophie wasn’t sure if Parker would laugh to death or what because the man was all but on his knees in amusement.

  The dog squirming in Finn’s hands went straight for his face and started licking the stunned Irishman while her little tail wagged like crazy.

  Bella was jumping up and down, clapping her hands and cheering, “Lady FiFi,” at the top of her lungs.

  Grey had turned into a statue or something because he was
barely moving a muscle. Mostly, he just stood behind the bar, wide-eyed, and stared.

  “Who’s the dude with the beard?” she asked Parker on an aside. He was wheezing with laughter.

  “That’s Barry, Finn’s business partner. Oh, Jesus.” He chuckled. “Check out his face.”

  Sophie didn’t have many worries about coming home to Arizona, but she had entertained some minor misgivings along the way. She wasn’t sure she’d fit in to this weird little alternate universe her brother had dreamed up and made a reality. Boy, was she ever wrong! These people were fascinating and behaved in a slightly askew way—just like she did.

  And the snark? Off the charts.

  Yep, she thought for the thousandth time. Good to be home.

  She focused on Bella’s exuberant antics and Finn’s continuing inability to form words when someone new moved into her viewfinder. A man carrying a large carton dropped his burden on the bar top and gave Grey a smacking handshake he enthusiastically returned. The two began to talk; no doubt Grey was giving the new guy an earful of what was going on ‘cause every now and then, the two men would laugh and point.

  Absently swirling a straw through her glass of iced tea, she studied the man talking to Grey with particular interest. He had what could only be described as prime cowboy ass.

  She sighed. Cowboy ass was another reason to enjoy the sights of the Southwest. Nothing compared to a pair of worn jeans that molded to a guy’s, um, assets.

  Parker paused his gleeful cackling and looked at her strangely. Had her sigh been that loud? Or given too much away? Well, fuck it if she had. Who cares? It wasn’t a crime to enjoy the scenery.

  “What?” she snapped.

  He looked over his shoulder at the bar and then pinned her with a knowing look. “See something you like, Soph?”

  “Bite me, Counselor.”

  He chuckled, shrugged, and then gave her a wink. “You could do worse, I guess.”

  “You know that guy?”

  “Yeah. Sure. He works for your brother.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Parker’s head jerked ever so slightly from her sharp exclamation.