Parker flips on a light and flops down on the other side of the couch, leaving a few inches between our bodies. I feel the weight of his gaze on my face and turn to narrow my eyes at him.
“What are you looking at?”
“You,” he says simply, leaning his head back against the cushion. His blond hair sticks up in several directions, even messier than usual due to the salt and the wind. I’m sure mine is equally crazy; not even a bottle of industrial strength hairspray can save me at this point, let alone my flimsy elastic.
“Well, stop it,” I say softly. “It’s creepy.”
“Don’t care.” He shakes his head. “I like that look on your face. I’ve never seen it before.”
I raise my eyebrows. “What look?”
“Happy. Relaxed. Satisfied.” He pauses and his eyes go lazy with heat. “Makes me wonder what other faces I could get you to make.”
I elbow him sharply in the side. “Don’t be gross.”
“Oh, relax. It was just a joke.” He laughs and rubs the spot I struck. “Mostly.”
I roll my eyes. “We had such a fun afternoon. Do you have to ruin it?”
“So you admit it was fun?”
“Did I say fun? I meant dysfunctional.”
“Come on.” His tone is teasing. “Admit it.”
“Fine,” I say grudgingly. “You were right. It didn’t completely suck.”
“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” He cups one hand around his ear. “I’d like to make sure it’s on the record.”
“You were right,” I grumble.
“Once more?”
“Don’t push it.”
Grinning, he reaches up to unzip his heavy jacket, revealing a thin white t-shirt underneath. Discarding the coat and sliding his suspenders off so they hang around his thighs, he stands and looks down at me. I try — and fail — not to drool at the sight of the red pants riding low on his hipbones.
Hey — I never said I was perfect.
“I’m grabbing a beer. You want one?” he asks, crossing over to the fridge. “Sorry, I don’t have any girly shit here.”
My nose wrinkles. “Girly shit?”
“Cosmos, martinis… Wait, a cosmo is a martini, right? But not all martinis are cosmos… kind of like all squares are rectangles but not all rectangles are squares?” He shakes his head. “Fuck, I don’t know.”
I snort. “Does your brain hurt from that analysis?”
“Yes, wise-ass, it does.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Now tell me what you want to drink.”
“Still waiting for you to tell me what you have.”
“Ah. Right.” An adorable hint of red creeps up his collar. He turns away quickly so I won’t see the blush, pulling open the fridge to look inside. “I have… beer. Beer. And, last but not least… more beer.”
“Such variety. How ever will I choose?”
He grabs two Harpoon IPAs, pops off their caps, and crosses back to hand one to me. The glass is cool against my fingers as they close around the neck. I feel Parker watching as I take a long draw from the mouth of the bottle.
“You’re staring again,” I point out as soon as I’ve swallowed.
He sips his beer and flops down next to me — a little closer, this time. Our arms brush every time I raise the bottle to my lips.
I don’t move away; neither does he. We just sit there for a while, sipping our beers, and I’m shocked to find I’m totally comfortable in a way I rarely manage around most strangers.
It’s not easy for me to let my walls down. I absolutely hate when people demand intimacy they haven’t earned. But Parker doesn’t demand anything. He doesn’t ask invasive questions, or pester me. In fact, since the moment we met, he’s just let me be… me.
“How are your legs?” he asks, a knowing look on his face.
My thighs press together of their own accord and my features twist into a grimace. Truthfully, they’re killing me. Just staying vertical while we were out there on the water was a tougher workout than any of my morning jogs along the Charles.
Who knew sailing was such a contact sport?
“I have a feeling I’ll be sore tomorrow,” I murmur. Glancing at him from the corner of my eye, I see his lips are pressed together to contain a laugh.
“Don’t make the joke, playboy.”
He chuckles. “It was too easy, anyway.”
I settle back against the cushions, trying to get comfortable despite the rain jacket still engulfing me from head to toe. The stiff waterproof material is warm and durable as all hell, but it’s not exactly lounge-wear.
