One Good Reason (A Boston Love Story Book 3)

by Julie Johnson

  “She totally is,” Shelby says.

  “So, who is he?” Chrissy asks, leaning in.

  “No one! There’s no one.” Where the hell is Gemma with my refill? “I’m definitely, one hundred percent single. And I’ll probably be that way forever.”

  “Uh huh.” Phoebe’s grin is wider than ever. “That’s what I said about two seconds before Nate and I got together.”

  “And what I said just before Chase swept me off my feet,” Gemma adds, stepping back into our circle and passing me a full glass.

  “Tall pour, much?” I arch my brows at the whiskey filling the tumbler nearly to the brim.

  Gemma grins. “Figured you’d need it.”

  “Zoe.” Phoebe snaps. “Back to the hot boy you’re in love with.”

  “Listen, you’ve got things all wrong.” I swallow a sip. “I’m not in love with anyone. I don’t even date. And even if there is a guy I like — and I’m not saying there is! — I really wouldn’t talk about it with you guys because A. I barely know you and B. there’s no real chance of it going anywhere.”

  “So there is a guy.” Phoebe claps excitedly. “Who is he?”

  “Did you hear anything I just said?” I ask incredulously.

  “Would we know him?” Gemma pesters.

  Well, you do share DNA with him…

  I gulp my drink and fling my hand in the general direction of the couches, where I saw the Three Stooges sitting not too long ago. “It’s more likely I’d fall for that guy over there than actually find true love.”

  “That guy?” Gemma asks.

  I nod and take another sip.

  “You sure?”

  I glance at her and find she’s smiling huge. “Yeah, Moe—”

  “You mean Parker,” Phoebe corrects, laughing. “Our brother.”

  I snort whiskey through my nose. “What?”

  “You said the guy over there and pointed…” Gemma’s voice drops to an amused whisper. “That would be our brother.”

  My gaze flies toward the place I just pointed and, sure enough, I see Parker’s familiar broad shoulders striding through the archway from the kitchen, a Christmas sweater even uglier than Phoebe’s covering his muscular chest — emerald green with two red embroidered ornaments on the front, accompanied by the word BALLS in elaborate, glittery cursive.

  Where the hell do they find these sweaters?

  I’m still spluttering like a fool, the alcohol stinging my sinuses, so Shelby smacks me on the back in a helpful show of support.

  “You okay, Zoe?” She hits me straight between the shoulder blades. “You’re white as a ghost.”

  “I’d be better—” I gasp. “—if you’d stop—” I wheeze. “—fucking hitting me.”

  “She’s fine,” Shelby announces, grinning. “Just having difficulty breathing over your hot-as-shit brother.”

  “Ew!” Gemma and Phoebe whine simultaneously.

  Finally catching my breath, I look up in time to see something that makes my throat feel a bit too tight. Parker’s leggy receptionist, Patricia, enters the room just after him, grabs hold of his arm, and pulls him to a stop beneath the mistletoe hanging in the wide archway. Before he can react, she pops up onto her tiptoes and lays a kiss on his cheek.

  An ugly feeling stirs inside me.

  “What?” Shelby shakes her head at her friends. “He’s sex on a stick, without all the alpha-male damage. What more could a girl ask for?”

  “Maybe someone who doesn’t get more ass than a toilet bowl at Fenway Park?” I grumble under my breath, my tone murderous.

  Four sets of eyes snap to my face and I realize perhaps I voiced my thoughts too loudly.

  Gemma’s blue eyes get sharp. “Why would you say that?”

  “Wait… do you know Parker?” Phoebe asks, head tilting.

  I don’t answer, because suddenly there’s another set of eyes on my face. Eyes I can feel burning into mine even from across the room. Hazel, hot, and maybe, if I let myself believe it… hopeful.

  Like maybe he wants me here.

  Like maybe he’s happy to see me.

  Except he brought a date. A tall, perfectly proportioned brunette who looks like Adriana Freaking Lima.

