“I didn’t know you were coming home,” I say, scooping up the Pomeranian. He licks my cheek, then proceeds to squirm until I release him. So affectionate, my demon-dog. “You could’ve called.”
“You know who could’ve called? You. When you were kidnapped by the fucking mob.” Parker crosses his arms over his broad chest and levels me with a look that probably strikes fear into the hearts of cheating bimbos worldwide. “Did you really think I’d stay away, when I heard?”
I drop my eyes from his, watching as Boo hops onto Nate’s couch and settles in like he owns the place. “I didn’t want to bug you.”
“You’re my sister. Your life was in danger.” He glares at me, hazel eyes serious. “You think I give a shit if you bug me?”
My mouth opens as I try to think of a good response. A morose “sorry” is all I can come up with.
Parker nods. “You need me, I’m on a plane home. No questions asked. You should know that.”
I sigh.
“Hey, you thirsty?” Nate asks Parker, walking toward the kitchen. “Want a beer?”
I try not to blush as I turn and catch sight of the counter. If I’m not mistaken, there’s a faint outline of my body in the flour still scattered there.
“I’m on Australia time.” Parker grins. “How ‘bout some caffeine instead?”
Nate reaches for the filters. “How do you take your coffee?”
“Very seriously.” Parker’s voice is solemn.
“I see your jokes haven’t improved,” I say, trying to shove him and nearly falling on my face when he dodges at the last second.
“I see your aim hasn’t improved.” He darts away nimbly when I take another swipe at him.
Nate watches us from across the kitchen, eyebrows raised.
“Jesus, Knox, it’s a mess in here.” Parker surveys the disaster on the counter, snatching up a cookie off the cooling rack as soon as he spots them. “Since when do you cook?”
“I’m not the one who stress-bakes.” Nate meets Parker’s eyes, then tilts his head in my general direction.
“Ahhh, I should’ve known.” Parker laughs. “Remember how many brownies she made when we put her paper maché volcano on the roof and filled it with fireworks?”
“That was my science fair project!” I hiss. “I got a zero, because of your little stunt! If any time has ever called for double-fudge brownies, it was that day.”
Nate’s mouth twitches. “What about the time we covered all her bedroom furniture in wrapping paper over the holiday break?”
“It looked like the Christmas Tree Shop threw up on my walls. It took me days to get all the tape off!” I glare at them both. “I needed cookies to recover. And I donated most of them to the church bake sale, anyway.”
Parker grins wider. “Wait, what about—”
“Enough!” I snap. “So, I bake when I’m nervous. It’s not like I do hard drugs, or have crazy monkey sex, or jump out of airplanes.”
“Monkey sex?” Nate asks, voice thick with amusement.
“Sweet P, you gotta come skydiving with me next time. You haven’t lived till you’ve felt the air at 12,000 feet.”
“I hate you both.”
They grin in unison and, for a brief second, it’s like we’re all kids again. Eating cookies and joking around, back in the days when everything was fun and there weren’t things like mobsters or broken hearts or brothers who only visit twice a year.
“You’ve got flour in your hair,” Parker says, leaning forward to tug on a tendril. “But these cookies are damn good, I’ll give you that.”
I roll my eyes as he shoves another into his mouth.
“What?” he asks, unapologetic. “I’m hungry. The plane food sucked ass. Milo’s gotta look into a new catering company for the jet.”
“I wouldn’t know. I don’t use the jet.”
He sighs. “Your loss, sis.”
“Speaking of Daddy dearest… did you tell him you were coming home?”
“Nope.” Parker shrugs. “If I did that, we’d have to have a ‘talk about my future.’ And I already know exactly what he’d say.”
My brows lift.