Chapter Fifty-Four
Eliot
Lake Travis sparkles in the early afternoon sun, getting closer and closer by the second. There damn well better be a house at the end of this road. I’m starting to think my GPS is playing a trick on me.
I’m about ready to pull over and text Parker, when I come around another curve, and a large, single-story ranch house comes into view—porch of gray stone with a natural wood fence, a rocking chair bench, and huge windows on either side of the front door.
The lawn has started to brown—like all lawns in Texas this time of year—but flowers in every color fill cedar beds, and the slice of lake visible through the trees seems to go on for miles.
Parker’s burgundy Toyota and Nate’s Impala are already parked in a large paved area in front of the garage, and I pull in next to them. High-pitched, excited barking comes from behind the screen door. If I didn’t know better, I’d think someone told Belle I was bringing her treats.
Bag of turkey chews in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other, I limp up the three steps.
Parker’s there before I can ring the bell, a wide smile on her face. But before she opens the door, the grin falls away. “Eliot.” Her gaze drops to my shirt. To the short sleeves. The scars winding around my left bicep almost to my elbow.
The dog is about ready to bust through the screen, but Parker tells her to sit, then tries to squeeze around her and out the door.
Belle has other ideas. She darts between Parker’s legs, and I take two quick steps back, then stop so she can sniff me.
“Give me the wine. You make nice with Belle.” Parker eases the bottle from my hand, leaving me free to tear the top off the bag and fish out a large piece of dried turkey leather.
Belle’s tail wags so fast, it’s nothing but a brown and gray blur. She sits, staring up at me with bright blue eyes, tongue hanging out of her mouth. As soon as I give her the treat, she’s off like a shot toward the back of the house, giving me and Parker a moment alone.
“You…clean up well,” she says, setting the wine on the railing, then running her hand from my shoulder down my right arm.
“Figured if I was gonna stop hidin’, today was as good of a day as any.” The words want to stick in my throat, but I force them out, then lift my gaze to Parker’s.
Her fingers curl gently around my bicep. “Come here.”
The kiss goes on for so long, my jeans are getting tight until Nate calls from inside, “Hey, hot stuff. You gonna stand out there all day?”
Parker tosses a glance over her shoulder. “Settle down, Pookie. We ain’t on the clock.”
An engine rumbles, the sound getting louder by the second. “That’ll be Connor, Isabel, and Veronica.” She passes me the wine. “We should probably go in so Nate can get another joke or two out of his system before you meet them.”
I follow her through the door. “I’m never gonna live that down. Am I?”
“Nope.”
With her fingers curled around mine, Parker leads me into the foyer. Warm tile floors lead to a spacious living room with an L-shaped sofa, fireplace, and several overstuffed chairs. The kitchen smells like freshly baked bread.
She tilts her head toward another door that leads to a large deck and a great view of the lake. “Grace and AJ are out back.”
I’ve worked with AJ on half a dozen cases over the years, and met Grace last week, but the first step from the house to the deck feels like I’m climbing a mountain.
AJ’s at the smoker on the far end, the scent of hickory rolling toward the lake in a slow, winding plume. Grace, sitting in a deck chair a few feet away, goes rigid when she sees me. The glass in her hand trembles, ice clinking softly against the sides, and AJ turns.
“Eliot. Glad you could make it.” He hooks the tongs to the side of the smoker before striding over to me and offering me his hand. Parker slips past him and leans against the empty chair next to Grace.
“Thanks for havin’ me, Chief.”
His grip is firm, and he holds on for a beat longer than necessary. “I ain’t the chief here. It’s AJ.”
“Good to know. AJ. I…uh…brought a bottle of wine. Didn’t know what y’all liked.”
AJ chuckles. “By the time we’re full up? A little of everything.” He sets the bottle on a long table covered in deep blue linen.
Before I can decide where to stand—or think much of the fact that AJ didn’t look twice at my left arm—Belle bounds up onto the deck at full speed, a bright yellow tennis ball clamped in her jaws. She skids to a stop at my feet, and drops the ball right in front of me.
“Well, that’s somethin’.” AJ shakes his head. “She likes you. Go on, then. Just don’t throw it into the water or you’ll be responsible for dryin’ her off.”
I take the slobbery tennis ball to the railing. The grafts pull tight halfway through the throw, but the ball still sails a good twenty feet. Belle takes off like she’s about to run a marathon.
Parker comes up beside me with an old towel. “There’s a whole pile of these in the box by the door. Belle isn’t known for dry mouth.”
“Clearly.” I take the towel, and wait for Belle to trot back up onto the deck. But she doesn’t have the ball with her this time, and heads right for Grace.
