Bo raises an eyebrow in question as we enter. “And should we expect you in the show, Anna-Maria?” he asks.
“Yes. I’m doing the show.”
The women standing around jump up and down, clapping, before they rush to her side and give her hugs and words of affirmation.
I make my way to Bo.
“I see you were working your magic again. Care to tell me what worked? You were in there a long time with her.”
I frown. “Do you think I hit on her or was doing something inappropriate?”
Bo sucks a breath through his teeth. “Well . . . you do have a track record with clients . . .”
I sock him in the arm. “Brother. She’s married! And I’m with Sky. I’d never fuck over Sky like Kayla fucked me over. Not ever.” I scowl and wish I’d socked my best friend a little harder. Maybe wipe that smug look off his face.
Bo grins. “Dude. I so had you!” He laughs. “I figured you were in there singing ‘Kumbaya’ or some shit.”
I shake my head. “Not quite. I let her do the routine alone in her lingerie. First with the robe on, then without. Gave her the time to assess herself, see what all of us see. Get her more comfortable with revealing her body to an audience.”
“Damn, with those titties and that ass, I’m sad I missed the show.” Bo plucks at his goatee with his eyes running up and down Anna-Maria, probably trying to see through her robe.
I groan and scrub my hand over my face. “You make me want to punch you again.”
He shrugs. “I have that effect on some people.”
“Anyway, the results are good. I’ll call over to T-Bone and let him know we’ve worked it out.”
“Good work, man.”
“Thanks. Pub tonight? I need a freakin’ beer. Got into it with Sky earlier today.”
“Shit, man, yeah. Course. I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Is it all good between you two?”
I nod and sigh. “Yeah. Had to tell her about Kayla.”
Bo visibly shudders. “Yuck. That had to suck. Talking about that bitch.”
“Yep. Basically. Though I think we worked out some of our jealousy shit.”
He cocks a brow and gets closer. “Yeah? She done bitching about Sophie?”
Bo knows the jealousy over Sophie is grating on my nerves. I understand it’s hard for Skyler to see Sophie’s just a friend, especially when she was a client and a former bedmate. She doesn’t yet see how it all changed the moment I met her. Skyler’s the woman I’m with, and I want her to get that in a way where she’s not worrying about anyone else. I’d never stray. Especially not after feeling the shit I felt when Kayla cheated on me. No way I’d do that to another person, which is part of the reason why I didn’t get into a relationship again until now. Like I’ve said before, Skyler is a game changer. I need her to see it for herself.
I let out a long breath. “Hope so. We’ll talk more later. Over beers, yeah? Just us,” I add, not wanting him to invite one of the coaches or the model he bedded.
“Hey, you need me, I’m there, brother. Any day, any hour, any minute.”
I clap him on the back of the neck and squeeze. He pats my back in return.
“Thanks, brother.”
“No thanks needed. It’s what families do.”
8
I toss back some of beer number two before biting into a chunk of beef from my giant burger. I balked when the bartender served the two burgers with potato chips. The thing could have its own zip code it’s so big. At least a solid six inches high, with a wedge pickle and long strips of bacon sticking out the sides. Definitely a thing of beauty, but finishing the damn thing will be a task and a half. Still, I’m up for the challenge.
Cheers Pub is tucked into a nondescript street in Milan. Half of the street seems to cater to lower-rent apartments or condos, and the other half has been gentrified. If I had to guess, it will only look more modern as time passes. The nicer buildings have new paint, flower boxes in the windows with ornate wrought iron encasements, whereas the apartments directly across the street definitely need a bit of resurfacing.
The bar, however, could easily fit in with an average neighborhood in Anywhere, America. They definitely have their Americanisms down pat. Sure, there are some things in Italian, but most everything seems to cater to the American shtick, even the name of the place, Cheers, like the old TV show my parents used to watch when I was a kid. It feels familiar and comfortable. Exactly what I need after the week we’ve had and the conversation between Sky and me.
