Chapter Twenty-Four
Parker’s background check came back so squeaky clean Max had Candy dig deeper—twice—just to be sure. Not that he wanted to find something. He just needed to know that Parvati was in good hands.
Part of him was relieved that Parker Simmons seemed to be the nice, boring guy that Parv thought he was. But another part—a part he wasn’t proud of—couldn’t help the bitter spike of frustration that there were no skeletons in his closet that Max could use to drive so-called-Perfect Parker away.
Not that he would have done that.
Okay, yes, he would have done it. But it would have been for Parvati’s own good. He was looking out for her. As a friend, damn it.
At least they were back on speaking terms. He may have missed his window, but he hadn’t completely screwed up their friendship.
He still wanted to meet this Parker, to get a read on him personally, but Parv didn’t seem to be in any hurry to make that happen and he wasn’t going to push. But he was going to be ready with an unmarked grave if Perfect Parker ever laid a finger on her.
* * * * *
The letter arrived on a Saturday morning, hand-delivered by her landlady.
“Here it is!” Carolina announced cheerfully as she handed over the envelope. “The official notice.”
Parv frowned as she accepted the bulging white packet. “Official notice?”
Carolina’s face fell. “Oh no. Antonio said he would call you.”
Dread congealed. “Call me about what?”
“We’re moving. It started to feel wasteful, keeping the house in Eden when all the kids are in college and we’re spending most of the year on the boat anyway. You know better than anyone how rarely we’re here.”
“I do,” Parv admitted numbly, her thoughts racing ahead to the inevitable.
“We hadn’t really considered selling until a buyer approached us with a cash offer and it just seemed perfect. I’m so sorry. Antonio was supposed to contact you about this weeks ago.”
“The new buyers…”
“Want to use the mother-in-law apartment. I can talk to them about letting you stay on for a month or two—until you can find something else. I’m going to kill Antonio.”
Parv muttered something vaguely understanding, barely aware of her surroundings. She hadn’t had a formal lease agreement with Carolina and Antonio in years. They were casual and month-to-month—which she’d thought was convenient if she ever got on Marrying Mister Perfect or fell madly in love with a tycoon and decided to run away to Monte Carlo with him, but in retrospect just meant she wasn’t protected against a situation like this one. “How long do I have?”
“We close in three weeks. You’ll need to be out by March first, unless we can negotiate an extension.”
Three weeks.
She started to call Max as soon as Carolina retreated back to the main house, standing in her lovely little apartment with the sobering realization that she would never be able to afford anything half this nice…and she wasn’t sure she could meet the income requirements to get an apartment on her own. She might have to sublet a room in someone else’s place. At thirty. When her friends were getting married and buying houses, she was reverting back to a college mode of living.
Max picked up on the second ring. “Hey.”
She didn’t bother with pleasantries. “I’m being evicted.”
“What? I thought your landlords loved you.”
“They do. But they’re selling. I thought month-to-month gave me all this freedom, but it turns out it’s also the freedom to be kicked out with three weeks’ notice.”
“Crap. What are you gonna do?”
“House hunt, I guess. Though I have to admit it’s tempting to pull a Max and run off to Thailand and leave all this bullshit behind—maybe the Peace Corps is hiring.”
“Hey. You aren’t going anywhere. I have a perfectly good guest room with your name on it until you can find something better. You can pay me in baked goods.”
“I can’t do that, Max.”
“Why not? I’m your friend and I want to help you out. So let me. Unless you think Parker would object.”
Parv froze. She’d forgotten about Parker. Was that a bad sign? Wasn’t she supposed to run to him when these things happened? Though they were still new. She just wasn’t in the habit of relying on him yet. Though it hadn’t been a hard habit to get into with Max.
“What did he say when you told him?” Max asked.
“I haven’t talked to him yet,” she admitted. “He has to work today.” Though the excuse felt weak. She hadn’t even thought of him. Her first instinct had been Max.
“I’m serious about you staying with me.” Max’s voice was unbearably comforting. And strangely enough it was Parker’s presence in her life that made her comfortable answering the way she did.
“I might take you up on that.”
* * * * *
Parker rose from their usual booth at the sushi restaurant they’d gotten in the habit of visiting on Saturday nights, smiling a greeting. “Hey, babe. You look great. Good day?”
“Actually it was lousy,” Parv admitted, sliding into the booth opposite him, irrationally annoyed that he couldn’t tell her day had sucked. “I’m losing my apartment.”
