One Good Reason (A Boston Love Story Book 3)

by Julie Johnson

  “You’re so tiny. I’m worried I’ll lose you in the crowd.”

  I glance around at the deserted street. Two days before Christmas in thirty-degree weather, there’s not a soul to be seen.

  “Yeah, that seems likely.”

  He laughs lowly as we walk along the gated entryway.

  “Your snazzy car is going to get towed,” I feel obligated to tell him.

  “It’s not mine, it’s Nate’s. And it won’t get towed.”

  “This is Boston. Do you know how overjoyed it would make one of the demonic meter-maids to find a car like that parked illegally on the street?”

  “Will you just trust me?” He stops and looks down at me. “Can you do that? Just for one night. Trust me.”

  I bite my lip to keep in all the bullshit reasons I shouldn’t, all the arguments that I should never leap before I look… and give a slow nod.

  “I think I can do that,” I murmur quietly.

  His hand tightens on mine. “Finally.”

  When we reach a small green side door, Parker bangs a fist against the metal grate a few times.

  “Jim!” he calls loudly. “It’s Parker.”

  Almost instantly, the door cracks open.

  “Bro! I didn’t know you were back in the city till you texted me!” The gangly, bearded man in a Red Sox jacket reaches out and envelops Parker in a bear hug. “Haven’t seen you in years! Thought you were off living the dream, exploring the world, banging chicks—” Jim seems to realize what he’s saying, because he turns red and shoots me a bashful look.

  I roll my eyes.

  “Sorry.” Jim hurries on. “What I mean to say is, never thought you’d come back to the city, after college. Guess it makes sense, though, after all that shit with your dad went down…” He gets red again. “Sorry, sorry.”

  Jim has a serious case of word-vomit.

  Parker clears his throat awkwardly and takes a step back. “It’s good to see you, man.”

  “You too. We gotta grab a beer sometime, catch up.”

  “Definitely,” Parker says in a way that makes me think he won’t be following through on that statement anytime soon. “So, we all good?”

  “Yeah, you got an hour before my shift ends. Just don’t mess anything up or I’ll be in a fuckload of trouble, feel me?”

  “I feel you. Thanks, Jim.”

  “Nice outfit, by the way.” Jim smirks and punches Parker on the bright green arm of his BALLS sweater. “Not even going to ask why you’re dressed like my seventy-year-old grandmother at a holiday party.”

  Parker laughs, returns Jim’s arm punch, then leads me inside. I hear the sharp peal of the door slamming closed as we walk into the abandoned park. I must admit, it’s a bit surreal to be here without the usual rush of crowds. Boston baseball fans are a boisterous lot — it’s strange to see Fenway stripped of people pushing to find their rickety wooden seats, devoid of vendors calling out, “Peanuts!” at the top of their lungs as they cut through the rows, silenced of the strains of “Sweet Caroline” pouring from the overhead speakers.

  The field is covered with snow; it’ll be months before the season opens.

  “We’re definitely not supposed to be in here,” I whisper-yell at Parker.

  “I know,” he says at a totally normal volume. “That’s what makes it fun, Zoe.”

  I sigh.

  A few hundred steps and ten minutes later, my legs are aching but my eyes are wide with wonder as we step through a door and I realize where we are.

  “We’re on top of the Green Monster,” I breathe, spinning in a circle to get the full effect.

  Fenway is the oldest MLB park in the country. Her Green Monster — the forty-foot emerald wall that towers over left field — is legendary. Even though I was raised in this city, I’ve never been up here before. Game tickets are too expensive for my meager salary; I can’t imagine how much it would cost to take a private tour.

  And yet, Parker made it happen with a single text message.

  Laughing like a little kid, I drop his hand so I can spin around unrestrained. I don’t care if I look like an absolute fool running between the rows; I take it all in — the snowy field sprawled out below us, the city skyline to the north, the infamous Citgo sign glowing red and white just behind the park. The stars are so bright and so close, I feel like I could reach out and grab one. Usually, with the stadium lights shining, you can’t see them at all.

