Page 101 of The Wicked

“For a while, I thought so too.” I chewed at my lip, considering. “Parker, do you want to get lunch with me?”

“Not in Baldwin’s Shore. If EJ suspects we’re cooking up a plan together, my job becomes a whole lot harder.”

“In Coos Bay? Or North Bend?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Parker offered the merest hint of a smile. “Sure. Why not?”

34

SARA

Parker and I met at La Cantina, and I was tempted to ask Jack Morrow if he could give me a ride home so I could order a margarita. If ever a day called for alcohol, it was this one. Parker opted for sparkling water.

“Not hungry?” he asked, gesturing toward my barely touched nachos. Usually I loved the nachos at La Cantina. They were the perfect mix of crunch and dip, and they didn’t skimp on the cheese.

“I lost my appetite three days ago.”

“You were the one who wanted lunch.”

“I know. I guess I just wanted to talk. We’ve never really spoken before, not properly.”

“Two ships, passing in the night. Who are the guys in the SUV? Cops?”

“Garrett sent them.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So heisstill on the scene?”

“No, he isn’t.”

“I see. Is that something to do with the handcuffs?”

My cheeks burned. “You know about those?”

“Somebody had to clean up the pool house.”

Why had I thought having lunch with Parker would be a good idea?

“I wish you’d just burned the place to the ground. But no, the handcuffs weren’t the issue—it was something else.”

“Then the twins still stand a chance? They’ll be thrilled to hear that.”

“Sorry to burst their bubble, but Garrett detests them. He only goes to parties to stop his brother from doing anything dumb.”

“I can identify with that. I lost count of the number of times I stopped Easton from trashing the family’s reputation, but he still managed it in the end. His one success in life.”

“Then Marianna said, ‘Hold my beer.’”

We stared at each other for a beat, and for perhaps the first time ever, I heard Parker laugh. Not a sarcastic chuckle, but a proper belly laugh, eyes crinkled. And I realised that although I’d lost so much in the past week—my boyfriend, my heart, my nerve—I’d gained a new co-conspirator.

“You can run from karma, but you can’t hide,” he said.

“Speaking of karma, I heard a rumour the twins might get sued over a peanut allergy?”

“Only a matter of time. The complaint letter arrived yesterday, and it was glorious. Almost as glorious as Easton investing ninety-five percent of his money in crypto right before the market crashed.”

Amazing what schadenfreude could do for a girl’s appetite. I scooped up a blob of guac and chewed slowly. If Parker was telling the truth about the brokerage account—and Parker was all about subtlety, I didn’t think he’d tell such an outrageous lie—then I might inherit a third of Grandpa’s estate. Four million dollars. I could run far, far away from the monster, away from Garrett, and never worry about money again. Was it feasible to live in a beach shack? I could sit on the sand and paint sunsets for the rest of my life.

“Were you serious?” I whispered. “About the brokerage account?”

---