One Good Reason (A Boston Love Story Book 3) (13 page)

I made it without being spotted. That should be a relief.

So, why isn’t it?

Just before the door shuts at my back, it happens.

“Holy frack!” a feminine voice shouts, her excited squawk is so loud I can hear her even from this distance. “That’s
Tinkerbell
!”

Shit.

I step into the bathroom and shut the door behind me, even though I know it’s futile. She spotted me. And, if she’s anything at all like her brother, she’s not going to let it go without a confrontation.

With nowhere else to go, I enter the nearest stall and quickly bolt the door behind me. I’ve barely gotten the latch closed when I hear the outer door swing inward. I wince as the sound of stiletto heels clack across the floor, coming ever closer. Two black shiny pumps come to a stop right outside my stall.

“
Tink
!” Phoebe’s voice is impatient. “I know it’s you! You might as well come out.”

“You’ve got the wrong person.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Seriously,” I insist. “Just tying to pee in peace.”

“Lying promotes wrinkles, Tink.”

“Fuck off.”

“Don’t make me climb under the stall. These are Prada slacks.”

I roll my eyes. “I see you haven’t changed a bit, Princess.”

“HA!” Her voice is triumphant. “I knew it was you!”

Resigned to my fate, I reach forward and flip open the lock. The door swings slowly outward, revealing a pretty brunette who’s staring at me with something like adoration.

Wait… Adoration?

I don’t even have time to brace myself before she’s flung her arms around me and pulled me into a hug so tight I can barely breathe.

She’s hugging me?

“I thought I’d never see you again!” she screeches. “I’m happy I was wrong.”

“Um.” I pat her back awkwardly. “You’re touching me.”

She snorts and pulls back a bit, but doesn’t release my shoulders. “Yes, this is called a
hug
. I realize you may be unfamiliar with the concept. We’ll take it slow. Baby steps. Work our way up to rocking hugs. Back-petting hugs. Bear hugs. And my personal favorite…” She pauses, eyes twinkling. “
Tackle
hugs.”

I blink. “You’re still touching me.”

She smacks my arm lightly. “I’ve been looking for you for
months
.”

My brows lift. “Why?”

Her pretty hazel eyes widen. “To say
thank you
, genius. You saved my life.”

She’s got it all wrong.

A squirmy, uncomfortable feeling fills my stomach. “Not really.”

“What the hell do you mean?” She stares me down. “You’re my savior. My fairy freaking godmother. I’ve been trying to get Nate to track you down for
ages
but he didn’t have a lot to go on. Blonde, petite, swears a lot — not exactly enough details for a full criminal investigation.”

“Listen, you’re mixed up. I’m not your savior.” I swallow hard. “I’m not who you think I am at all. Let’s just go our separate ways and pretend it never happened, okay?”

Phoebe blinks at me. “Are you
high
?”

Without waiting for an answer, she shakes her head to dismiss my words, loops her arm through mine, and starts walking striding toward the bathroom door. “Come on, Tink, I have to introduce you to everyone. I made them wait outside while I came in to get you, but I swear half my friends think I made you up. Granted, I was a bit sleep-deprived and dazed when we met, but I wasn’t
delusional
for god’s sake.”

I dig in my heels but it’s no use — in those stilettos, she’s got at least seven inches of height on me. I’m dragged along like a deflated birthday balloon on a string.

“Wait—” I protest, searching for the right words. “I’m not— this isn’t—”

She ignores my babbles.

God, she’s just like her brother
.

“Phoebe, listen—”

“There’s really no point arguing,” Phoebe says placidly, stopping just in front of the exit. “You’re going to let me thank you properly. Now that Nate’s seen you, he’ll just track you down if you try to disappear again. Isn’t that right, Nathaniel?” she calls through the door. Her tone very clearly suggests he’d better agree with her if he ever wants sex again.

“Whatever you say, little bird.” Knox sounds amused — and
close
, like he’s standing right outside.

When Phoebe pulls the door open, I realize that’s because he
is
right outside, guarding the entrance — much to the annoyance of several girls waiting to pee. As we clear the door, his dark eyes sweep over my face, intelligent and intense in their perusal. This man misses
nothing
— not one detail. I can tell from a single glance at him that he’s everything his reputation boasts and more.

“Zoe Bloom,” Knox murmurs lowly. “Should’ve known.”