  “This is amazing,” I whisper into the dark, turning to look at Parker when I’m finally done admiring the view. “It’s beautiful up here.”

  He’s leaning against the rail, watching me.

  “I admit, I’m impressed, playboy.” I tilt my head and lean back against the rail. “You bring all your dates here?”

  He smirks. “Darling, I’m getting the sense that somewhere along the way, you got the wrong idea about me. Probably during your little internet-stalking stint. Allow me to clear something up for you…” With measured steps, he closes some of the distance between us until we’re only a handful of feet apart. “I don’t date. I’ve never dated. I don’t like long-term. Don’t stay in any place long enough to get comfortable, let alone pick out china patterns with someone.” His eyes lose their joking edge. “That tool Jim who let us up here? There’s a reason he was surprised to see me. When I was a kid, I spent a decade looking after Phoebe, looking after my family. There was no one else to do it, so I stepped up; that didn’t make it fun or easy. So, when Phoebe was finally old enough to take care of herself, I didn’t hesitate.”

  “You left,” I murmur.

  He nods. “And I didn’t ever plan on coming back, once I finally got out. Not for longer than a weekend, a holiday visit, a birthday. Until last spring, when my baby sister was kidnapped…” He glances at me. “I guess I have you to thank for saving her.”

  “It was nothing.”

  His eyes hold mine. “Not nothing to me.”

  I glance away, uncomfortable with the look he’s giving me.

  Soft. Intimate. Ultra-warm.

  I clear my throat. “Anyone would’ve done the same, if they’d known she was in trouble.”

  “How did you know?” he asks. “That she was in trouble? I mean… how did you know where to find her? Even Nate couldn’t track her down, and he’s the best in the business.”

  I bite my lip and look back at him. “It’s complicated.”

  “More clandestine spy shit?”

  “I’m not a spy.”

  “That’s funny. In my fantasies, you’re always tying me up…” His grin is sinful. “Strictly for interrogation purposes of course.”

  I snort. “I’m not a spy, or a CIA member, or any of the heroic titles you keep trying to give me. I’m just a girl with a computer.”

  He pauses. “You save people. Help people. Hate to break it to you, but that kind of makes you a hero, Zoe.”

  I shake my head, rejecting his words. “No.”

  “Fine.” He chuckles. “But I wouldn’t want to be Robert Lancaster right now, I’ll tell you that much.”

  My eyes widen. “You looked on my flash drive!”

  “Of course I looked on your damn flash drive. You think I’d give it back to you without ever glancing at it?” He chuckles. “I’m blond, but I’m not an idiot. Don’t objectify me… Unless we’re talking about sexual objectification. You can do that any time you want.”

  I roll my eyes. “Do you ever stop making jokes?”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “It’s exhausting.”

  “Liar. Admit it — you laugh more with me than you do with anyone else.”

  “I’ll admit no such thing.”

  “Stubborn.”

  “Stupid.”

  “Ooo, real mature.”

  I groan. “You’re impossible.”

  “You think I’m cute.”

  “I think you have a hearing impairment.”

  “Possibly. But I’m gifted in other ways.” He winks. “I could show yo
u, if you want. Though, that particular tutorial would require fewer clothes.”

  I make a fake gagging noise. “Thanks, I’m good.”

  “I know you’re good. That’s why I’m happy I’m not the one in your crosshairs. Tell me, what are you planning to do to Lancaster? Cripple his computer network? Publicly shame his entire IT department? Harass his secretary?”

  At the indirect mention of Patricia, I slide my eyes to his. “I doubt he cares as much as you do about his secretary’s welfare. Frankly, she seemed to recover just fine from whatever trauma I inflicted on her during my visit.”

  Parker’s grin gets wide. “Jealous, snookums?”

  “No, boo-bear,” I snap. “There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

  “I agree.” Parker’s smile is almost blinding. “You know, Patricia and I have so much in common…”

  I go tense.

