Chapter 2
Evander
Cal’s tone of voice assures me that there’s no real emergency.
In an actual crisis, his voice becomes as sharp as a switchblade, not the kind of pitiful whining I’m hearing right now.
“Where the hell are you?” he complains.
“In the air, going about five hundred miles an hour.”
“Well, hurry the fuck up, man. You’ve gotta save me. Finn’s got me assembling these little baggies made out of some kind of mesh fabric. He’s making me tie them up with ribbons, and I’m not sure life’s worth living anymore.”
“Tulle?”
“Huh?”
“Tulle. The fabric.”
“Yeah, I think that’s what Finn called it. But that’s not the worst part. He’s got me shoving all these little blue oblong things inside the bags. I think they’re some sort of nuts dipped in candy, but they look like Papa Smurf’s balls if you ask me.”
“They’re Jordan almonds.”
After a beat of silence, Cal says, “Of course. Jordan almonds tied up in festive tulle, you complete freak.”
I laugh. “It’s a standard party favor, Cal. It’s not my fault that you’re not civilized enough to know what Jordan almonds are.”
“Just get back here before I off myself, dude.”
I take a sip of my single malt and feel the smooth heat coat my throat. “I’ll do you one better—I’ll hurry back and off you myself. Is Special K with you right now?”
“It’s just Finn, Declan, and me at the moment, but he’s around here somewhere. Want me to get him?”
“Uh, no. But put me on speaker.”
“Do we need a secure line in the conference room?”
“Nope. I’ll tell you about the substance of the meeting once I’m home. This is something else. Let me know when everyone’s within earshot.”
I wait a minute, hearing Finn complain that he doesn’t have time to chat, but soon, all three are gathered around Cal’s phone.
“This better be good,” Finn says.
“Guess who Naval Intelligence sent to the meeting? None other than Capt. Harper Dunn-Spence.”
“Wait,” Declan says. “That’s the babe who Done-Dispensed with K’s fat ass, right?”
“That’s the one, yes. But she prefers the term ‘Captain’ over ‘babe’ because she’s an active-duty superior officer, dumb shit.”
“Was it weird?” Finn asks.
“Hell yes, it was weird. I haven’t seen her since she stomped on Kevin’s heart and squashed that sucker flat. That was about three years ago now, right?”
“What’d she say?” Declan asks.
“Nothing much. Just ‘nice to see you’ and then we got to work. I could tell she was pretty rattled sitting across the conference table from a MacLaine, though.”
“Yeah, since she almost was one,” Cal says.
“Is she married now?” Finn asks.
“Hell if I know. I didn’t see a ring, and I didn’t ask.”
“Should we tell K that you—”
“HELL NO!”
Finn, Cal, and I shout our answer to Declan in unison, the exact same words at the exact same decibel level.
“What’s going on?” I hear Special K walk into the room.
“Oh shit,” Declan says.
“It’s Evander on speaker,” Finn says.
“So?”
“He’s on his way home from London.”
“And?”
Cal clears his throat. “He saw Harper at the meeting.”
I hear nothing for several long seconds. Then Special K says, “Cool.” I hear his footsteps in retreat. “I’m headed out. Gonna take the flatbed to Tahoe to pick up the snow-making machine you want for the wedding, Finn.”
“You don’t have to do that right now,” Finn says.
“No time like the present, right?” I hear Kevin slam the door.
“Yikes,” Finn whispers.
“Yikes is right,” Cal says. “Our poor, helpless baby brother is driving to Tahoe because Finn thinks there has to be at least seven inches of pristine white snow on the ground in order for it to qualify as a Winter Wonderland. And since there’s no snow in the forecast, he wants a snow machine on hand. ”
“It’s not what I think, it’s what Emma wants,” Finn snaps. “She wants a Winter Wonderland, not a dried-out dust bowl, so it’s my job to give her exactly that. Now get back to making my fucking party favors!”
I hang up, shaking my head. Finn’s lost his damn mind.
And as much as I like the visual of take-no-shit Special K serving as the wedding gopher, I don’t like that he’s still hurting over Harper. He’s never said a word about it, of course, because he doesn’t talk about anything. But we know.
Because we know him.
I close my eyes to get some rest. It’s an eleven-hour flight, and with the time difference, I’ll be landing at about nine a.m.
Oh no.
My eyes fly open as I realize my error. If I get back that early, I’ll be at Finn’s beck and call all day long.
I’m tempted to ask the pilot to take the long way around the globe.