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“Burger is on the grill. I’m tempted to call you a name that starts with a B and ends with an ‘itch,’ but Mia’s here, and I’m not ready for her to know that about you yet.” With a palm to the forehead, Tim shoves Fletch back, and smirks when the cop stumbles and his little girl is far less concerned with the outcome than she was about my injuries. “Five minutes, and the rest of you will have food.”
Certain that none of my companions would have me wait until they’re served, I shove my burger-half between my lips and groan at the delicious taste of charred meat and fresh salad on my tongue, the sustenance already improving my energy levels.
“How are things going with you and Jada?”
I peek left, to Aubree with her innocent question, then I peer right, to Fletch for his answer.
Aubree’s not a cold person. Not cruel. But she’s curious.
As are the rest of us.
“Heard from her?” she asks.
“Sporadically.” Fletcher intentionally chooses a big word and taps the end of Mia’s nose when she watches him. “She’s around. Just a little busy right now, huh, Moo?”
“Mommy came by the apartment yesterday,” Mia announces. “She bringed me a dress.”
“Aw, that’s nice.” Aubree rests on her elbows and leans forward so she can see past me and Archer. “Is the dress beautiful?”
“It’ssobeautiful! So, so pretty. But it doesn’t fit right now.”
“Oh, well, that’s a common mistake,” Aubs soothes. “It’s the thought that counts. And besides, it’ll fit soon, right?”
“It’s too small,” Fletch mumbles, running a hand beneath his nose like that’ll somehow disguise his words. “Two sizes too small.”
“Bummer.” I take a large bite of my burger and simultaneously relax: because of Archer’s fingers rhythmically stroking my thigh, and the food hitting my belly.
I thought I was exhausted and injured. Turns out, I was just starving.
“Maybe we can help you return it,” I speak around my food. “Switch it out for the right size.”
“Let’s just drop it.” Fletch looks up and meets Tim’s eyes. “Food ready?”
“Yeah.” He continues to watch our group for a moment, his brows pinched tight in thought. But when Fletch offers nothing more, and the bar continues to grow louder, busier, Tim turns on his heels and heads back into the kitchen to retrieve everyone else’s dinner.
“Why would she buy a dress two sizes too small?” Fifi crosses her legs, her pencil skirt hugging her thighs, and Fletcher’s eyes instantly dropping to the movement. Like a hound out to scent, he can’t help himself. “It’s not like you’re shrinking, huh, Moo? Mommy must’ve had a bit of a silly moment.”
Unconcerned, Mia only bites her corndog and shrugs. “Dunno. She sometimes does that.”
“Sporadic?” I repeat Fletch’s word and chew on my thoughts… and my dinner. “Relapse, or healthy?”
“Seems to be clean.”
He nods his thanks when Tim swings out of the kitchen and drops a plate in front of him, and a second in front of Fifi. He juggles two more, plopping one down beside mine for Archer, then the last plate for Aubree. Turning away, he strides to the other end of the bar and gets to work helping Daisy—aptly named, and veryDuke-ish in looks—serve customers.
“She’s unreliable,” he continues, picking up his burger and eating while he stands. “More interested in talking about old times than she is about reconnecting with a certain adolescent.” He flashes a playful grin for Mia, who remains completely oblivious to his words. “Though the outfit purchase gives me hope she’s searching for that common ground.”
“Buying clothes that are too small is something my mother did for me.” Unimpressed, Fifi picks up a fry and bites off the tip. “But it had nothing to do with kindness or common ground, and everything to do with my body composition and how to appear…perfect.”
That word, from her mouth, makes me sit taller and scowl. I’ve described Seraphina as perfect a million times since knowing her. But when she says it, it almost sounds painful.
“We’re gonna head back to the apartment after dinner,” Arch declares, his mouth half-full, before anyone else can comment on the topic at hand. “Mayet needs her meds and a rest. And I want a minute to clear my head.”
“I’d like a husband who doesn’t announce my business all over town.” I twist in his lap and meet his eyes. “Discretion is appreciated, Detective.”
“And discretion is what you get, anywhere else, with anyone else. But everyonehereknows you’re hemophilic and need your meds tonight, and everyone in this room sees your sling. So suck it up, Doctor. And eat your food so we can leave.” Peering to Fletch, he switches his frown for a grin. “I’ll call Felix tonight and make sure we’re not spinning in circles. But I’m telling you now, this isn’t Malone.”
ARCHER