I startle — I can’t believe he knows who I am.

“You know Tinkerbell?” Phoebe hisses at her boyfriend, voice ominous. “And you didn’t tell me? You are in so much trouble!”

“Little bird, I know her name; that doesn’t mean I knew she was your foul-mouthed rescuer from eight months ago.”

“Oh,” Phoebe says, somewhat calmer. “Well, how do you know her, then?”

“That’s a good question. I’d like to know the answer, myself.” My brows arch. “Have we met?”

Knox jerks his head in the direction of the octagon, toward Luca. “You’re a friend of a friend. I like to stay informed, whenever I work with someone. Who they know, who they deal with.” His eyes hold mine and I see thoughts stirring at the back of that dark gaze. “You know Blaze… that means I made it my business to know
you
.”

There’s another sentence in his eyes, one he doesn’t say out loud.

And I don’t like what I know.

I hold his stare unflinchingly. He may be intimidating to most people, but I was raised in back alleys and on shadowed street corners. He doesn’t scare me.

I’ve seen that look he’s giving me before, too many times to count. The one that says,
Get out, you’re not wanted here. You’re dirty and dangerous. A threat.

I saw it from soccer moms and teenage girls and little kids and businessmen in fancy suits, who’d press their cellphones tighter to their ears as they hustled past my cardboard sign like I might leap up and steal their wallets. For some unfathomable reason I thought, when I left the streets, I’d never see that look again.

Apparently, I was mistaken.

“Zoe?” Phoebe says from my side, totally oblivious to the hostilities being exchanged two feet from her. “That’s your name? Zoe?”

I don’t answer. I’m too busy glaring at her boyfriend.

“Ahem!” The girl with long strawberry-blonde hair clears her throat.
Loudly
. “Phee, you ever planning to introduce us, or…?”

“Sorry, sorry! This is Tinkerbell!” Phoebe announces, grinning like a madwoman. “I mean,
Zoe
. And, Zoe, this is…” With a sweep of her hand, she points at the girls in the group, from the redhead, “…Lila,” to the willowy brunette “…Shelby,” to the platinum pixie “…Chrissy,” to the girl who looks like her sister. “…and Gemma.”

I give a half-hearted wave. They all wave back. In unison.

It would be creepy, if it weren’t so cute.

“She
is
tiny,” Gemma says, grinning.

“And you weren’t lying — great hair,” Lila adds.

“She’s the hacker chick?” Chrissy’s nose scrunches. “I was expecting goth and grunge, not jeans and a cowl-neck sweater.”

I roll my eyes. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, don’t mind Chrissy.” Shelby laughs. “She’s hormonal and sleep-deprived. Two babies in one house does that to a person.”

Chrissy elbows Shelby in the ribs.

Gemma shakes her head at both of them.

Lila glances at her phone and taps out a quick text message.

Phoebe huffs. “Nice, guys. Real nice. You decide to act like total screwballs the
one time
I have to introduce you to someone I’m trying my damnedest to keep from bolting.”

“They’re
always
screwballs,” Lila murmurs, briefly looking up from her phone. “I’m the only sane one of the bunch.”

Gemma, Phoebe, Shelby, and Chrissy all trade glances… and simultaneously burst out into uproarious laughter.

“Oh my god,” Phoebe brushes a tear from the corner of her eye. “She’s serious, isn’t she?”

Gemma’s holding her stomach, trying to catch her breath. “It’s cute.”

Chrissy and Shelby are chuckling too hard to say anything.

Lila glares at her friends. “I’ll have you know, I’m the only one here who hasn’t been involved in some kind of car chase, kidnapped and held for ransom, threatened at gunpoint, or run for my life in stilettos.”

They all go silent for a second, adopting serious expressions as they contemplate her words…

“Give it time,” Gemma says, shrugging. “Keep hanging with us, I’m sure you’ll be kidnapped eventually.”

That sets them all off again, cackling like hyenas. Lila scowls silently.

Is this what it’s like to have friends? A whole group of people who know all your shit, even the dark, scary shit, and can still somehow laugh with you about it?

I’m feeling about as awkward as a horse at a glue factory, so I start to edge backward, trying not to draw any attention. They’re so busy laughing, they don’t seem to notice I’m about to vanish into the crowd. I take another step, relief flooding my system, and suddenly my back hits something solid. It feels like stone. For a minute, I think I’ve backed straight into a wall…

Until the wall
moves
and I hear a deep male voice close to my ear.

