He let out a wry smile. “Not at work, it’s not.”
“Are you kidding me?” she asked with more than a whisper of incredulous disbelief. “You were nearly shot yesterday. You’ve been run over by a truck!”
“I’m talking about emotionally tricky,” he said. “At work, things are black or white.”
She paused. “So you’re saying that work is easier than real life?”
He let out a low, wry laugh that was answer enough.
She’d always known his stance. He’d never been anything but honest about that. Which meant she had no one to blame for her heartbreak but herself. But she really wished she had some of Manda’s muffins.
“Zoe—”
“Don’t,” she said quietly, and took a deep breath past the pain in her damn heart. The damn heart she’d told not to get involved.
He opened his mouth but she shook her head, sending him her best death glare. “I mean it, Parker. I’ll pull this plane over and kick your ass out.”
The look on his face said he wished things were different, and for just a second she allowed herself to believe it. But in the end, it didn’t matter what he was thinking. If he truly wanted something, he’d make it happen. That was who he was.
“Different subject,” he said a few minutes later. “I told you this trip was personal. Before you jumped to conclusions and decided I was shutting you out, I was about to tell you that I meant personal as in personal to me. It’s about my sister. Her name is Amory. She’s eighteen and flexing her independence muscles for the first time. Problem is, she’s a bit of a wild spirit and hard to contain. People love and adore her, but she doesn’t always understand the real world.”
Surprised at this unsolicited glimpse into his world, Zoe glanced at him. “She lives in Vegas?”
“No,” he said. “She lives with my parents. She took a bus to Vegas from Arizona.”
She glanced over at him. “She ran away?”
“Worse.” He shook his head. “She wants to get married.”
“So young?”
“Yeah,” Parker said, and scrubbed his hands down his face. “Last time I talked to her, I said she needed to be a grownup. I think this is her way of showing me she’s doing just that.”
“Who’s the guy?”
“Henry. Also eighteen. He’s quiet and shy and utterly guileless. This is all Amory’s doing.”
When they landed a short time later, Parker arranged for a rental car and drove them straight to Elvis’s Wedding Chapel.
Zoe stared at it. “You’re kidding me.”
“It’s where she called me from,” he said. He parked and turned to Zoe, who was torn between horror and laughter. “She loves old movies, especially Elvis,” he explained.
“Not judging,” Zoe said. “Do you want me to wait here?”
Parker actually looked uncertain at that. She’d never seen this look on his face before; he’d never been anything but one hundred percent sure of himself.
Which settled it. She unhooked her seat belt and got out of the car.
Parker did the same. With his dark sunglasses and a pair of dark jeans with a white button-down shoved up at the elbows, he looked movie-star handsome.
And tough and impenetrable.
Unapproachable.
She walked right up to him. She pulled off his glasses. “Better,” she said, and cocked her head, studying him. “Don’t take this personally, okay?” Sliding her hands up his chest and around his neck, she tugged his head down and kissed him.
Not one to be a passive participant in anything, Parker kissed her back, hard and more than a little bit rough, and a whole lot desperate. She was breathless when she pulled back and stared into his face.
Much more relaxed, she decided, and nodded. “Better. You don’t look nearly so intimidating or scary as hell now. You look almost . . . sweet.”
“You think I’m sweet?” he asked in disbelief.
“No, I think you’re intimidating and scary as hell.” She smiled and patted his arm. “And okay, maybe a little sweet.” And kind. And decent. And loyal. And . . . shit.