“Good girl,” Grace coos, scratching behind Belle’s ears for a moment before she stands, setting her glass on the arm of the chair. Her blue eyes dart between me and Parker, who takes my hand again.
Grace picks her way carefully around the chairs, Belle glued to her side. “Hi, Eliot. It’s nice to see you…again.”
Before I can figure out what to say—or how to say it—the door opens and laughter spills onto the deck. An older guy, wearing a look that says he’s seen some shit, holds the door for a petite brunette and a young woman who can only be their daughter.
Nate brings up the rear, a six-pack of Shiner in each hand. “Don’t worry, AJ. I finally found the beer in the third place I looked.”
“It wasn’t in the garage fridge?” AJ asks.
Nate sets the yellow cardboard carriers on the long table. “Both the house fridge and the garage fridge were full of actual food. These were in a cooler.”
Grace’s cheeks flush bright red. “I moved them this morning. You made too…too m-much…” A tiny, frustrated sound dies in her throat.
After a moment, she makes a fist with one hand, taps it twice with two fingers of the other hand, then mimics tossing something into the air with both hands one at a time.
Parker leans close and whispers, “Potato salad.”
“Eliot?” The older man holds out his hand. “Connor Davis. This is my fiancée, Isabel. And the pint-size container of sass with her arms around Belle is Veronica.”
His grip is hard enough, I have to stifle my wince. Isabel hugs Parker, then moves to me, arms open.
I got no idea what the rules are here. But I step forward, pat her awkwardly between the shoulder blades, and hope no one notices how uncomfortable I am.
“Nice to meet the man we’ve heard almost nothing about.”
I arch a brow at Parker. She shrugs. “We have been a mite busy.”
“Eliot? Want a beer?” Connor holds one out to me, but he makes it damn clear he ain’t coming any closer to hand it over.
Well, shit.
I squeeze Parker’s hand, and give Veronica and Belle a wide berth to walk right up to Connor. The man cracks both beers, hands me one, and taps the neck of my bottle with his.
“Parker’s family, Eliot. The shit we’ve been through… If you haven’t heard it all, you will. Eventually.” He holds my gaze. “You hurt her, you answer to all of us. Got it?”
The cold sip of beer doesn’t do more than whet my whistle and give me a moment to choose my next words very carefully. “She’s important to me, Connor. More important than I realized until today. Ain’t no way I’m gonna hurt her.”
“Grace? Where should I put the seven-layer dip?” Emmylou Marsh sashays through the door, carrying a bowl covered with aluminum foil.
“Middle of the table.” Grace points, but before Emmylou can set the appetizer down, a man who’s the spitting image of AJ—if AJ had a full beard—steps out onto the deck.
His dark brows furrow. “So. You’re Flint.”
I offer him my hand. “Eliot.”
“Jasper. That’s Emi.” His footsteps are a little uneven, and I recognize the gait. Bad leg. Knee. Maybe hip too.
“Shiner?” I ask. Connor’s returned to Isabel’s side, leaving me standing alone with the beer.
“Sure.” Jasper takes the bottle I hand him, studying me.
We stand there in silence until Emi joins us, grabs her own bottle, and twists off the top. “Eliot, I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet last week. I don’t hide my friendship with Parker, but I do try not to flaunt it while I’m workin’.”
“Understandable.”
I scan the suddenly full deck. It’s a lot louder now, Belle barking at a family of ducks, AJ and Connor laughing near the smoker with Nate “supervising,” Grace and Isabel sitting with glasses of wine, heads bent toward one another, while Parker talks to Veronica.
She meets my gaze over the top of the young woman’s head, and there’s something in her eyes I can’t read.
Her shoulders are hiked up a little higher than usual, and the smile she gives Veronica is tight and a little forced.
“Excuse me for a minute,” I say, then head for Parker.
Belle bounds up onto the deck, and Veronica drops to her knees and hugs the dog with a little squeal. “How’s the bestest girl ever? Want to get your tennis ball? Come on. Let’s see if we can find it.” The two head toward the lake, leaving me and Parker alone.
The laughter and conversations quiet a single notch. Parker turns to me, wraps her arms around my waist, and rests her cheek against my chest. “You okay?” I ask, my lips close to her ear.
“Fine.” The edge to her voice says she’s definitely not fine.
I guide her to the far corner of the deck, away from everyone, and press a light kiss to her forehead. “Want to get out of here?”
She pulls back and looks at me. “I haven’t seen the guys in two weeks. Or been able to talk to Grace for more than a few minutes at girls’ night.” She draws in a slow breath, then gives me a small, determined smile. “I’m okay.”