“Going somewhere?”

Damn Knox and his fucking spidey-senses.

My spine straightens. “No.”

“Good. You disappearing would upset Phoebe. And I don’t like her upset.”

I bite my tongue to keep from snapping at him. Macho-man antics have never been my style, and this guy takes the freaking cake when it comes to bossy, alpha-male shenanigans.

He steps back — far enough that he’s no longer pressed up against me, but close enough that I know I can’t slip away into the crowd without him running interference. A few seconds later, Phoebe’s eyes lock back on mine and my escape window slips away.

“Zoe! You’re coming to my Christmas party tomorrow night. No excuses.”

My hands clench. “Sorry, I have plans.”

I have a full evening scheduled — Netflix in my pajamas, binge-watching the new season of House of Cards and eating too many peanut-butter cups to count.

“You do not,” she counters, crossing her arms over her chest. “And it wasn’t a request, Tink — sorry,
Zoe
. You’re coming. Parker made me invite almost half the WestTech staff and we need some normal people in the mix, to break up the awkward work-bonding.”

I go still at the mention of Parker’s name. It’s clear they don’t know about my connection to him; that will certainly change, if I go to Phoebe’s party.

“I really can’t.”

“Uh huh. Why’s that?” she asks.

I hesitate, contemplate lying, and finally decide to just go with the truth. “I don’t do Christmas.”

“Are you Jewish?”

“No.”

“Buddhist?”

“No.”

“Wiccan?”

“Please don’t go through every religion.” I sigh. “Like everyone in Boston, I’m a lapsed Catholic.”

“A lapsed Catholic who doesn’t do Christmas?”

“What about this are you having trouble understanding?”

She stares at me incredulously. “Everyone does Christmas.”

“Not me.”

“Well, you do this year.”

My fists clench tighter and I feel something like fear flip my stomach into somersaults. I can’t go to that party, and not just because I can’t stand to be around that much holiday cheer without curling into the fetal position.

I can’t see Parker.

Feeling pressured, I lash out like a feral cat — a method I’ve used for years, whenever I’m feeling cornered. My voice drops to a scathing whisper. “Listen, princess, I don’t know if it’s a lack of brain cells keeping you from hearing me…” I feel Nate tense at my back; I keep going anyway. “…or just plain entitled ignorance, but I’m
not
going to your fucking party.
Comprende
?”

Instead of backing off, I see something flicker in Phoebe’s eyes. It looks a lot like determination. She strides closer on those damn skyscraper heels, getting right up in my face, and glares down at me.

“I don’t know what happened to make you so miserable, I don’t know who hurt you so bad you think you have to lash out at everyone who wants to be your friend… frankly, I don’t care. You want to treat me like gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe?
Fine
. Either way, you’re stuck with me. I’m
sticking
. Deal with it.”

My mouth drops open to retort, but a growling male voice intercedes before I can.

“What’s going on? You okay, babe?” Luca steps into the ring of women surrounding me and inserts himself by my side. I hear appreciative feminine sounds from Shelby, Chrissy, and Lila as they take him in.

“That’s Blaze Buchanan,” Shelby whisper-yells.

“We know, dufus,” Chrissy fires back.

Luca stares from me to Phoebe and back again. “Babe?”

I sigh. “I’m fine. Just a little misunderstanding.”

“No misunderstanding,” Phoebe clips. “I was just inviting Zoe here to my Christmas party. She was trying to squirm her way out of it.”

Luca’s mouth twitches. “Sounds about right.”

“You’re invited too, of course,” she adds. “Though I think your presence at the party may incite riots among my friends.” She gestures at the cluster of women flanking her sides.

Luca’s eyes cut around the circle and lock on Knox. They exchange silent nods — bro-code for
hey, man, good to see you
— before Luca continues his sweep of the group. His gaze flickers past Gemma, Chrissy, and Shelby, then seems to freeze on Lila with particular interest.

To my surprise, she’s not looking at her phone. Gone is her scowl.

Her wide brown eyes are locked on Luca with one hundred percent focus. And he’s looking back at her with an intensity I’ve rarely seen from him — taking in her long, reddish blonde hair, her curvy figure, her delicate features.