Somebody to Love (Gideon's Cove #3)(109)

Malone sat next to Maggie, who immediately popped up. “Oops. Tavy’s giving me the evil eye. Better get back to the kitchen. You two talk. If I don’t see you before you go…well, I have your email.” She reached down and hugged Parker, and Parker hugged her back.

“You married well,” she said to Malone as Maggie went back into the kitchen.

“Ayuh.” Malone watched his wife, a smile playing around his eyes, then looked at Parker. “You okay?”

“Ayuh.” She grinned. “I’ve been wanting to say that for two months now.”

He smiled in full. Damn. The guy was hot, all right. Good for Maggie.

From the corner, Nicky laughed at the wonder of the mop bucket. “Mommy! I want to be a bubble boy when I grow up! Like Georgie!”

“Sounds like a plan,” she said, smiling over her shoulder. “Thanks for watching him, Georgie.”

“You bet, Parker.”

“He’s not watching me, Mom! I’m his helper.”

Parker winked at Georgie, who was clearly enjoying having a protégé. “My bad.” She turned back to her breakfast companion, who seemed utterly content never to say another word. Made him seem wise. “So. Fun doings last night, huh?”

He gave a half nod. “I’ve seen worse.”

Twenty-two.

She believed James. Well, she believed that he thought, kindasorta, that he’d broken up with the Playboy bunny in his bed. But men were often vague, weren’t they? They might not be real clear, in case things with someone else didn’t work out. They might make promises they didn’t really mean—I’ll call you when I get back from Maine, he might’ve said to the bunny. Or, I’m in when asked if he might want to settle down and be part of a family.

Yes, men had their little escape hatches. If life got boring, they could always screw the babysitter, for example. Weren’t entire chapters of The World According to Garp devoted to screwing babysitters? Men always had ways of keeping their distance. Jobs, another example. They had to work hard in big cities and spend their free time with twenty-two-year-olds while their wives raised their kids and hoped they’d come home.

You never knew.

Malone was looking at her. She took a sip of coffee. After last night, she felt she’d spilled more than enough.

“Hey, good morning. How are you? I was really concerned.” Malone sighed as Collier Rhodes sat next to her in the booth.

“Hey, Collier. Thanks again for the ride,” she said.

“Oh, my pleasure, of course. Damsel in distress, right? I’m so sorry that you were victimized.”

Parker suppressed her own sigh. Her own fault for stomping into Dewey’s and making a scene—though it had been somewhat satisfying. “I wouldn’t call it victimized, but I appreciated the ride.”

“Of course. Hey, Judy,” he said, calling to the heavyset waitress, who appeared engrossed in a crossword puzzle. “I’d love the house special today! Except, maybe instead of eggs, it could be egg whites? With a little fresh cilantro, if you have it? And no bacon…maybe some turkey bacon if you have that. Some OJ, no pulp, and a flaxseed muffin, if Maggie made any of those?”

“I don’t even know what flaxseed is,” Judy said, not looking up from her paper. “Why don’t you ask Maggie yourself?”

“Okay! Will do, Judy! Gosh, this is the best place, isn’t it? I love it here. I come in every day.”

Malone raised an eyebrow at Parker, and she stifled a smile.

“Say, Parker, I saw the for-sale sign in front of your house,” Collier said, turning to look at her. “Why is that?”

She glanced at Malone, who rolled his eyes. “Because it’s for sale?” she suggested.

“Excellent! I was thinking it’d be a great house for a caretaker. Because, like, my travel schedule is a little crazy. Did I tell you I’m booked on a speaking tour? It’s called ‘Living the Life Fantastic.’ Now, I didn’t pick the name, trust me, my agent did, but I thought, yeah, I need a caretaker. Back before I retired, I’d close up the house for the winter, but since I plan to pop back and forth between gigs, I’d like to have someone keeping an eye on it, turn on the heat, stock the fridge. Is your place winterized?”

“Uh, it needs a little work.” A furnace, for example. A cellar.

“It’s a jewel,” Malone said gruffly.

Parker blinked.

“Malone, my man, you’re so right!” Collier exclaimed. Parker suspected he had a man-crush. “It really is a jewel.”

“Historic, too,” Malone said, taking a sip of coffee. “Built as a companion house to your own.”

Historic companion house, her ass. It was a fortified shed. She felt the wriggle of laughter trying to force its way up her throat. The creases around Malone’s eyes deepened.

“It’s really not winterized, Collier,” she said, unable to lie.

“That’s okay! Have you had any offers?”

“Actually, I’m, uh, considering a couple right now.”

“Shoot,” Collier said. “Well, what would I have to offer to beat it?”

Parker paused. “Well, Chantal is handling—”

“Double it,” Malone suggested. “You want the house, go for it.”