The floors are wooden slats, as are the bar, tables, and stools. Bo and I are sitting at the bar in front of the brass tanks aptly boasting “Tank Beer” from a brewery called Pilsner Urquell. The beer is a blond lager from the Czech Republic. I find it oddly interesting that the pub’s most common beer on tap or tank is a lager from a country other than its own. Then again, what do I know? I like beer. Mostly craft brews. I’m sure if I told my father about the beer he’d know every detail: who made it, what the taste should be like, and what would be best to eat with it. He’s kind of a beer snob, though he prefers the term guru.
“All right, you’ve had your beer; you’ve got your burger and your brother’s ear. I think those fill the three-Bs requirement.”
I frown. “What do you mean, the three Bs?”
Bo smirks. “Dude. Anytime you want to talk about something weighing down your mind, you always ask for one of your brothers to go out and have burgers and beer. Three Bs.”
I chuckle, then take a healthy pull from my pilsner. “Is that right?”
Bo shrugs and turns to the side, resting a hand on his inner thigh as he widens his legs, getting more comfortable. He rests his left elbow on the bar and leans his weight into it. “Come on, tell me what happened with Skyler. Did you screw it up?”
“You’re assuming I screwed it up already?” I scoff.
“Man, I don’t know. You’re surly, and you look like someone snuck up behind you and screamed boo in your ear, sending you jumping out of your chair. What am I supposed to think?”
I rub at my temples and look at my enormous burger. We should have halved it, but that isn’t manly. Besides, Bo can pack away a lot of food. I think all the fucking he does burns off all the calories. Although he does hit the gym as often as I do.
“Parker, come on. Lay it on me, man, and I’ll see if I can help.”
I run my thumb up and down the glass, watching the condensation slip away. “As I told you, I gave Skyler the important parts about Kayla and how she screwed me over.”
He nods. “And?”
“And nothing. She’d said I was holding back. Not telling her why I was so against the concept of a relationship in the beginning. So I told her.”
“And now?”
“I’m all in, brother. Scared as fuck. Giving it my best, but I can’t say I’m good at it. I don’t know the right things to say half the time. And then of course, her jealousy toward Sophie, mine toward her costar, Rick.” I sigh and twist my glass left and right in order to keep my hands busy.
“Onion breath? I’d imagine that alone takes him off any potential attraction lists regardless of how he looks.”
“Breath is easy to fix, man.”
“True enough, but a woman never forgets that shit.”
“I guess.” I pop a chip into my mouth and think about what’s really bothering me. “Then there’s the bit about her mentioning getting a place in Boston.”
Bo’s eyes widen. “Say what?”
“Yeah.” I swallow down another large dose of beer, needing the warmth in my gut.
“Her moving to Beantown is a lot heavier than being exclusive and seeing one another on the fly like you are now.” Bo nails it.
I nod. “Don’t I know it.”
“Shit.”
“Yep.”
“Fuck.”
“You could say that again,” I mutter.
“What do you think about her moving to Boston? Gut reaction.” His intense gaze is crit
ical, analyzing my every response.
I grin and give him the side-eye. “It would be a whole lot easier to get into her panties more often.”
Bo laughs heartily. “I hear that. What’s your second thought?”
I purse my lips, mulling it over. “It would be nice. Having her close. Being able to meet up for dinner and shit. Take her out. Dinners with the family. With you guys. It’s a life I’d always thought I’d have.”
“Is it a life you want?” he says, digging.
“With Sky? Yeah, but she’s also a celebrity, man. There’s no normal for us. Never will be. The paparazzi are always going to be down our throats.”
“But you’ve got protection for that.” He frowns, waiting for my counter excuse like the good friend he is. Helping me work out my shit.
“Yeah, the Van Dykens are great. Still, what happens down the road when we have kids—”
Bo lifts up his hands in front of me, palms facing out. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back the truck up. Did you say kids?”
I scrub my face and look his way. “Yeah, man. I did. Want ’em someday. Don’t you?”
