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Could I do it? It would certainly make a plausible cover story. And since the world didn’t know what L.T. Shipman looked like, the folks of Lovewell would be none the wiser.
I was contemplating how to make this work when Liv held up a tiny yellow bikini.
“What are you doing? I don’t need that.”
“Of course you do!” She shook it in front of her. “What if there’s a hot tub scenario?”
“This is not a smutty book! This is my job. And my life.”
Pointedly ignoring me, she folded it and put it in the suitcase. “What about lingerie?” She held up a delicate pink lace demi bra. “This is way too gorgeous to waste. Wear this shit.”
“That is not a backwoods PI work bra.”
She fished the matching panties out of my underwear drawer—apparently, we needed to work on boundaries—and folded them gently. “You are not just a PI. You are a sexy goddess, hell-bent on bringing bad guys to justice. A sweet bra is part of the package. If you feel good, you’ll do an even better job. And who knows? Maybe you’ll spot a lumberjack hottie or two up there.”
“I’m already spoken for, remember? I have a fake boyfriend.”
“Even better.” She grinned wickedly. “You can torture him with your hotness.”
“You are impossible.”
“You love me. Also, you hate leaving the city. So how did he finally convince you to take the case? I was sure you’d say no.”
I looked at my oldest friend and sighed. “Honestly? By being vulnerable.”
Her eyes widened, and I rushed to explain. “He’s this slick, cocky dude. Finance guy who refers to his conquests by their body parts when saving their numbers in his phone. But he’s clearly carrying around a lot of loss and trauma.”
Liv shook her head so vigorously she’d no doubt give herself a headache.
“He laid it out. How much he and his family needed my help. It was honest and earnest, and I really want to help them.”
She threw her hands up. “No! Flag on the play. Red fucking flag, Parker.”
“It’s not like that,” I said, wishing I had kept my mouth shut.
“I am invoking my best friend privileges right now. You love to fix broken guys. It’s basically a hobby. You minored in it in college.”
“Not anymore. I’m done with that. Never again. Especially after Bryce.”
She groaned. “He was the fucking worst. Thought that shiny FBI badge could make up for his tiny dick and terrible personality.”
I smiled. Liv never held back. Bryce, the selfish prick, had been my last serious relationship. We’d ended things more than a year ago, and I was not even remotely interested in getting involved with anyone anytime soon. Aside from my brief fling with Tex, I had been resolutely single and avoiding men. “I have zero interest in him. This is a job. A difficult job that’s gonna push me and make me work my ass off.”
It would be difficult. And probably emotionally draining. But ultimately, a family would get answers. And hopefully justice. Providing that kind of peace was why I did this. It was my purpose.
Liv scooped up an armful of lacy bras, panties, and nighties from the top dresser drawer. “I want the record to show that I logged my objection. But if you’re going to shack up with an emotionally unavailable lumbersuit hottie with a damaged soul, then you need to packallthe lingerie.”
Chapter6
Pascal
Icanted forward, resting my forearms on the metal worktable and waiting patiently for my sister to acknowledge me. Next to me, Adele was flat on her back on a creeper, yelling at an engine.
When she emerged, I pushed the coffee cup toward her, which she took and sipped.
“Thank you,” she grunted, bringing it to her lips again. “I’ve been here since five trying to get this motherfucker to run again.”
She kicked the metal piece at the bottom—I had no idea what any of this shit was called—and swore under her breath.
