Page 15 of Reckless Encounters

Sloan pulls me into an embrace. “So now you guys are hanging out?” she questions in my ear.

“It’s not like that,” I hiss and pinch her butt.

“Hey, hands off my woman’s ass, Av.” Wes pulls Sloan into his side, laughing.

“She likes it,” I taunt, leaning in to hug him bye as well. “Tonight was great… I hope Claire does well with her treatments.”

“Thank you both for coming… I’m glad we were able to do this for them.”

Parker turns his attention to Lo. “Oh, and speaking of Eli, I was going totext you all tomorrow, but I arranged a private box big enough for the whole crew when the Bulls are in town next month. Once we can narrow down the game he’s likely pitching, they’ll get it all set for us.”

So, he can be nice.

“Thank you for doing that. I knew you’d have connections. It would be so much easier if my brother was a catcher or fielder, so then we could pretty much guarantee seeing him play. But thank you for arranging that on standby.”

My phone chimes with another text from Quinn. She knows watching baseball is my guilty pleasure.

“He’s going in now... Let’s go, boss,” I say to Parker, then blow Sloan one last kiss before heading toward the door.

“Bar or cocktail table?” Parker asks.

“Let’s get a table… Don’t tell Wes, but those hors d’oeuvres weren’t enough to fill me up. I need some food.”

He chuckles, and it slides over me like a new song I’ve never heard but want to keep playing on repeat.

“Table for two, please,” Parker says to the hostess. “And can you put us near a TV playing the Bulls and Orioles game?”

“Sure thing, follow me.”

Once we’re seated, it’s the bottom of the seventh inning and the Bulls are batting, so we both check out the menu while Eli isn’t on the field.

“I’m in the mood for a beer so I can pretend I’m at the game in person, but what’s that saying?” I ponder, thinking out loud. “Is it liquor before beer… No, it’s beer before liquor, never sicker…so I’m set.” I do a little dance in my seat, excited for a cold pint.

“I never thought of you as a beer girl.”

“That’s the problem... You don’t know me even though you think you do.”

The waitress stops by, and before I can speak, Parker orders. “Bring us two of your Brooklyn Summer Ales, please.” Then he looks at me with a smirk. “Do you know what you want to eat?”

I narrow my eyes at him with a playful smile. There’s always an intense energy between us, has been since the first night I met him, but this is something different, something lighthearted.

“Yes, I’ll take eight of your honey habanero wings. With ranch, please.”

“You bet,” our server says at the same time Parker speaks up again. “Make it two eight pieces and a basket of fries. Thank you.”

The waitress leaves to place our order, and I turn to Parker. “Wow, I didn’t think you ever drink anything other than whiskey.”

“Sometimes I like to be reminded of where I came from, and there was a time in my life, I could barely afford a beer, much less Blue Label or Pappy.”

That’s the first time he’s ever told me something personal…and I want to know so much more.

“What’s your excuse?” he asks.

“Well, you may think I’m a private suite and champagne kinda girl, and while I do enjoy those things from time to time, I’m much more of a mid-level in the stands, with the real fans, drinking a cold pint of beer kinda girl.”

Parker cocks an eyebrow. “You sure fooled me, brat.”

I give him a heavy eye roll as our beers are placed in front of us.

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