“Very,” I call back dryly, smiling despite myself.
“Babe, I’m gonna go say hello to Knox, Theo, and the rest of the boys. You good?” Luca asks quietly.
I force myself to smile. “I’m good. I think.”
“Oh, she’s fine.” Phoebe plants both hands on Luca’s shoulders and gives him a push. “Off with you.”
And then, before I can say another word, I’m thrust full-force into the party madness.
* * *
“So, Zoe, what’s the deal with you and Blaze?” Chrissy asks, glancing over at the men. After a short introduction, Chase and Mark abandoned us to join them. That was almost a half hour ago — I’m surprised I’ve lasted this long, buffeted on all sides by girl talk.
“Yeah, are you guys together?” Gemma chimes in. “He keeps an eye on you, that much is obvious. And he’s mega hot.”
“I would not mind getting with that.” Shelby nods appreciatively. “Not a damn bit.”
“You’re married,” Phoebe reminds her.
“Theoretically.” Shelby shrugs. “But the only thing that’s been up close and personal with my lady business in the past five years is a pair of Spanx.”
Phoebe and Gemma bust out laughing.
“Wait!” Chrissy interjects. “No tangents. The kids are finally asleep; I have maybe a thirty-minute window before one of them starts screaming again. I want to hear Zoe’s answer about whether she’s getting any from the sexy redheaded fighter.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head adamantly. I go to take another sip of my whiskey and find my glass is empty. Damn. “We’re friends. Family, practically. We look out for each other, that’s all.”
“I know someone who’ll be happy to hear that.” Shelby grins. “Speaking of Lila, where is she?”
“God only knows what that girl does with her time.” Chrissy snorts. “Does she even work? Or does she just professionally juggle boyfriends?”
“Hey! No tangents! We’ll never get the truth out of Zoe if we keep getting distracted.” Phoebe swings her head to me. “So, are you dating anyone?”
I rattle the ice in my glass. “I really need more whiskey if I’m going to continue this conversation.”
“I need a refill too,” Gemma says, nabbing the glass from my hand. “I’ll grab you one while I’m in there.”
“Thanks,” I murmur.
She winks and walks away.
“So?” Phoebe persists. “Boyfriend? Fuck buddy? Husband? Crush?”
You mean, including your brother or…?
I shake my head, fighting the blush threatening to stain my cheeks. “No. None of the above.”
“Then why are you blushing?”
“I’m not,” I lie.
“She totally is,” Shelby says.
“So, who is he?” Chrissy asks, leaning in.
“No one! There’s no one.” Where the hell is Gemma with my refill? “I’m definitely, one hundred percent single. And I’ll probably be that way forever.”
“Uh huh.” Phoebe’s grin is wider than ever. “That’s what I said about two seconds before Nate and I got together.”
“And what I said just before Chase swept me off my feet,” Gemma adds, stepping back into our circle and passing me a full glass.
“Tall pour, much?” I arch my brows at the whiskey filling the tumbler nearly to the brim.
Gemma grins. “Figured you’d need it.”
“Zoe.” Phoebe snaps. “Back to the hot boy you’re in love with.”
“Listen, you’ve got things all wrong.” I swallow a sip. “I’m not in love with anyone. I don’t even date. And even if there is a guy I like — and I’m not saying there is! — I really wouldn’t talk about it with you guys because A. I barely know you and B. there’s no real chance of it going anywhere.”
“So there is a guy.” Phoebe claps excitedly. “Who is he?”
“Did you hear anything I just said?” I ask incredulously.
“Would we know him?” Gemma pesters.
Well, you do share DNA with him…
I gulp my drink and fling my hand in the general direction of the couches, where I saw the Three Stooges sitting not too long ago. “It’s more likely I’d fall for that guy over there than actually find true love.”
“That guy?” Gemma asks.
I nod and take another sip.
“You sure?”
I glance at her and find she’s smiling huge. “Yeah, Moe—”
“You mean Parker,” Phoebe corrects, laughing. “Our brother.”
I snort whiskey through my nose. “What?”
“You said the guy over there and pointed…” Gemma’s voice drops to an amused whisper. “That would be our brother.”
My gaze flies toward the place I just pointed and, sure enough, I see Parker’s familiar broad shoulders striding through the archway from the kitchen, a Christmas sweater even uglier than Phoebe’s covering his muscular chest — emerald green with two red embroidered ornaments on the front, accompanied by the word BALLS in elaborate, glittery cursive.
Where the hell do they find these sweaters?
I’m still spluttering like a fool, the alcohol stinging my sinuses, so Shelby smacks me on the back in a helpful show of support.
“You okay, Zoe?” She hits me straight between the shoulder blades. “You’re white as a ghost.”