  The thought has barely formed when I watch her sidle up to Parker’s side again and wrap her arm around his. He doesn’t pay her any attention — he’s still looking at me, frozen in place like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. And I’m looking at her, pressing so close her boobs are laying on his arm.

  They’re a perfect fit. He’s funny and charming. She’s perky and preppy. There’s not a single jaded, cynical, damaged bone in either of their bodies.

  I don’t belong here. I was a fool to come.

  “I have to go,” I say instantly, turning to thrust my empty glass onto the closest table. “Thanks for the whiskey.”

  “Wait!” Phoebe cries. “Zoe! You can’t leave, you just got here!”

  “We still have to play pin-the-balls-on-the-reindeer,” Shelby says somberly. “A time-honored tradition.”

  “I’m sorry.” I turn and head for the archway by the front door, as far from Parker as I can get, cursing Luca for dragging me here and cursing myself for actually having hope that maybe I could open up to someone.

  As soon as I turn to run, Parker finds his voice.

  “Zoe!” He shouts, starting after me. “Zoe, wait!”

  I keep moving, leaving the living room behind and rounding the archway into the front parlor. I hear angry words break out behind me.

  “Get out of my way,” Parker growls at someone.

  “Free tip — when they run away like that, it means they don’t want to talk to you.” Luca’s voice is threatening. “She doesn’t want you near her, you’re not going near her.”

  “Step back.” Parker sounds pissed.

  “You have a death wish, rich boy?”

  “You have a hearing problem, Blaze?”

  I picture them up in each other’s faces, ready to do battle at a fucking Christmas party for god’s sake, and my feet falter. My hand drops away from the doorknob and I hurry back into the living room.

  “Stop it!” I bark at the two idiots, drawing all fifty sets of eyes at the party to me. “Luca, back off him. Now.”

  He does — grudgingly. He looks about has happy as a One Direction fan when news of the band’s split broke.

  Parker’s eyes are on me as he steps around Luca and closes the gap between us. I backpedal as he approaches, out of the living room, through the archway, until I’m practically pressed against the front door in the foyer. He keeps coming until there’s a tiny sliver of space remaining between our bodies.

  My eyes hold his. He’s breathing too hard, looking down at me with so many emotions it’s hard to know what he’s feeling.

  “I should probably go,” I say after a minute, trying to catch my breath. “I’ve done enough damage here. I ruined Phoebe’s party – apologize to her for me, please.”

  “You’re just gonna run again?” he asks, voice low. “Really, Zoe?”

  I swallow. “I have to be somewhere.”

  “Where?” He scoffs. “Anywhere but near me, I suppose?”

  I don’t answer.

  “Pretty strange, then, you showing up at my sister’s Christmas party.” His eyes narrow.

  Before I can retort, there’s a sound of commotion — whispers, footfalls, muffled curses — and then the entire damn West entourage bursts into the foyer, all wide-eyed and winded, jostling for positions in the archway, pushing each other for better views. I turn and see Phoebe, Nate, Mark, Chrissy, Gemma, Chase, Shelby, and Luca all staring at us. Nate’s private security boys tower at the back, a head above the rest of the group. Even the Three Stooges are there, peeking around a corner to witness whatever’s about to go down. And Boo is weaving between their legs like a cat, jingling with every step.

  “What’s happening?” Chrissy hisses.

  “Do they know each other?” Shelby asks.
r />   “Apparently.” Gemma’s voice is dry.

  “Woof!” Boo barks.

  “Parker, how do you know Tink?” Phoebe pushes free of the fray and steps up to my side.

  There’s a loaded beat of silence. Parker’s voice goes gravelly.

  “Tink?”

  I don’t look at him. I can’t look at him. I’m afraid of what I’ll see in his eyes.

  “Yeah, Tink.” Phoebe sounds exasperated. “The girl who saved my ass, last spring. You remember, don’t you? That time your only sister, your flesh and blood, got kidnapped by mobsters?”

  He pauses again. From the corner of my eye, I see his head swivel around to look down into my face. When he speaks, the words reverberate from deep inside his chest. “Yeah. I remember.”

  I press my eyes closed.

  Shit, fuck, damn.

