“Well, then.” Parker’s voice is wry as he interrupts the moment. Frankly, I’d forgotten he was still sitting there. “How ‘bout them Red Sox, huh?”
When I glance his way, cheeks flaming bright red, I see he’s fighting to hide a smile.
I can’t seem to formulate a single word, at the moment, so I take another bite of mashed potatoes and order myself not to think about eighteen-year-old Nate beating the shit out of my Sadie Hawkins date all those years ago. Because thinking that he was looking out for me back then, when I’ve spent years convincing myself he didn’t know I existed… when I’ve always thought I was totally invisible to him….
That may just make me fall even harder for him.
Thankfully, the conversation shifts as Nate and Parker begin a semi-heated debate about the new Sox pitcher. After a few minutes, I’m pretty sure they’ve forgotten my existence…. until I feel Nate’s hand slide onto my thigh beneath the counter ledge, out of view. His grip is firm, but casual. Natural. Like he does it all the time.
I suck in a breath and try not to fall off my stool.
He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t say a word. But his hand never moves for the rest of the meal.
***
The sound of the faucet drowns out Parker and Nate’s hushed conversation across the loft, which makes it nearly impossible to eavesdrop while I’m washing the dishes. So, I’m surprised I’m able to hear the slight buzzing of a cellphone against the wood counter on the other side of the kitchen.
Lured toward the sound like a moth to flame, I narrow my eyes when I see it’s the burner phone Tink gave me, its screen illuminated with an incoming call. A glance behind me shows the boys are still deep in conversation across the loft.
Before I have time to ponder all the reasons it’s a terrible idea, I lift the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Thought I told you to toss the burner phone.”
“Tink?”
“Listening isn’t your strong suit, huh?”
Sigh. “If you thought I’d tossed it, why bother calling at all?”
“Because I knew you wouldn’t listen to me.” I can almost hear her eyes rolling in their sockets. “You’re a pain in the ass.”
“You barely know me!”
“I know enough.”
“Did you call to harass me?” My words are snippy.
“No, I called to warn you.”
“Do you have some kind of savior-complex I should know about, Tink?” I press a hand to my chest and gasp. “Are you my fairy godmother!?”
“Just shut up and listen to me.” I hear a sound in the background, like fingers clacking against a keyboard at hyper-speed. “You wouldn’t happen to be at your boyfriend’s place in Seaport?”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I hiss.
“So you’re there.” Her voice gains an edge it didn’t have before. “Listen, you have to leave. Pronto.”
There’s a sudden presence at my side. I turn and see Nate looming over me, eyes narrowed on the phone in my hand.
“Who is it?” he asks, voice ominous.
“That your boyfriend?” Tink asks through the phone.
“He’s not my—” I break off when I catch sight of Parker hovering close behind Nate. “It’s Tinkerbell,” I inform them wearily.
“Yo! Princess!” Her voice is impatient. “Heads up or I’m hanging up.”
“Put it on speaker,” Nate commands. His voice books no room for argument.
I sigh and hit the button to trigger the speaker.
“Gang’s all here,” I inform Tink. “You’ve got the floor.”
There’s a furious sound of typing, then a low curse. “Great. Let’s hope at least one of you has a brain.” She curses again, distracted by something. “Turns out we stepped on a few toes the other night, when I broke you out. O’Pry and Petey are pretty fucking pissed we got the jump on them. Ruined their plan to make good with the big boss and all. They’ve been trying to track you down. Paid a visit to your place in Back Bay earlier.”
“How do you know where I live?” I ask, surprised.
“I have men stationed at the brownstone.” Nate answers before she can. “No one’s getting in.”