Page 7 of Playing With Love

“Hey, Tucker, join us,” Wren said around a beaming smile.

Kill me now.

Even in my discomfort I couldn’t stop myself from being happy for my friend. The man who’d sworn off love. Now Phoenix was married, in the process of adopting his wife’s son, Griff, from her first marriage, and with any luck he and Wren would be popping out mini-Phoenixes soon. Or better yet, mini-Wrens. The man needed to be a girl-dad.

“Thanks, Wren, but I don’t want to intrude. I can wait⁠—”

“Don’t be silly, sit. We need to leave soon to pick up Griff from basketball practice.”

I heard the chair next to mine scrape as Tucker pulled it away from the table. Before I could brace against the onslaught of emotions, Tucker was seated next to me.

“Where’s Frank?”

Without looking at the man of my dreams now sitting beside me I answered, “Upstairs in his room, probably dicking around on his phone instead of reading the last brief we were sent.”

Not that I was going over the brief either. But I would as soon as I made it to my room. It was unlikely Frank set his eyes on the report, which meant he’d rely on me to give him the bullet points.

Lazy ass.

“Did you talk to Wilder?” Tucker inquired.

I stole a side-eye glance, finding Tucker looking at Phoenix.

“Yeah. He felt stupid for not thinking anything about putting Allyson and Jessica in interrogation. He won’t do it again.”

Ah, so Tucker had the same thoughts I did about where the interview had taken place. Of course he did, we always thought alike. In the past it had worked for us, worked in our that favor we could communicate without words. A single brow lift or tilt of his jaw and I could read him.

Damn him.

And these memories.

And damn all the questions I had about Tucker knowing Phoenix and working with Triple Canopy, something I’d learned when I called my Branch Chief, Shannon O’Conner. A conversation I should’ve had when she told me we were meeting Allyson at the station along with an “expert”. I had assumed the person’s expertise would surround cults, not undercover work and interrogation. Not only was it a mistake, it was a costly one.

I shouldn’t have cared, but I did.

My phone rang. I quickly snatched it off the table and in my haste to silence the damn thing, I fumbled it. I watched in horror as it bounced off the table straight into Tucker’s lap. Without thinking I reached over and grabbed my phone. When I straightened Tucker cleared his throat. Phone now in hand I glanced over at him and was momentarily stunned by his wide, white, dazzling smile.

I was too busy controlling my breathing to realize that smile had turned into a smirk.

“You good?”

Well, fuck me sideways.

“Peachy,” I snapped.

It was sheer force of will that had me tearing my gaze from Tucker to my phone screen.

My stomach clenched.

“Sorry I have to take this.”

I pushed back from the table hurriedly, answering the call knowing my father was already going to be annoyed it had taken me this long to answer his call. If it went to voicemail I’d never hear the end of it.

“Hey, Dad. Sorry it took⁠—”

“Hey, Dad?” he repeated on an angry sigh. “It’s ‘hello’, Liza, not ‘hey’. We’re civilized or at least I am so please refrain from using slang.”

Off to a great start.