All I Want(26)

“You willing to stake your career on it?” she asked. “Because right now he’s getting comfortable, and that’s right where we all need him to be. Comfortable. Cozy. Lazy.”

Carver was a lot of things, but lazy wasn’t one of them. And yet Sharon was right. He had to let it go.

For now.

He went back to his run, halfway to dead when he stopped two miles later and bent over at the knees, gulping in air like it was his job. He was still there sucking wind when a truck pulled over in front of him on the side of the road.

Wyatt got out. He was in cargo pants, a T-shirt that read VETERINARIAN: Because BADASS isn’t an official job title, and a fading smile as he got a good look at Parker.

“I’m fine,” Parker said, still wheezing.

Wyatt nodded as he came close enough to put his hand to Parker’s shoulder and push.

Parker fell over onto his ass.

“You’re full of shit,” Wyatt said, and offered him a hand to pull him up. “Get in the truck.”

Parker didn’t take orders from very many people. But stick a fork in him, he was done. “Love it when you get all demanding,” he said, keeping his whimpers to himself. “Gives me the shivers. You going to buy me breakfast first?”

“Maybe after,” Wyatt said. “If you’re very good.”

“After what?”

“If you want to kill yourself with physical activity, I’ve got just the way to do it,” Wyatt said.

Fifteen minutes later they entered the Belle Haven Animal Center, where Wyatt worked as a veterinarian. They were greeted by well over a hundred-pounds of Saint Bernard. Gertie threw herself at Wyatt and then shoved her big nose into Parker’s crotch, making him yelp.

Wyatt grinned. “Welcome to the insanity.”

“Help!” screeched a feminine voice. “HELP ME!”

Parker whipped around, automatically reaching for the weapon that he didn’t have at the small of his back because, oh yeah, he was in running gear with no place to hide a weapon.

But there was no woman. Just a huge parrot perched on a printer at the front desk.

“Help!” it squeaked in a shockingly authentic woman’s voice. “I’ve been turned into a parrot!”

“Peanut, play dead,” Wyatt said.

Peanut sighed and tucked her head into her feathers.

“Good parrot.” Wyatt looked at Parker. “She’s a nut.”

“Damn, shit, farts,” the bird muttered beneath her breath, making Parker grin.

Wyatt sighed. “Peanut’s a mimic, and Jade, our office manager, has a bit of a potty mouth.”

“Boner,” Peanut said, head still tucked into her feathers.

“Peanut, dead parrots don’t talk.” Wyatt turned back to Parker. “Follow me.”

Parker did, and found himself working his ass off for the next hour mucking out four horse stalls. It was late June and the day had heated up. He swiped an arm across his sweaty brow. “Why are we doing this again?” he asked Wyatt.

“Because we had to fire the maid,” Wyatt said, swiping his damp brow, too. “And also because each of us here owns a horse and we take turns at this. It was my day and you were looking to punish yourself for God knows what. Just being a friend, man.”

When they finished, Parker staggered to a fallen log and sat. And because that wasn’t enough, he lay flat on his back in a patch of overgrown wild grass, sweating, shaking, and unable to move.

Christ, Sharon was right. He wasn’t in lean, mean fighting shape yet. Not even close.

“Aw. Need a nap?” Wyatt asked.

Remaining still, not even opening his eyes, Parker flipped him off. He wasn’t going to move, not a single trembling muscle, for a good long time . . .

The scent of coffee roused him and he opened an eye.

A feminine hand waved an iced coffee—God bless her—in front of his face. He opened another eye and met Zoe’s sunglasses-covered gaze. “Marry me,” he said.

“Huh, you’re right,” she said to someone over his head. “That did revive him.”

“Told ya,” Wyatt said. “And I bet vodka would’ve done the same thing.”

Zoe’s eyes were still on Parker, and he watched as the memories of the night before flitted through her mind, making her lips twitch.

“It’s too early for vodka,” Parker muttered. “You,” he said, pointing to Wyatt, “are an *.”

“Sticks and stones,” Wyatt said, and walked off. “Dinner tonight,” he called back over his shoulder. “I’ll introduce you and your potty mouth to the woman I’m going to marry.”

“Is she a sadist, too?”

Wyatt flipped him off, and Parker let out a low laugh. “Shit. She is, isn’t she?”

“Ready?” Zoe asked him.

He looked at her, taking in her long, slim-cut black blazer and skirt—blessedly short and revealing her mile-long legs. Was he ready? Ready for what? Because several really great possibilities were running on repeat through his mind, none of which could be done in front of her brother. Not to mention he’d need a shower first. And maybe another nap. “For?”

“A ride.” She narrowed her eyes. “What did you think I was offering?”