Page 61 of Resisting Temptation

Elliot gives me a lopsided grin. “Who’s harassing you? Don’t tell me the hot chick you work with.”

I raise a brow, unimpressed by his comment. “If you think she’s hot, she’s all yours. She’s driving me crazy. I tell her I’m taking the morning off, and she’s been relentlessly texting me ever since. I don’t want to see her after what happened last night. Least not until I have some answers.”

NOAH: Working from home this weekend. If you need me, call.

I text her back, hoping it will put an end to the messages.

“Daddy, are the cupcakes ready?” asks Lacy, tearing into the kitchen, a bundle of energy in a pink-and-purple tutu. She couldn’t be any more opposite to her sister who’s in a black oversized T-shirt and baggy jeans. She stops long enough to give both me and Parker high fives as she passes us.

Mae follows along closely behind her, popping open the oven to check on her creations. “Elliot.” She says his name like he’s in trouble. “Not these ones as well.” She gasps as steam pours out of the oven.

Elliot goes to join her, assisting her in pulling the two trays out, placing them on the counter. “These ones are perfect,” he tells her, looking to both of us for support. We nod. They don’t look half as bad as the last ones. “Can I leave you and Lacy to ice them while I talk to the boys?”

“Sure. I don’t think I can screw this part up,” Mae says, sounding a little down.

Lacy takes her hand. “You won’t because I can help you. I’m excellent at icing cakes.”

Mae chuckles lightheartedly. “That’s lucky one of us is.” She bops her on the nose.

I follow Elliot and Parker into the living room, away from little ears. Elliot turns off the television his daughter left on and packs away the controller.

“What happened at the gala dinner?” Parker asks, his voice low and filled with worry.

I raise a brow; I have been dying to talk to him about this since last night. “What do you know about Mr. Giorgio from the car dealership?”

Elliot shrugs. “Bought a car there last year, but other than that, not a great deal.”

Parker’s knowing eyes meet mine. We’re neck deep in my father’s journals, but in some ways, it feels like we’re not getting any closer to getting the revenge I wanted. Every time I think we’re getting close, a new name pops up. There are so many people tangled in this mess. “Do I need to look into him?”

I lean in so the girls don’t hear. “Might be smart. He threatened me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Elliot snaps. But he doesn’t know the half of what’s going on. He’s too busy with his girls and the restaurant at The Alexander. I’m trying not to burden him with my problems.

“I heard that, Daddy. Swear jar,” Lacy calls from the kitchen.

Elliot stands, shaking his head as he takes a bill from his wallet and places it in a glass jar that saysDaddy’s bad words jar. It’s covered in little purple stars and hearts and is clearly in Lacy’s handwriting. It’s adorable.

Parker leans in closer to me, his expression more serious. It’s not just me he’s worried about, it’s his sister, and I get it after her house was broken into. Weare both a little more on edge than normal. “What did he say to you?”

“He pledged a lot of money to my campaign.” I lower my voice. “But then pulled me aside and made it clear I should break it off with Paisley because we couldn’t be associated with the Whittakers, it’s bad for business. There was something about him. You know when you get that feeling about someone. I can’t find his name in any of my father’s journals, but I know he’s involved in what happened to him.”

Parker nods, agreeing. “He doesn’t want your campaign associated with us? Something to do with my father?”

“Could be?”

“I’ll see what I can find.”

Elliot rejoins us, sitting on his coffee table. “Can I do anything to help?”

“You have your hands full already.” I laugh, trying to lighten the mood. This is supposed to be a party and here I am darkening it with all my shit.

Elliot’s eyes narrow in on me, and I know he’s not hearing what I said. He and Parker spent years in the Army together, and I’m sure he misses it. Now his duties consist of tea parties and soccer games. “What about this shady guy who keeps popping up everywhere?” he asks.

“His face is lodged in my memory, scraggly gray almost white hair, poking out under the brim of his green beanie. Black raincoat and rubber boots like he’s waiting for the storm of the century. Or he’s a fisherman.”

“That could be it, have you searched the docks for him?”

“I have been. But he didn’t show up among the others down there. I’m sure he said his name was something Lockwood.”

---