Page 28 of Evading the Enforcer

She climbs the three stairs and smiles. “What’s up, bestie?”

I laugh. “Don’t let my friend, Calista, hear you call me that. She might shank you with one of her knives.”

“One of her knives? Is she a knife fighter?” she asks, plopping down on the other end of the couch.

“No, she’s a chef.”

“She’s the one who made the crab dip we’re going to have?” she asks, looking hopeful, and I nod.

“How do you know I didn’t eat it last night?” I tease.

“That would be mean-spirited, and you’re too nice for that.”

“Regarding Calista’s crab dip, all bets are off. But you’re lucky we filled up on Chinese food, so I wasn’t hungry last night.” I push myself to my feet. “Is it too early for margaritas?” I ask.

“I’m on vacation, which means time doesn’t exist,” she states.

“I like how you think. I’ll be right back.” I head inside to heat the dip in the microwave. While that’s warming up, I mix a pitcher of my favorite alcoholic beverage. I add everything we need to a wooden serving tray and carry it back to the porch. I pour a generous amount into each glass.

“That looks like something from a magazine spread,” Maeve says.

I laugh. “Thanks. But I think Calista’s dip makes everything around it look better.”

“I don’t think that’s it. You seem to have an eye for quirky design.” She gestures around the porch.

“Thanks, but I think you mean unorthodox design. You probably can’t find many Craftsman bungalows with a Bigfoot rug and accessories.”

“Well, I love it. Bigfoot gets a bad rap. People think he’s mean and scary, but I think he’s misunderstood,” Maeve says.

“You do?”

She nods. Yeah, why?”

“I happen to agree with you.” I drag a pita chip through the dip. “You better dig in before I decide not to share.”

Maeve plucks a cracker from the tray, scooping it into the crab mixture. She bites it in half, and her eyes fall closed as she chews. The remainder gets shoved between her lips. “Mmm. Mmm. Mmm,” she hums. When she’s done, her blue eyes pop open. “That’s like an orgasm in dip form.”

I laugh. “I’m going to tell Calista you said that.”

“She has my permission to use it for marketing.”

I hear a door close, and my eyes swing to Les’s yard, but his car’s not in the driveway.

“Fuck.” Maeve groans.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. Before she can reply, a man is walking onto my porch. He looks like a younger, dark-haired version of Niall.

“Go away, Rogan.”

He doesn’t seem perturbed by her greeting. His smile only widens when he sees how annoyed she is.

“Maeve, don’t be rude. Introduce me to my new friend,” he says. His eyes are the same vibrant blue as his siblings when they meet mine.

My head cants. “Yournew friend, huh? Someone’s presumptuous.”

“Or confident.” He winks.

Oh, boy, I can tell this one’s trouble.

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