Bo plucks at his goatee and sighs. “Never thought much about it, truthfully. Not sure I have the fatherhood gene inside me. Never had one to compare to except Pops. My father left long before I could walk. Grandfather wasn’t in the picture neither.”
“Sorry, brother.”
“Nuthin’ to be sorry about. You can’t miss what you never had. And my mother and sisters took good care of me. Taught me everything I need to know about women.” He grins salaciously.
I frown, ignoring his quip. “I always imagined one day I’d have the house, picket fence, pretty wife, two kids and a dog, barbecues on the back patio, the whole nine. I turn thirty this year, and time is creeping up on me.”
“You’re not old, brother. Relax. Give yourself and this thing with Sky a little time. Let it unfold naturally, you feel me?”
I inhale a full breath, then let it out before raising my now-empty glass to the bartender. “When she mentioned uprooting her life, for me . . .” I shake my head. “No woman has ever put me first like that. And she’s Skyler freakin’ Paige. My dream girl. The woman I always compared women to. The idea of her, anyway. And then I meet the real thing, and she’s so much more. Fuck, man, I don’t know. Skyler’s the real deal.”
Bo lifts his chin. “I feel ya, but remember, you thought that about Kayla, and the bitch fucked you over. This is the first woman you’ve allowed in since her. How’s about you not worry so much about the future and appreciate what you’ve got right now. You feed this thing with Skyler, and it will grow into something permanent. Maybe she’s your picket fence, maybe not. Only time will tell. Did she say she was packing her shit and moving out next week?”
I chuckle at the exasperation in Bo’s voice. “Nah, man, she dropped the bomb and then told me to chew on it.”
He laughs. “I like her. Funny chick.”
“She can be. And beautiful, and fuckhot in the sack, sweet, charming, thoughtful, good with her mouth . . .” I grin.
“Hoo-boy!” Bo fans his face and winks. “Keeper for sure.”
“Yeah. Keeper.”
“Then I say you stick with that. Give it the time it needs, enjoying the hell out of every minute. If things get heavy again, you talk to me or Royce, and we’ll set your ass straight.”
I lift my fist, and Bo bumps it with his own. “Another beer?” I say.
“Fuck yes. Dying of thirst over here.”
I laugh and lift up my glass and point to Bo’s this time. The bartender nods and sets about getting our refills.
“Thanks, Bo.”
“I’ll put your shit in check anytime. Now . . . let’s back up and go into detail on the part you mentioned where Skyler was good with her mouth. I’d like to hear more about that.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
He doesn’t see the punch to the shoulder coming, but he feels it. I’ll bet it’s white hot against his bicep too.
“Deserved,” I growl as he rubs at his arm.
“Too true,” he admits without shame.
“Yo, brother!” Royce answers his cell phone in his deep rumble, but it’s his smiling face I’m looking forward to. “Since when do you FaceTime?”
I grin into the screen. “Skyler taught me its benefits.”
He runs a hand over his bald head and tilts it as if he’s checking himself out. “I’ll just bet she did.”
“Anyway . . . I’m calling because your text said it was urgent. What’s going on?”
Royce purses his full lips. “Press been calling day and night, man. Blowin’ up the IG offices and pissing our girl off. We need to do something about the statement that went out about you and Skyler last week.”
I frown. “I’m sorry it’s hitting you guys back home. I’m not sure what the best plan is. I’ve been focused on this project and, uh, other things. Hadn’t realized you guys were taking the heat back home.”
“Nuthin’ I can’t handle, but it would be nice to nip this thing in the bud, sooner rather than later.”
“Yeah, I can see that. I’ll call Tracey, Sky’s agent, and find out what she thinks is best. What have you been saying to them so far?”
He shakes his head. “No comment. Hanging up the second they speak. Still they’re like vultures on a carcass. They keep pecking until they get what they want.”
I nod. “Okay. I’ll call her after we’re done. How’s everything else?”
“Right as rain. I’ve consulted on a few more financial things with Sophie, which has given us a nice payout. Closed a couple of easy cases. Even got Wendy looking into some and giving her perspective. However, I think I’ll be traveling the next project with you and having Bogey hold down the fort.”