“Here.” Parker grabs the large black sweater draped over a nearby chair and shoves it in my direction. “This will be more comfortable.”
I stare at the sweater, then let my eyes drag up his tanned forearm all the way to his face. The soft glow of the overhead light leaves his features in shadow, but I can still make out the plushness of his lips, the strong slope of his jawline, the dark slash of his brows. His eyes are warm gold, like melted honey, and there’s an expression on his face that makes my heart squeeze inside my chest.
Tenderness.
No one’s ever looked at me quite like that, before. I’ve never gotten close enough to give them a chance.
“Thanks,” I murmur, tearing my eyes from his as my fingers close around the fabric. “Now, turn around so I can change.”
He does, without a word.
In silence, I unzip the bulky jacket as fast as possible and slide the sweater over my head. It drapes well past mid-thigh, covering practically everything, so I shimmy out of the rain pants as well. Tugging at the hem to make sure none of my girly bits are exposed, I plant my hands on my hips and take a breath.
“All good,” I say. “You can look, now.”
When he turns back to face me, his eyes drop straight to my bare legs and hold there. In the space of a single heartbeat, I watch his jaw clench, see his eyes turn smoldering, recognize the way his posture changes from casual to carnal. I’m suddenly extremely aware that despite all his jokes and lighthearted comments… he’s very much a man.
An attractive, straight-up appetizing man, who’s looking at me with such heat, there’s no logical reason I haven’t melted into a pool of hormones at his feet.
His gaze flashes up to lock on mine. I see his intent a split second before it turns to action.
“Don’t,” I whisper.
He takes a step toward me anyway.
“We shouldn’t,” I say, not moving.
He prowls closer.
“No good can come of this,” I point out.
His hands hit my shoulders and he hauls me into his chest.
“This is a bad idea,” I breathe against his lips.
“This is a fucking great idea,” he mutters.
And then I can’t say anything else, can’t even think of anything else, because his mouth is on mine.
8
The Regret
There’s a loud bang, like a door being kicked in, but I barely hear it. I’m buried in sensation — big hands in my hair, on my sides, beneath my shirt. Lips against my neck, my collarbone, the hollow behind my ear. Weight between my hips, pressing me into the cushions.
Parker’s fingers have found the hem of the sweater and started to make their way up my ribs. Mine are wrapped around his neck as he hovers above me, my lips tasting the sea salt on his skin as they move down the broad column of his throat.
I’m not sure if we’ve been kissing seconds or minutes. All I know is, it’s not nearly enough when we’re interrupted.
“What the fuck is this?” a deadly voice growls. “Get off her!”
Parker’s weight vanishes and I hear a thud, followed by a grunt of pain. My eyes fly open and I’m stunned to see Luca towering over me like a storm cloud. His dark auburn hair is disheveled, his light blue eyes furious.
“Are you okay?”
I nod, stunned silent by his sudden appearance.
He doesn’t wait for me to say anyth
ing. He spins, strides across the room, and hauls a dazed-looking Parker to his feet. Before he can even find his footing, Luca’s got Parker pinned against the wall with one arm pressed tight across his neck, compressing his windpipe until he can barely breathe.
“What the fuck do you think you were doing?” he hisses into Parker’s face. His tone is downright scary. He looks like he’s about to murder someone.
And by someone I mean a certain wise-cracking playboy who just had his tongue in my mouth.
“Luke,” I call, springing to my feet. “Luke, stop!”
It’s like he doesn’t even hear me. He’s entered full-on rage mode.
I’ve only seen him like this once before — the afternoon he saved me from those guys behind the group home. Parker would be wise to keep his mouth shut and let me deal with it before Luca’s anger boils over.
But, of course, this is Parker we’re talking about. When has he ever kept his mouth shut?
“Well?” Luca hisses, slamming Parker harder against the wall. “Do I have to shove my foot up your ass?”
