All I Want(37)



And missed Oreo’s tail by a mile.

Still, Oreo cried.

“It’s okay,” Parker said. “I promise they’re not going to hurt you—”

Too late. Because Oreo lifted his leg and . . . peed on them.





Fourteen




A half hour later, Parker had bathed the kittens and calmed Oreo down with a big bowl of food and some hugs, and the four of them were trying the meet-and-greet thing again.

Oreo lay on the floor, still wide-eyed but allowing the kittens to crawl all over him. The gray one climbed up the big dog like Oreo was Mt. Everest, ending up on top of his head.

Oreo’s eyes rolled up and they eyeballed each other, scaredy-cat dog and mountain-conquering, fearless kitten.

Parker’s cell rang. “You forget dinner?” Wyatt asked.

Shit. “Yeah,” he said, “sorry.”

“No problem. Hightail your ass to the bar and grill; we’ll meet you there.”

“Which bar and grill?”

“The only one in town—Pete’s.”

Parker trusted Oreo with the kittens but he didn’t trust the kittens with Oreo, so he set the two troublemakers up in the bathroom with kitty litter, water, and food, and shut them in. “There,” he said to Oreo, who was watching from the hallway. “You’ll be perfectly safe until I get back.”

Oreo yawned, and Parker patted him on the head before heading out.

At Pete’s, Wyatt introduced the beautiful brunette standing next to him as Emily, his fiancée. The three of them sat and shared a pitcher of beer, Emily listening in avid fascination as Parker and Wyatt told stories.

“Remember our bar brawl in college?” Wyatt asked.

Emily gasped. “Bar brawl?”

“Not our fault,” Wyatt told her. “We were jumped.”

“How could I forget?” Parker asked. They’d been jumped because Wyatt had smiled at the wrong girl. “I still have the scar.” He ran a finger along his left eyebrow, which the scar bisected.

Wyatt grinned. “Good times.”

“How about on your twenty-second birthday?” Parker asked. “When you decided to give everyone free shots from the bar, started a wet T-shirt contest, and got us both shit-canned.”

Emily stared at her fiancé. “You started a wet T-shirt contest?”

“Yep,” Parker answered for him.

“Thanks, man,” Wyatt said. And then to Emily, “You heard the part where I was twenty-two, right?”

Emily smacked him upside the head. “That was for the twenty-two-year-old girls.”

Parker laughed. It felt good to do so. He’d been so busy for so long he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d done this. Had fun. Relaxed.

They ordered food, and when they started eating, the talk turned to Parker’s stint in Sunshine.

“I’m so sorry you couldn’t stay with us,” Emily said. “My sister’s just back from her honeymoon and they’re in our only spare bedroom.”

“No worries,” Parker said. “Zoe’s house is great.”

“And Zoe?” Wyatt asked.

Parker smiled. “Just as you described her.”

Wyatt grimaced. “Uh-oh.”

Emily smacked Wyatt on the arm. “How did you describe her? As warm and caring and lovely as she really is, right?”

Wyatt slid a look to Parker. “Right.”

Emily narrowed her eyes on her fiancé, and it was fascinating to watch Wyatt grin at her with unabashed love and affection as he leaned in and kissed her on the end of her nose. And then her mouth. “Don’t look at me like that, sweetness,” he murmured. “Zoe’s all of those great things on the inside, but we both know she’s stubborn as hell and easily irritated on the outside.”

Parker laughed at the accurate description. “No worries, it’s been great.”

Wyatt did a double take. “Great?”

Shit. Redirect. “Have you had her French toast?” Parker asked.

“She made you French toast?” Wyatt asked. “She won’t make it whenever I ask, says if she did then I wouldn’t appreciate it as much.”

“I only got her leftovers,” Parker said, hopefully coming across as harmless. Because that was what he intended to be—completely harmless.

Sure, he’d never been harmless a day in his life, but there was a first time for everything.

“Where is she tonight?” Wyatt asked. “I thought she’d come with you.”

“She’s on a date.”

“Oh yeah,” Emily said. “With that really good-looking dentist from Hennessey Flats.”

When Wyatt looked at her, she laughed. “Hey, I’m engaged, not dead,” she said. “I Googled him because Zoe refused to do so. I wanted to make sure he wasn’t a wanted felon or anything.”

“Tonight’s date isn’t with the dentist,” Parker said, leaving out the part where she got stood up. That was Zoe’s tale to tell. “It’s Joe.”

Wyatt choked on his beer. “Joe, the airport manager Joe? What the hell is she doing out with that horndog?”

Back at the house, Parker had managed to shelve his frustration about the date. For one thing, Zoe hadn’t dressed like a woman planning on getting any action. And for another, he’d sensed absolutely zero chemistry between her and Joe.

Jill Shalvis's Books