Somebody to Love (Gideon's Cove #3)(46)

“Oh, ayuh,” said Vin. “We can do real nice for three hundred.”

Wow. Parker could honestly say that she’d never met a bride like Maggie. Lucy had been pretty easygoing, but they’d had a girls’ night with Corinne, Lucy’s sister, and pored over Martha Stewart Weddings magazines, drank wine, and it had been a blast. As far as Esme, please. There’d been more tantrums during that engagement than at a day-care center during a full moon. Bloodlust and fury over things like flowers and seating arrangements and limos. Even her own mother, who had weddings down to a science, got religious with details; Althea’s last bouquet had cost three thousand dollars—just the bouquet, which was made of rare lavender roses and vivid pink orchids flown in from South America, all wrapped in satin ribbons embroidered with Althea and Maury and studded with Swarovski crystals.

Maggie smiled at Parker. “You helping Vin out this summer, I heard?”

“That’s right,” Parker said.

“Cool. I bet you have great taste. I love your clothes. You always look so nice.”

“Thanks,” Parker said, feeling a blush.

“Hey,” Maggie blurted, “you should come to Dewey’s tonight! We’re having a girls’ night out. I think it’s sort of my bridal shower, too. Just bring something for the food pantry. No gifts. Want to? Vinnie’s coming. You can meet everyone.”

Parker opened her mouth to pass—she barely knew Maggie—then realized her standard excuses were not going to work. No kid to go home to. No manuscript to work on.

And if she didn’t go out, she’d be home with Thing One of the eyes and the hands and the smile. “Thanks. I’d love to.”

* * *

WHEN PARKER PULLED INTO the short driveway of her place, Thing One was up on the roof.

Shirtless. Again.

At the sight of him, every egg in her ovaries leaped to attention and started banging their tiny fists against the wall. Let us out, Parker! Now!

He wore carpenter-style shorts and a tool belt and work boots and nothing else but sweat, and Parker suddenly realized her mouth was dry.

Thing One. Was. Beautiful.

“I’m back,” she croaked, and he turned, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“Hey.” He started toward the ladder.

“Don’t come down! I brought sandwiches from the diner.”

“Great.” He disobeyed her order, jumping the last few rungs. And now he was getting closer, and she could smell that nice, clean sweatiness of him.

“Did you put on sunscreen?” she heard herself ask.

He smiled. Her knees tingled dangerously. “Thanks for bringing lunch.”

Parker swallowed. “Oh, you’re welcome. You know. The least I can do is feed you.”

His arms were most…unlawyerly, curving with muscle, glistening. No shirt. Had she mentioned that? And he was standing approximately four inches in front of her. Should she choose to lean in and taste him just for the hell of it, it wouldn’t be hard at all.

“What?” she asked, realizing abruptly that he was talking. “Sorry. Um, Beauty, stop, honey.”

That’s right. Use the dog as an excuse. Good play. Not that the dog was doing anything other than cowering behind her legs.

“I said I’ll be up on the roof most of the day. There’s a part of the floor in the kitchen that’s rotted out, thanks to a leak, so I figured the roof was a priority.”

“Good call.” As if she knew anything. “Okay. I’ll get going, then. Cleaning. And I might get started doing the, um, prep stuff. For painting. Cleaning and taping. I need to sponge down the walls in your room.” Did that sound dirty? It sounded dirty to her. Sponge down. Sponge bath. Your room. Your bed. “Um, is Apollo locked up?”

“Yep.” He was smiling at her, that knowing, faint smile. The I’ve seen you na**d smile.

Without another word, she went into the house.

Parker managed to avoid Thing One for much of the rest of the day. He went to the hardware store; she talked to Nicky twice, once after lunch, once after he’d seen a deer and wanted to tell her about it. Mostly, though, she cleaned.

Parker found that she liked hard physical labor. The last time she’d worked this hard, she’d been pushing out a baby; her housework at home didn’t usually entail more than making Nicky’s bunk bed—which was awkward, let’s give credit where it was due. But this stuff, this schlepping and bending and wiping and sweeping…forget Zumba or Pilates. Body by Hoarding.

She didn’t get to James’s room. It felt a little…personal. But the living room and kitchen walls had been washed with bleach and water, and she’d taped all around the windows, cupboards and doors. Tomorrow she’d start painting. Rolly and Ben were coming over to help.

That would be good, having some people there. People other than Thing One.

He’s awfully cute, the female Holy Rollers said.

“Shush, you guys.” But maybe James needed a drink. Parker filled a glass and went outside, where James was coming down from the roof. “How’s it going up there?” she asked, handing him the glass and gazing out at the harbor—not at his shirtless glory, no, of course not.

“Good.” He took a long pull of water, then dumped the rest over his head and ran a hand through his thick, wavy hair. God. She was going to need a pulsating showerhead, and soon.