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Unfortunately, I was the only one who didn’t immediately notice. Three heads turned as we approached the table, and three pairs of eyes zeroed in on our clasped palms.
I blushed and yanked my hand away almost guiltily, but judging by their reactions, it had been way too late to pretend the hand-holding had been anything but what it was. Tiller looked surprised but thoughtful. Mikey looked surprised and concerned. And Rocco didn’t look surprised at all. His lips twitched up in a knowing little smirk that might have been sexy if I weren’t still drunk off the scent of my best friend.
“You must be Parker.” Rocco stretched out a hand to shake. “Seems kind of unbelievable that we’ve never been formally introduced, doesn’t it? I’m Rocco Valentine.”
“I remember,” Parker grumbled, shaking the man’s hand half-heartedly. He muttered something under his breath that sounded like, “Still sounds like a porn star name.”
I was pretty sure Rocco heard him, but if anything, his smile only deepened.
“You’re one to talk, Shortbread,” I whispered.
“Can it, Peanut,” he shot back.
“Rocco, this is Parker Ellis,” Tiller cut in smoothly. “World Cup champion, former Olympian, and all-around downhill badass.” He recited Parker’s accomplishments like he thought that might make us behave ourselves. “And this is Rockley Lodge’s beloved attorney…”
“Julian Thick,” Rocco finished, aiming a broad smile at me. “Parker’s man.”
“Best man.” I laughed nervously. “You mean best man.”
“Ah, obviously. My mistake.”
Parker scowled at me, but I quickly pushed him onto one side of the booth beside Tiller, while I sat on the other end, beside Rocco.
“So, Peanut and Shortbread.” Rocco raised an eyebrow. “I feel like there’s a story there.”
“Oh, not a good one,” I assured him. “Unless you enjoy stories about ten-year-olds left unsupervised with an entire case of Girl Scout cookies my sister was supposed to sell door-to-door.” Hazel still brought that up from time to time.
Rocco laughed quietly. “Actually, that’s better than how one of my brothers got his nickname.” He winked. “There may have been a citation for public indecency involved.”
Maybe I was nervous from the WTF looks Mikey kept leaning around Rocco to give me, or feeling antsy because Rocco was being flirtatious, or just giddy because every time I saw Parker’s grumpy glare I remembered being inside him, but either way, I started laughing at Rocco’s comment and couldn’t stop. Between snorts, I tried explaining myself until I could barely catch my breath.
Rocco asked, “Is he okay?”
As Parker watched me giggle uncontrollably, his face softened, and then he began laughing, too. “He’s fine. He’s remembering the time I was literally arrested for public indecency.”
“Time?” I squeaked. “Try times. With an ess.”
When I finally calmed down, I had to tell at least part of the story. “He was at a ski thing, and he… and he…” The laughter came back harder than ever. Thankfully, Tiller was able to continue the story.
“So Parker was on the pro tour—which, let me just point out, we’re talking about his third arrest for indecent exposure—and he needed to take a piss before his next run.”
Parker cut in. “To be fair, skiers always pee off to the side somewhere instead of trying to fight our way to the portables or figure out where the athlete bathrooms are. Takes too long.”
Tiller flapped his hand to shut him up. “I’m telling it. Anyway, so he wanders over past the crowd to where there’s one of those arc-cut flaps in the crowd-control fencing. It’s like a printed fabric with sponsor stuff on it. It has cuts in it to let the wind through. So he whips himself out and pees through the flap.”
Parker cut in again. “I knew the drill. Don’t let the crowd see your goods. Hence, sticking it through the fabric so no one could see.”
I snorted and nearly choked. Thankfully, Tiller continued the story. “What he didn’t know was that the other side of the fence was the place one of the sports channels had set up their on-air correspondent, out of the way of the crowds. The correspondent was reporting live when a shriveled-up micro peen appeared—”
“Hey! I think you mean a mighty claymore that made all who looked upon it tremble in fear.”
I howled, only this time I wasn’t alone. Mikey was giggling, Rocco was laughing, and two of the servers had stopped to listen.
“Tell them, Julian!” Parker demanded, his eyes dancing. “Tell them about the Claymore.”
Ah, shit.
“Yes,” Mikey said, lifting one eyebrow. “Please tell us exactly what you know, Jules. And how.”
Damn it. Why was Parker so determined to be reckless? Why couldn’t he at least admit the possibility that this, us, was a temporary madness we didn’t need to share with our friends? Hadn’t he realized how awkward it would make things once Erin came back around?
I kept my smile firmly in place. “Parker, there are very few limits to our friendship, but referring to your penis as the Claymore is one of them.”
