Page 58 of Wood You Rather?

“Parker,” he said, his tone angry. “What note?”

I took a deep breath, trying to figure out how best to defuse this situation. “Someone left a note on my windshield. Telling me to back off and calling me a pig.”

“When?”

“Four days ago,” I replied, shrinking into the passenger seat.

“Four fucking days? Someone threatened you, and you waited four days to tell me?” His face was red, and he was gripping the steering wheel so tightly I thought he might snap it off.

“This is my job,” I said firmly. “I deal with shit like this all the time. And yes, I’m terrified that my cover is blown, but in the meantime, I’m going to keep working my ass off to solve this case.”

I cannot believe I let it slip. I was clearly losing my touch. Because while PI work was rarely glamorous, it was filled with shady people who generally did not like it when a person was poking around in their business. I’d received far worse threats before.

“We should tell someone.”

I laughed. “Who? My asshole ex who belittled me in front of you? Or the local police, who have done nothing about the rampant criminal activity occurring in this town for years and may even be actively involved in it?”

He put his head down until it touched the top of the steering wheel. “You’re right.”

“I’m sorry you’re stuck with me. I’ve been covering my tracks carefully.”

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t apologize. I’m glad you’re here, and I’m glad you’re on our team.”

“Thanks. I promised you I’d help get justice for your father. And I like being here. You’re a pain in my ass, but I like you.” I pressed my lips together and turned to him. “You’re much smarter than you look.”

“Wow, thanks.”

I shrugged. “You come off like this total superficial jerk. And that’s what you want people to think, isn’t it? But you’re so much more. You are thoughtful and kind and empathetic.”

“Unlike Agent Asshole,” he quipped, pinning me with a sharp glare. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was jealous. “That guy sucks.”

He wasn’t wrong. Bryce was a one-man red flag factory. Every day revealed another layer of his shitty personality. He drove too fast. Like his Ford hatchback was a Lamborghini. His mother would stop by and do his laundry and drop off new containers of protein powder. And in hindsight, it was obvious that since I wasn’t a fed, he’d thought he was “dating down.” The bastard had broken up with me when my career tanked. Didn’t want the stain on his perfect record.

I shouldn’t have dated him in the first place, never mind put up with his shit for two years. But it was inertia. He was around, and my father approved. I didn’t have to put in any effort. With him or with myself.

That was the crux of it. Doing the work was hard. Thinking and processing and analyzing. Trying to grow and shit. I hated it. When I was with Bryce, I wasn’t alone. I didn’t have to do the whole midthirties figuring out my life drama. I went to work and came home and saw him when I felt like it.

But now I was committed to growth and evolution. And pushing myself to develop and exceed my own expectations rather than my father’s.

“How is that man still in possession of his testicles?” Paz asked, buckling his seat belt. “The Parker I know would have ripped his off for daring to speak to her that way.”

“I don’t want to do this.” I shook my head. “Get into all our baggage and shit.”

“Why not? You’re well acquainted with mine. Seems only fair I get a peek of yours.” He shifted the car into reverse and backed out of his parking space.

I sighed. He was right. He deserved some context for what he had just witnessed. Except I wasn’t in the habit of talking about my exes, and the last thing I wanted to do was relive my totally dysfunctional two-year relationship with Bryce.

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“Let’s pick up a pizza, then you can tell me about it,” he said, his eyes full of sincerity and his normally stern features soft.

I nodded. Pizza sounded good. Sexy snuggles sounded better, but I’d take what I could get. “He picked my dad over me.”

“I guarantee you give better blow jobs.”

I paused. “Pascal Gagnon, did you just make a blow job joke?” I punched him in the arm.

He gave me a wink. “I think I did.”

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