“Buy me a drink before we talk ass-play, baby,” Parker wheezes, defiant despite the fact that a savage is strangling the life out of him.
Ho boy.
The hand at Luca’s side curls into a fist. Before he can lift it, I’m there — holding on for dear life to keep him from killing Parker.
“Luca! Luca, listen to me!” I yank harder on his arm; he doesn’t move a single inch. I’m an ant trying to shift a mountain. “He wasn’t hurting me. Okay? He was… we were…” I fidget as I search for the right words. My voice drops lower. “He wasn’t hurting me, Luke.”
Luca and I never talk about this shit. I’ve always tiptoed around the subject of men in my life, just as he’s never shared details of the fan-girl hoes who line the front rows at his fights, their fake boobs spilling out of too-tight t-shirts. We don’t talk about sex. Relationships. None of that shit.
Until now, apparently.
I see his posture change slightly as he processes my words. As the scenario in his head — me being assaulted — changes to something entirely different.
He shifts his arm so Parker can breathe, but doesn’t move away. A muscle jumps in his cheek. “This guy? Really, Zoe?”
“Luca,” I repeat softly. “Let him go.”
He does, a disgusted huff of air blasting from his lips as he pushes away from the wall and strides toward the stairs, grabbing my hand and bringing me along with him. Hearing Parker drag a ragged breath into his lungs, I glance back to see if he’s all right.
His eyes meet mine; there’s a dark look in their depths. I get the sense he’s about a second away from tackling Luca to the ground – which will not end well for anyone involved.
Great. I’m standing between two barrels of gasoline, holding a match.
With a rough yank, I pull out of Luca’s hold before he can drag me up the ladder out of the cabin. He stops and looks down at me, features contorted into a stony mask, and I use both hands to shove his chest. Hard.
“What the hell was that, Luca?” I snap.
“That was me looking out for you, like I always do.”
“I didn’t ask you to look out for me!”
“That’s kind of the point of looking out for someone — they shouldn’t have to ask. Ever.” He doesn’t sound remotely apologetic.
I try to remain calm. “What possible reason could you have for thinking I needed looking after at this exact moment in time?”
“You weren’t answering your phone.”
“So?”
“You always answer.”
“Okay, sorry, apparently I’m not a perfect person!” I throw my hands up. “That doesn’t give you an excuse to barge in here like some kind of psychopath and assault my…” I swallow. “My friend.”
Parker snorts at my word choice. I ignore him.
“What do you even know about this guy?” Luca asks.
“More than you, I’m sure!” I hiss. “I don’t need you to protect me anymore. I’m a grown woman.”
His light blue eyes drop to scan my body, stopping on my bare legs. “I can see that.”
I flinch. He’s never said anything like that to me before.
“Just get out of here, Luca.” I turn and walk back toward Parker, making it clear where I stand in this whole ridiculous show of masculine bravado. “I appreciate your concern, but it’s neither wanted or needed here.”
“I’m not leaving without you,” he says flatly.
I stop halfway between the men and roll my eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t get lodged up inside my skull. “How’d you even find me?”
“Went to your place and used that Find My iPhone app on your computer.”
“That is a total invasion of privacy!” My voice is incredulous. “You had no right to do that.”
“Yeah, well, I was pretty sure I was going to find your corpse rotting at the bottom of the harbor, so I don’t really give fuck about invading your privacy.”
My anger thaws a bit, at that. “I get it. You were worried. But now that you can see I’m totally fine, not remotely in danger, certainly not fish food in the marina… Can you please get the fuck out of here?”
He doesn’t move an inch except to cross his arms over his chest. “Thought we didn’t have secrets?”
“We don’t,” I say immediately. “But we aren’t kids anymore, Luke. And, frankly… who I choose to spend my time with is none your business.”
The muscle jumps in his cheek when he glances at Parker. “Thought, after that shit last spring, you were done with this family, Zoe. Why’d you lie?”