“Yeah? What’s next? You mentioned something about San Francisco?”
He nods and rests his head against the back of his black leather chair. “Financial company. CEO needs help finding a mate.”
“A mate? Does she have someone in mind? Usually when we’re matchmaking it’s because the woman wants help getting the attention of someone she already has a crush on. Is that the case?”
“Nope.” Royce’s inflection accentuates the p sound in nope.
I rub at my eyebrows, running my thumb and forefinger across the building tension I’m feeling. “What am I missing?”
“Not a thing. The woman’s beautiful, intelligent, with a wicked-hot body, and wants us to find her a man. Says she’s tired of dating narcissistic, gold-digging, wannabe players. I’m helping her set up her profile now. We’re going to rock this old school. Like the Million Dollar Matchmaker show. You seen it?”
I blink a few times, trying to determine if I’m in a dream or real life. “Did you just ask me if I watch a reality TV program? The only shit I watch on TV is sports, and half the time, even that’s on DVR.”
“Patti Stanger, she’s the shit. She’s got her matchmaking on lock.”
I close my eyes and open them again, focusing on his smiling face. “I’ll take your word for it. What does this have to do with our client?”
He runs a hand down his blue tie, his onyx cufflinks a nice touch against his white dress shirt and black suit. “I want to try my hand at the matchmaking end of things. We haven’t done a cold matchup before, and I plan to dig into this one.”
I purse my lips and smile as his eyes flit from one side to the other; he’s not looking at me directly. He coughs into his hand and clears his throat.
“Why?”
He frowns, his eyebrows black against his dark-chocolate skin. “Last I checked, we owned this business together, and I didn’t need a reason to want to work a client.” His tone is argumentative and a bit more forceful than he’d normally have reason to use. There’s something he’s not telling me.
I smile wide. “No reason needed, I just wanted one. Who’s the client?” I prod.
He compresses his lips into a flat line. “Rochelle Renner.”
&
nbsp; “And what does Ms. Renner look like?”
Royce narrows his gaze at the camera. “Does it matter?”
I smile, knowing I’m goading him, and I don’t care. He’s my brother; it’s my job. “Not sure. Just want to know what we’ll be working with.”
Royce nonchalantly sets the phone down against something so I can see his entire chest from his waist up and flips open a file before pulling out a five-by-seven image. He turns the image to the camera.
I start laughing instantly.
“Brother . . . ,” I gasp, staring at one of the hottest black chicks I’ve seen since I laid eyes on Halle Berry in Swordfish, a movie Roy made me watch. And he made me watch it because she was in it, and you get a full view of the woman’s rack. Which is sweet.
“Don’t you ‘brother’ me. Just because our client is a fine-ass sister—”
“Uh-huh.” I shake my head. “If you want to play it cool and not let on the real reason you’re interested, I’ll leave it at that. However, I’m guessing the next suggestion you’re gonna make is you should be matched with her?” I smirk.
Royce’s face goes completely blank. “I’m not even going to dignify your question with a response. Finish what you gotta do over in Milan and get your ass back so we can head to Cali.”
I shake my head. “No can do. I’m visiting Sky on my way back. At least two days. Need them, man. I’ll head back home on Wednesday, but give me two days.”
He purses his lips as if he’s going to kiss the screen, but I know it’s because he’s got one helluva pucker. “It’s all good. Take your days. Send Bo back. I’ve got to load him up on work or he’ll be flirting with Wendy the entire time we’re on the West Coast.”
I chuckle. “True dat. Which means, if he’s not busy, Sir Mick will be visiting, and I really don’t want to come back to find Bo strung up by his tighty-whities.”
“Mm-hmm. You call your girl’s agent. Find out what approach we should take. Want this to be easy on you and Sky, but we need to get them to lay off IG.”
“I agree. I’ll hit’cha back later, yeah?”
Royce offers a chin lift and a thoughtful “Peace” before hanging up.
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