Parker rolls his eyes.“Kid, listen to me now—it’s one week.One week of kissing ass, playing nice, being a good host, and then these big Hollywood folks are going to be out of our hair and—”
“Burbank,” I remind him.
Parker makes his patented “I don’t give a fuck” face.“Say what now?”he growls impatiently.
“Wild West Studios isn’t even in Hollywood.”I sigh, pointing to their address on the Fact Sheet in front of me.“They’re in Burbank.”
“Okay, well, they still do that one big TV show, uh—uh...”Parker pretends like he knows what he’s talking about.While he blunders, blathering, pretending to come up with a name, I wait him out.“Fine, dammit.Remind me again?”
I roll my eyes.“Dang, Parker.Weren’t you the one who put this all together for me?”I wave the Fact Sheet around for good measure, surprisingly satisfied by the fluttering, flapping noise it makes above my desk.
Parker looks chagrined.“I put that together for Rachel.Like ...two weeks ago?”
“Did you remember that little fancy pants was coming in here this morning?”I ask, and before Parker can huff and puff and, more pointedly, bluff his way out of this one, I hit him with a good, old-fashioned: “Be honest, now.”
“Fine.”He sighs, sagging beneath his stiff denim cowboy shirt.“No, I plum forgot, but that doesn’t mean you had to kick him the hell out of your office, Grady.”
“Fine, yes, I get that, but ...he’s a little shit and needed to be put in his place, that’s all.”
“He’s abigshit,” Parker reminds me.“And I don’t need to remind you what kind of a hissy fit that stepmother of yours will throw if she comes back here and finds out we’ve fucked this six ways to Sunday, Grady.”
I start to speak, and Parker snaps, “And before you remind me that your precious father leftyoucontrolling stake in Parker Properties in his will, I’ll remind you that your stepmother, like her or not, has been running this place since long before the stroke that finally killed him, so...”
I glance sideways, out the nearest window.Beyond it, Lonesome Lane bustles with mid-morning foot traffic.“I know that,” I say quietly.“I get that, honestly, I do.And I appreciate it, but it’s not like I’m some total newb, right?”
“Yes, fine,” Parker concedes.“But working summers for your father didn’t quite prepare you for, you know?Taking over for him?”
“Neither will one week kissing some Hollywood type’s ass, Parker.”
“Burbank types ass,” he reminds me, glancing out the door as if for witnesses.“And, not that I’m into that or anything, obviously, but ...it wasn’t a horrible ass, now was it, Grady?”
“Stop,” I groan.The only thing worse than Parker knowing my dirty little secret is him trying to hook me up with every eligible bachelor who’s ever passed through tiny Pistol Creek, Kentucky, as a result.“I’m not doing this again.”
“Again?”
“Yeah, Parker,” I hiss, leaning closer over my desk so the whole nosy ass office suite doesn’t hear.“Again.”
“When have I ever—” Then it hits him, and he smirks.“Oh right.Printer Guy.”
“Yeah, Parker, Printer Guy.I’m not having a repeat of that particular debacle just because it’s, you know ...been a while.”
He snickers.“Wouldn’t know what that feels like, partner,” he brags, straightening his big, stupid, brass belt buckle as if to draw attention to his legendary trouser rocket.
“Yeah, well, I usually don’t either, but ...color me surprised as well.”
“Well then, partner,” he teases, leaning closer and putting on the old cowboy charm.“All the more reason to get up off that purdy little ass of yours, swallow your pride and head on down to the Cracked Egg and eat a little crow for breakfast, you hear?”
“You didn’t?”I sigh wearily, knowing that I’ll probably do just exactly that.
“I did.”
“Why, Parker?You know that prissy little city boy won’t find a lick to eat down there.”I’m already standing, as if more protective of poor Chet’s sensible dietary needs than my own insufferable pride.
“Because I knew it’d be the only way to get your bossy ass down there to save him, that’s why!”
I sigh, snatching the dossier up at the last minute.“Stop looking at me like that,” I warn Parker as he follows me to the door.
“Like what?”he asks, all innocent like.