Parker went still behind his menu, chin tucked down, only his pale blue eyes moving, evading her gaze. “What are you going to do?” he asked, after a barely noticeable pause.
But she did notice. And though he’d used the same words Max had, they sounded completely different. Perfect Parker almost seemed scared. As if he knew the Good Boyfriend would immediately ask her to move in with him and the idea horrified him so much he couldn’t face it.
Not that she wanted to move in with him. She knew it was too early for that—and moving in together too soon just because she was desperate sounded like a good way to kill a budding relationship—but the fact that his reaction to the thought seemed to be fear didn’t exactly inspire confidence.
Of course she would have been the strong, independent woman who said no and stood on her own two feet—or leaned on Max—but she wanted Parker to at least want to take care of her.
The last year had been a process of breaking down and stripping away the life she’d had—her friends, her job, now her home. This was just the cherry on top. Her boyfriend hitting the panic button at the idea of something more permanent with her.
“I have a friend who’s willing to let me crash in his guest room. At least until I can find something else—since I have so little notice.”
Parker visibly brightened. “Good. That’s good.” Then his brows pulled together. “His guest room? Is this that Max? The one you say you hang out with sometimes?”
“Yeah.” And then—even though she knew she shouldn’t, even though she knew it would be picking a fight, she looked him dead in the eye and challenged, “Is that a problem?”
Parker set down his menu. “Exactly how close are you?”
She knew Parker was insecure about being cheated on, knew he had a tendency to veer toward jealousy at the slightest little hint that she was interested in someone else, but she told herself he had to trust her, that she was justified in pushing this button.
“How close are you and Jenna?”
He flushed at the mention of the female friend who used his place as a landing pad whenever she and her off-again-on-again boyfriend were on the outs—which seemed to be every other weekend. “That isn’t the same.”
“Because I’ve never slept with Max and you dated Jenna for two years when you were in college? Is that how it’s different?”
“We’re just friends.”
“And so are Max and I.” And if she was a little extra defensive about that, no force on earth would have made her admit it in that moment. “And I’m lucky he has someplace for me to crash.” Since Perfect Parker seemed to have no interest in being her white knight. Not that she needed one. But the man sure knew how to wreck a fairy tale fantasy. “Should we order?”
* * * * *
“Are you sure you don’t need help moving your stuff into my place?” Max wedged his phone between his ear and shoulder, waving Pretty Boy into his office when he knocked on the open door.
“No. Parker’s going to help me. Since your furniture is so much nicer than mine, my crap is all going into a storage unit and we’re mostly just bringing over boxes.”
“Okay, but give me a call if you need anything. I’m happy to force my employees to do physical labor for you.” Pretty Boy made a face. “See you later, Parv.”
She would be in his house when he got home that night. He tried not to get too excited by the thought. He was helping out a friend. Nothing more. A taken friend. Who was moving her stuff in with her boyfriend as he hung up the phone.
“Parvati’s moving in with you?” Pretty Boy asked as he set his phone on his desk. “I always thought she was cute.”
“She’s off limits.”
“Well, of course she is, if she’s moving in with you.”
“It isn’t like that,” Max explained.
“No? That why you almost jumped across your desk and throttled me when I said she was cute?” Max glared and Pretty Boy grinned his lazy, easy grin. “Never mind. You do you, Boss. What did you want to see me about?”
“I wanted to ask you about Candy.”
Pretty Boy’s open expression instantly closed. “What about her?”
“I don’t know what’s going on with you two and I don’t want to. I just wanted to know if you’d noticed her having any problems with clients lately.”
“You mean Hank the Hammer.”
Max swore under his breath. He’d hoped his gut was wrong, but Pretty Boy hadn’t hesitated for a second. “Is he harassing her?”
“Not that she admits,” Pretty Boy said. “But I don’t think he’s calling all the time just because he’s worried about darling Cherish.”
Max grimaced. The Hammer had called at least half a dozen times trying to get Max to assign Candy as Cherish’s full time, live-in bodyguard, refusing to accept his referrals to other close protection services or his insistence that Candy didn’t do that kind of work. He’d suspected Hank wasn’t leaving it at that, but Candy tended to keep her troubles close to the vest, so he hadn’t known for sure.
But if Pretty Boy was worried too, he would take a more active stance. No client—no matter how big a star they thought they were—had the right to try to intimidate one of his people.
“You think she’ll talk to you about it?” Max asked.
“I doubt it, but I’ll give it a shot if you want.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“You got it, Boss.”