  “Well, we bumped into her at that underground fight last night, the one you and Nate didn’t want us going to because it was a quote-unquote bad crowd, or whatever. Thank god I never listen to anything you two say.”

  I feel Parker move closer. When he speaks, it’s not to Phoebe.

  “You’re the one who saved my sister.”

  I still don’t look at him.

  “But, wait…” Phoebe’s confused. “If you didn’t know she was Tink, how’d you know her?”

  Parker doesn’t say anything.

  Forcing my eyes open, I muster my courage and drag my gaze up to his face. Immediately, I see he’s not angry. Alarmingly, he looks almost… happy. His eyes rove my features with new awareness, like a master thief who’s finally discovered the right combination to crack open an impenetrable safe.

  “You could’ve told me, you know,” he murmurs, a hint of a smile touching his lips. “Saved me a week of thinking you weren’t interested in me. My ego could’ve been permanently damaged.”

  “Seriously doubt that’s possible.” I counter immediately. “And I’m not interested in you.”

  “See, I don’t think that’s the case.” He leans in a bit, eyes getting warm. “I’m thinking, if anything, you being here tonight means you’re more than interested.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “You could’ve told me how you knew my family. One sentence of explanation would’ve cleared the air.” His gaze is sharp. “You kept it hidden because you were looking for any excuse to talk yourself out of taking a risk on something that scares you.”

  “And what would that be?” I snap.

  His eyes soften. “Us.”

  “There is no us,” I whisper, heart clenching.

  “Then why’d you come sailing with me?” he asks.

  “You had something I needed.” I try — unsuccessfully — to move out of his space. “You blackmailed me.”

  He grins. “That’s not what happened and you know it.”

  “Wait!” Phoebe explodes. “Wait just a damn minute!”

  We both look at her. She’s got her hands planted on her hips and is glaring at her brother furiously. Nate, standing immediately behind her, looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh.

  “This is the girl you took sailing?” Phoebe’s gaze swivels back and forth between Parker and me. “Tink is the girl you’ve been talking about ad nauseam for the past week?”

  My gaze swings to Parker. I feel my mouth tug up in an involuntary smile. “Oh, really?”

  Parker looks a little red around the collar — it’s actually pretty adorable, seeing him flustered. “No.”

  “You said she was amazing,” Phoebe reveals, grinning so wide I’m afraid her cheeks might split. “You said you’d never met anyone like—”

  “Enough!” Parker cuts her off before she can reveal anything else, grabs my arm, and yanks open the front door. “We’re leaving.”

  “We are?” I ask, arching my brows. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay here? I think Phoebe has more to say…”

  He grunts and pushes me out onto the steps. I manage to wave briefly at Luca before I lose sight of him.

  “I’ll call you, Zoe!” Phoebe yells as the door slams closed.

  It’s quiet and cold out on the narrow landing.

  Parker runs a hand through his hair and chuckles incredulously under his breath before cutting a glance at me. I try my best to hold back my own amusement at the situation, but I lack the self-control. A giggle bubbles up my throat and bursts from my lips, and before I know it I’m doubled-over, laughing so hard I can barely breathe. Laughing like I haven’t in… god, I can’t even remember how long.

  I’m still cackling like an asthmatic hyena when Parker strides across the stoop, invading my space until I’m pushed up against the railing. His arms reach out and close around the metal rail on either side of me, caging me in so I can’t move.

  “You like laughing at me, huh, Zoe?”

  I giggle-snort. “Yep.”

  He leans in so his front presses against me and I gasp when I feel the length of him, hard and huge against my stomach. I’m shocked how ready he is for me without ever lifting a finger, without doing a damn thing except standing there laughing at him.

  “You should know, that husky little laugh of yours is the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” he mutters, eyes on mine. “You keep it up, I’m going to throw you over my shoulder, take you back to my boat, and fuck you until you can’t walk straight.”

  The laugh dies on my lips as a bolt of lightning shoots through my panties.

  “I’ve been thinking about that mouth since you walked away from me last week.” His lips are practically on mine. “The sounds it makes. The way it looks when it shapes my name. What it’s going to look like when I make you come for the first time.”

