Somebody to Love (Gideon's Cove #3)(81)

“Hey, Beauty,” he said, and the dog wriggled closer and rolled on her back, offering her stomach, which he rubbed obligingly.

Man. Best night of his life. Parker Harrington Welles, with him. All night. For a few seconds there, when they’d come up from the dock, he’d thought she might bolt and they’d have to start all over again. Or never.

Nope. The Fates smiled on him, and if she wasn’t the most beautiful, softest…the way she’d said his name with a little gasp of surprise as she came, and the sweet, soft sinking afterward, as if her bones had dissolved and all she could do was curl against him, her hair cool and smooth against his shoulder.

Shocking. It was shocking, how good it had felt. Maybe it was years of unrequited imagining, but James could honestly say that there was sex, which was always a good thing.

And then there was last night. Which was unbelievable.

Where was she, anyway? He didn’t hear anything going on in the rest of the house. No shower running, no noise from the kitchen.

He got out of bed and pulled on some clothes, an image of Parker on top of him actually making him stop in his tracks.

Best. Night. Ever.

She wasn’t in the kitchen. Wasn’t on the dock. Wasn’t painting in his room, wasn’t outside in the little yard. Wasn’t swimming, thank God.

No note, either. Odd, because she’d been leaving him little notes as to her whereabouts lately.

At that moment, his cell phone rang. New Hampshire Correctional.

Shit. “Hey, Harry,” he said.

“James. How are you?”

Great, Harry. Just shagged your daughter. A few times, actually. “I’m, uh, I’m good. How are you?”

“Not bad.” There was a pause. “How’s Parker?”

So, so good. James grimaced. “She’s excellent. I mean, uh, very good. She’s fine. I mean, she’s looking forward to seeing her son next weekend.” He closed his eyes.

“Good. How’s the house coming along?”

“Pretty well.”

“She hasn’t been to see me. You think you could get her to come down?”

James paused. “Well, I think you should ask her yourself, Harry. It’d probably mean more, coming from you.”

“Is that right? And now you know my daughter better than I do?”

Oh, most definitely, boss. “Something wrong?”

“It would be pleasant, James, if my only child decided she could get her ass in the car and visit me.”

“Okay. I’ll pass that message on.”

“Thank you.” Harry’s voice was curt.

“So how’s sobriety?” James asked.

There was a long pause. “It’s harder than I thought,” Harry acknowledged. “Sorry if I’m being a prick.”

“No, Harry, you’re fine. You’re in prison. You’re supposed to be in a bad mood. Maybe you should join a gang, make some friends.”

Harry laughed. “You’re the only friend I have, kid.” There was an unfamiliar note of sincerity in his voice. “All right, James. Take care.”

“You, too, Harry.”

Bringing up Harry was not really on James’s list of top ten things to talk about with Parker. Especially now, when she’d apparently bolted. Her car wasn’t in the driveway, so she must be either at the diner or the flower shop. Or on the Interstate.

A note would’ve been nice.

Parker, warm and sleepy in bed next to him, would’ve been even better.

With a sigh, James took a shower, fed the dog and walked into town. She wasn’t at the diner, which was packed with pretty much the same folks he’d seen at the wedding yesterday. He said hello to a dozen or so people, got two coffees to go and headed for Lavinia’s.

As he walked in front of the open window of the shop, he heard Parker curse. “Tell him I’m on a delivery,” she hissed, completely audible. James rolled his eyes and went in.

“Hey, Lavinia,” he said, setting one cup of coffee on the counter and taking a sip of his own. “Brought you a coffee. Didn’t think you were open so early. On a Sunday. And look at you, here all by your lonesome.”

Lavinia stubbed out her cigarette on her palm, looking somewhat like a creased and grumpy badger. “I don’t usually open so early on a Sunday morning, you’re right. But as you might know, I live upstairs, and some crazed idiot was unlocking the door at six-f*ckin’-thirty. To clean up the shop, she said.” Lavinia picked up the coffee and took a sip. “Thanks for this, by the way.”

“You’re welcome. So this crazed idiot, I guess she’s on a delivery, huh?”

“Ayuh. Something to that effect.”

James nodded. “Well, I’d like to send her flowers.”

“Sure. Your money.”

“Okay, here’s what I want the card to say. You ready?”

Lavinia picked up a pen and grinned. “Go for it, kid.”

“Dear Parker, thank you for the best sex I’ve ever had, even counting the last time you did me, which was also fantastic. Still, last night was even better. I’d love to have these encounters more than once every few years, and as we are currently living together—”

The door to the back room opened. “Okay! Fine! I’m here. Stop embarrassing yourself.”