  “Mainly, the fact that we both fuck women,” he adds conversationally.

  I let that seep into my subconscious and ignore the simultaneous feelings of relief and embarrassment flaring through me.

  “I don’t know why that should concern me,” I say in an uppity voice, when I think I’ve gotten my breathing under control.

  “Of course not.” Parker sounds thoroughly amused.

  “Anyway,” I say, latching onto a new topic with desperation. “Robert Lancaster is a bad guy. Trust me — he deserves everything he’s got coming to him.”

  “I know. Just…” Parker pauses, his tone growing serious. “Be careful with him. He’s a powerful guy, like it or not. You don’t want him as an enemy.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t want me as an enemy.”

  Parker’s lips quirk up. “I’ll bet that’s true. Still… just be careful.”

  “I’m always careful. Plus, I’ve got Luca to help. He’ll watch out for me.”

  The air gets a little tense.

  “I’m sure he will,” he says after a very long minute.

  “Parker.” I wait until he looks over at me. “Luca is like my brother. My family. There’s nothing romantic between us.”

  Our eyes hold for a suspended moment and I can tell he’s reading me to see if I’m being sincere. After a moment, he nods and I know he’s accepted my words as truth. For now, at least.

  “So…” I say, eager to change the subject to something less awkward. “What’s the coolest place you’ve ever been?”

  He dips his head back to look up at the stars and exhales sharply. “I could never pick just one. Though this place, right here with you…” His eyes find mine. “Top Five. No question.”

  I look away swiftly, focusing on the view and ignoring my thudding heartbeat. “You must be about ready to sail off into the sunset, huh? You’ve been here, what — seven, eight months?”

  “Nine.” Parker’s voice is thoughtful. “You know, when my shithead father went to prison and the whole damn WestTech empire — an empire I’ve never wanted jack-shit to do with, mind you — was in jeopardy, I knew there was no choice but to come back. And then Phoebe asked me to stay. She needed me here. So I sucked it up and I stayed.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, meaning it. I know how it feels when you’re trapped in a situation out of your control. That cornered, inescapable feeling — it can drive you mad.

  His voice gets lower. “Since I got here, I’ve been counting the minutes until I can leave again.”

  Inexplicable disappointment snakes through me at the thought of him leaving. I hope it isn’t visible on my face, which I’m keeping carefully averted.

  He slides a little closer. “Or… I was counting the minutes. Until I saw you.”

  I try not to let my knees quake as I feel the warmth of his side press against mine.

  “Me?” I breathe, finally looking over at him.

  His eyes trap mine immediately and I see they’re dangerously soft again. He reaches out slowly, like I’m a horse who might buck if he moves too fast, and tucks a rogue strand of hair behind my ear.

  “There’s this thrill I get, when I go on an adventure. Climb a peak, explore a city, set down wheels on a dirt runway in a place I’ve never been before. I’ve spent my whole life chasing that feeling.” He pauses. “You’re the first person I’ve ever met who makes me feel that rush while I’m standing still. Looking at you, I don’t need to chase some crazy whim. You…” He shakes his head, as if he can’t believe he’s saying this shit out loud. “You’re a huge adventure in a five foot, hundred pound package.”

  For a minute, I don’t respond. I can’t. All I can do is stand there as his words wash over me, listening to the pulse pounding between my ears and trying not to let my eyes water.

  Zoe Bloom doesn’t cry over boys. Even boys who say things so sweet, she’s worried she’ll get used to hearing them and be miserable for the rest of her life when they inevitably stop.

  I push that voice away. Force back the tears stinging behind my eyes. Brace myself for impact.

  And then I take a tiny step forward, so there’s only the smallest sliver of space left between our bodies. So I’m completely invading his space. He’s so tall, I have to crane my head back to keep his eyes on mine.

  “A good adventure or a bad adventure?” I whisper haltingly.

  I watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows, and I get the sense his control is hanging by a thread.

