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Noah gave Parker and his wheelchair a long, slow once-over. “She told me you were a cripple.”
Terry produced a baseball bat from beneath the bar. One of the regulars reached for the sheathed knife attached to his belt. Others merely glowered.
“She told me you were a prick,” Parker returned, keeping his smile in place. “But then I already knew that.”
Noah laughed. “Right back to our usual banter, aren’t we? I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it.”
“Funny. I haven’t missed it at all. Want a beer?”
Noah glanced at Terry. “I think I’ll pass.”
Parker motioned with his head for Noah to follow him outside. “I’ll settle up with you later, Terry.”
“No problem.”
Every eye in the bar was on them as they left through the screen door and went out into the sweltering heat.
“You’ve got nerve, Noah. I’ll give you that.”
Noah scoffed. “Coming to see you?”
“No. Going into Terry’s bar wearing those loafers.” He looked down at Noah’s Gucci shoes with the gold trademark on the vamp. “Very fancy.”
Noah ignored the dig and slipped off his jacket. “Lovely climate,” he said sarcastically.
“Sorta reminiscent of Key West.”
Noah never faltered, but he didn’t take the bait, either. Parker led him to the Gator. “Climb in.”
“How quaint.” He settled into the bright yellow seat. “You don’t see many of these on Park Avenue.”
Using his arms, Parker raised himself into the driver’s seat, then reached down for his wheelchair, folded it, and placed it in the trailer. As he clicked on the ignition, he said, “Noah, you’ve grown into a regular Yankee snob.”
“You’ve just grown old.”
“Pain and suffering will do that to you.”
For the next five minutes, they rode in silence. Noah showed a marked lack of interest in the island. He kept his eyes on the narrow road ahead, never once commenting on the scenery or even looking at it. Parker, on the other hand, returned the waves of people they happened to pass along the way.
After one lady called out a greeting from her front porch, Noah turned to him. “What are you, the local celebrity?”
“Only cripple on the island.”
“I see.”
“And the only professional writer they know.”
“You haven’t sold this book of yours yet.”
“No, but the Mackensie Roone books sell like rubbers in a whorehouse.”
Finally. He’d finally gotten an honest reaction out of Noah. He laughed at his stunned expression. “You didn’t know? Well… surprise!”
With an aplomb that Parker remembered, Noah recovered quickly. “So that’s how you afford the lovely home and loyal valet that my wife mentioned.”
Parker was quick to catch Noah’s possessive reference to Maris, but he didn’t address it. “I’m trying to make the house a home. It still needs a lot of work. And my loyal valet up and quit on me this week.”
“How come?”