  I suck in a sharp breath.

  “And I am going to make you come, Zoe.” I feel his stubble against my skin as his lips skim over my jawline. “Very soon. I promise you that.”

  I think I moan a little.

  “Still laughing?” he murmurs.

  I shake my head.

  “Good.” His mouth brushes mine in a featherlight kiss that leaves me craving more. “Let’s go.”

  “Back you your boat?” I breathe.

  His eyes crinkle. “No. Not yet. We have some shit to say to each other, and if we go to my boat, your powers of speech will be limited to a few choice words. Namely: harder, faster, please, oh my god, don’t stop, Parker, you’re a sex god.”

  Rolling my eyes at his ridiculously inflated ego, I try to muffle the sound of disappointment in the back of my throat. I’m pretty sure he hears it anyway, judging by the way his hand tightens on mine as he pulls me down the stairs onto the street.

  12

  The Impact

  “Where are we going?” I ask, staring ominously at the black Porsche.

  Parker’s busy sending a text to someone on his phone while he waits for me to climb into the deathtrap. When the iPhone buzzes and he reads the response on his screen, he smiles wide.

  “What?” He looks up at me with warm eyes. “I didn’t hear you.”

  “I asked where we’re going.”

  “Somewhere to talk. I have things to say, and it can’t be anywhere with a bed. I can’t be trusted not to…” He trails off. He doesn’t need to say more — the heat in his stare says more than any words could convey.

  I gulp.

  “Um.” Deep breath. “But… where are we going to talk?”

  “New rule.” He tucks his phone into his pocket. “Humans named Zoe are not allowed to ask any questions for the rest of the night.”

  “I don’t accept that rule.”

  “Sorry, too late to change it now.”

  “What the hell do you mean, it’s too late to change it? You just made the damn rule!”

  Parker chuckles. “Shut up and get in the car, snookums.”

  I shoot him a death glare. “Call me that one more time, and I’m going to start calling you boo-bear in front of everyone we pass on the street.”

  “Difference between you and me, dar
ling?” His eyes darken. “I don’t care what you call me, so long as we’re not in my bed. When I’m inside you, I want you to know exactly who’s fucking you. I want my name on your lips.” His voice has gone deep. “Other that that, you can call me whatever you damn please.”

  I suck in a breath and decide now is a very good time to stop arguing.

  He leans in. “Any more questions?”

  I shake my head.

  “Great. Get in the damn car.”

  I heave a heavy sigh… and then I get in the damn car.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, I feel my eyes widen as he turns onto a familiar street.

  “Why are we on Yawkey Way?”

  He quirks an eyebrow. “That sounded like a question.”

  “Fine. I’ll rephrase.” I sigh deeply. “It appears, Oh Mighty Annoying One, that we are at Fenway Park.”

  “Very astute. You’re much smarter than the girls I usually date.”

  I elbow him. Hard. “This isn’t a date. And it’s not tough to be smarter than girls who never read anything except nutritional facts on the back of their diet products.”

  His grin widens. “Have I told you I like it when you’re sassy?”

  “Several times. Flattery will get you nowhere.”

  “What will get me somewhere? Specifically, to third base?”

  I scoff at him. “You’re not getting anywhere near my bases.”

  “Zoe! I’m shocked and appalled.” He shakes his head as if deeply disappointed, shifting into park just outside one of the stadium gates. “I was talking about bases on the actual baseball field. You know, where the Red Sox play. Clearly.”

  “Clearly,” I echo dryly.

  He chuckles as the engine falls silent with a low purr, throws open his door, and rounds the hood to open mine like I’m some eighteenth-century maiden climbing from a stagecoach. Before he can even reach for my handle, I’m out waiting on the curb with my arms crossed over my chest.

  “Chivalry is dead?” he asks, brows raised.

  “And buried,” I concur.

  “Great. Just checking.” He grabs my hand before I can stop him and starts leading me toward the doors.

  “I wish you’d stop tugging me around like a dog on a leash.”