Fuck.
Parker doesn’t know about last April, when I helped his sister get away from the MacDonough mob. I’d never intended for him to know. Never thought Phoebe would even come up in conversation, considering I planned to avoid him for the rest of eternity after today.
I dart a glance at Parker and see his eyes have gone intent.
“Last year?” he grumbles, his stare never shifting from mine. “What’s he talking about, Zoe?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly.
Luca snorts. “For fuck’s sake, he doesn’t even know? Jesus, Zoe. I don’t know what the hell kind of game you’re playing, but we need to leave.”
My eyes fly back to my oldest friend. “This isn’t the street. You don’t make the rules anymore, Luke.”
“I do if it means protecting you from scumbags like this.” He jerks his chin at Parker. “Don’t be stupid, Zoe.”
I open my mouth to snap back, but Parker beats me to it.
“I’ve been pretty tolerant. Let you insult me, push me around in my own home. But you ever speak like that to Zoe again in front of me, you’ll regret it,” he warns in a deadly voice. “Sorely.”
“You don’t even know her,” Luca growls. “You think, because she let you fuck her, that you mean anything? You’re nothing.”
Oh, shit.
Parker’s control snaps. He lunges at Luca, fist swinging out like lightning. I’m shocked to see him clip Luke across the chin — most people never manage to hit him. He’s too damn fast.
In a frozen moment, I see a small trickle of blood leak from the corner of Luca’s mouth. His tongue darts out to taste it and I watch, terrified, as a familiar look creeps into his eyes. It’s the look he gets before every match.
Excitement. Anger. Bloodlust.
He lives for this — the fight. The rush.
And he’s great at it, if the three semi-pro heavyweight titles he’s got under his belt say anything about his skill level. Parker may be tall and strong, but Luca’s a professional. No way in hell will this be a fair fight.
“Didn’t think you had it in you,” Luca mutters, wiping the blood from his lip with the back of one hand. He’s eyeing Parker like a snake about to strike. “This is going to be more fun than I thought.”
“Luca, don’t!” I rush to stand between them, holding my arms out to either side again
st their chests — as though my petite frame could possibly keep them apart. “This is insane!”
Parker’s chest presses hard into my right hand; Luca’s weight leans into my left. Combustion is imminent.
“I hope you’re not expecting your security deposit back,” Luca growls at Parker, jerking his hand around the beautifully furnished yacht. “This place won’t look the same after I toss you through that table.”
“You going to talk me to death or fight me?” Parker’s grin has a decidedly dark edge. “I’ve had first dates with less conversation.”
“Enough!” My head whips from one man to the other. “You want to kill each other, that’s just fine. But don’t do it on my account. Frankly, seeing this idiocy, I want nothing to do with either of you.”
The pressure lessens slightly on both hands as they absorb my words, but neither backs away.
Testosterone-fueled imbeciles, the both of them.
“Luca, you so much as touch him and I will never speak to you again,” I whisper hotly, zeroing in on his chiseled features. He’s handsome, but not in an open, obvious way. His mouth is too severe. His nose has been broken one too many times and never reset properly. There’s too much darkness in his light eyes.
Still — that doesn’t deter most women from flinging themselves at him.
His eyes drop down and scan my face. He sees how serious I am — I can tell, because the weight against my left hand finally disappears as he steps back. He looks about as happy as a dad at a Taylor Swift concert, but at least he’s in control of his rage.
“We’ll talk later.” His words are clipped — he wants to say more but he’s holding back. For now. He shoots Parker one last withering look before turning and climbing up the ladder. Just before he disappears into the dark, I hear a gruff order.
“And keep your damn phone on.”
I roll my eyes and feel my lips tug into an involuntary smile. Luca’s a pain in the ass, but he’s my pain in the ass.
One Good Reason (A Boston Love Story Book 3) Page 10