  “You are my favorite kind of adventure,” he says simply as his arms come up around me and he crushes his mouth down on mine.

  Heat explodes between us. The fire that started burning last week when we met never truly went out. It was always there in the back of my mind, embers just waiting for a spark to reignite the inferno. Parker’s mouth moves over mine in greedy, uncompromising sweeps and I return his kiss with equal fervor.

  My hands grip his shoulders; his tug at my waist. I’m plastered against him, every curve, every atom in my body possessed by his, and it’s still not close enough.

  Sexual attraction is a powerful drug.

  It’s not something you can force or manufacture or hope to foster with enough time or practice or little blue pills. It’s elemental.

  I don’t care how much you love someone’s personality, their sense of humor, their compassion, their every redeemable quality… if you don’t want to tear their clothes off, at the end of the day it’s never going to work out. Without that fundamental attraction, two people can’t last.

  Longing. Desire. Lust.

  Parker and I have it in spades.

  We may not always communicate well with words, but our bodies speak a language all their own — that much is clear from just the way he touches me.

  This sheer, unstoppable pull I feel for him is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It goes through me like a needle, threads into every part of my existence until I can’t think of anything except the sensation of his hands against my skin.

  I make a needy sound in the back of my throat as I push up onto my tiptoes, trying to deepen our kiss.

  “Fuck,” Parker growls, tearing his mouth from mine. “We’re supposed to be talking. That’s why I brought you here.”

  “Funny,” I pant, clinging to his shoulders. “I thought you brought me here to see whether you could get to third base.”

  His eyebrows waggle. “What are my odds?”

  “Slim to none.”

  “How about second?”

  “Not likely.”

  “Figured as much.” His mouth lands on the tip of my nose as he gently pushes me back to create a little distance. “Come on. Sit with me for a minute. And try not to be too grabby with the goods. I’m not a piece of meat, Zoe.”

  “You’re the worst.”

  He laughs as he leads me down to the front row of seats, right on the edge of the wall. I don’t fight him. As much as I’d like to get naked with him, the top of the Green Monster on a freezing December night is really not the appropriate locale for that.

  We settle onto two metal seats, purposely leaving a few inches
between our bodies. Our only point of contact is Parker’s hand enveloping mine. His large fingers trace the small bones of my wrist as we settle in, and just that light touch sends flares of sensation through me like electricity. Trying to control my hormones, I prop my feet up on the rail and sigh as I take in the dark field below us.

  “It’s so fucking cool up here.”

  Parker nods. “When I was a kid, I always dreamed my dad would take me to a game here. He never managed to find the time.” His shoulders lift in a small shrug. “That probably sounds totally cliché.”

  “It’s not,” I say softly. “There’s nothing cliché about wanting good parents.”

  “I did my best, trying to raise Phoebe after our mom died. But when you’re eleven years old and suddenly you’ve got to be an adult, a parent… you don’t get to be a kid anymore.”

  I look over at him, this beautiful man who I’ve misjudged over and over since the first moment we met, and feel his words sink into me like a blade.

  “I know what it’s like to have your childhood taken away,” I murmur after a few minutes. “And I’m sorry — about your mom. About everything.”

  Parker’s thumb strokes the fragile flesh on the inside of my wrist. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Maybe,” I murmur, staring hard at the pitcher’s mound. “But there are some scars even time can’t heal.”

  He doesn’t press me for details, even though he could. He’s revealed much more about himself than I expected, and I haven’t returned the favor. Not remotely.

  Instead, he just slides his arm around the back of my chair and tugs me closer. I let my head fall onto his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his skin and listening to the strong pulse in his neck, and for a while we don’t say anything at all.

  When Jim comes up and tells us his shift is over, we walk in silence down the steps back to the car. And this time, I don’t complain that he’s holding my hand. In fact, I twine my fingers tighter with his and tell myself I’d be an idiot to ever let go.

  13

  The Floodgates

  “Take a left.”

  Parker turns the car onto my street and I watch his jaw clench tighter.