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Aven was on the other end of the couch, turned toward him, her feet resting on the middle cushion, purple polish covering her toenails. Her arms hugged her legs, a huge smile lighting up her face.
“Quin, my man,” Fenway greeted, seeming to see me first. “Where have you been? Sending Gunner to make sure I’m not seducing the beautiful Aven here? So not like you.”
Aven’s smile slowly fled, leaving just a turning up of her lips at one side. “Fenway was just doing an impersonation of the elusive Babysitter.”
Also known as Ranger.
Fenway had needed The Babysitter a few times over the years, a distinction that not a single other client had to their name.
“What’d he say he sounded like?”
“Surly. Growly. Like Gunner, only more angry.”
“Not inaccurate,” I allowed, smiling a little because her eyes were still dancing, and not wanting to be a complete killjoy. “How are you feeling?” I asked, moving closer until I could move her coffee out of the way, and sit down on the coffee table, reaching out for her chin, turning her head to check out the cuts, looking for any sign of infection.
“Not bad, considering. Drinking was fun before I iced my lip.”
“Swollen twice its normal size,” Fenway agreed. “She took a sip of water, and it just came streaming back out again.”
“Gee, thanks!” Aven scoffed, pulling a throw pillow from behind her back, and tossing it at him. “Because I wanted everyone to know about that.”
I was everyone.
Fenway was the insider.
I was fucking jealous of Fenway Arlington.
Would wonders never cease?
“Want to get out of here for a bit so we can talk?” I asked. “I have some information to fill you in on. And we should probably stop in at your work. Figure you called out, but we need to make sure they let you slide for a week or so.”
Everything about her went tense, formal.
It was a sad thing to see.
“Yeah, sure. Just let me find those shoes Jules dropped off for me,” she said, jumping up, heading down the hall, leaving Fenway and me alone.
“She’s okay,” he said, drawing my attention.
“What?” I asked, brows drawn together, not used to seeing such a serious look on the man’s face.
“She’s been through the wringer. Don’t know the specifics, but I see her face. And she jumps like a cat at any strange sound. But she’s in good spirits. You seem worried about her.”
“I worry about all my clients. Even the pain in the ass ones like you,” I added, attempting to distract him.
“Yeah, I totally look at my clients like you look at her,” he agreed, nodding, smile knowing as Aven came back out of the room, hair brushed more to one side, allowing some of it to fan out over the cut on her temple. She was insecure about being seen by her coworkers. It was asinine seeing as what happened wasn’t her fault, but she was trying to mask some of it.
“All set,” she declared, forcing a smile, reaching for a heavy knit gray sweater on the back the couch, shrugging it on.
“Take pictures of the outside for me,” Fenway demanded. “It seems like I won’t be seeing it for a good, long while.”
“Well, that will teach you for stealing, and being an adulterer.”
“Hey,” Fenway called as we moved across the room, “I wasn’t the one who was married.”
“Right, because that excuses it,” Aven shot back as the door closed, locking automatically. “He’s a character,” she told me as we went down the stairs. “I get why he gets into women trouble. He’s so convincing. You’d swear he means what he says.”
“In all fairness,” I said as I led her through the reception area, putting my hand at her lower back to lead her toward the front doors, wanting to get out of the office, “I think he actually does mean it when he says it. He just has the attention span of a magpie, always moving on to the next newer, shinier object.”
“I guess that makes sense,” she agreed as I opened my car door, ushering her inside. “Where are we going?” she asked a moment later as I pulled out of town.
“Drive-thru coffee. She’s Bean Around is great, but not when you don’t want to get out of the car.”
“You have your serious voice on.”
I glanced over, lips twitching. “I always have my serious voice on.”
“Well, sort of. But now you have on your ‘I have some business stuff to tell you’ voice on.”
“There’s a distinct voice for that, huh?”
“Mmhm,” she insisted, half-turning in her seat as I pulled up to the drive-thru, calling out the order, then pulling up to pay. “So,” she pressed when her coffee was in her hands, and I pulled to the back of the lot to park. “What’s going on?”
“Gunner found his house,” I told her, not one for easing anyone into things. “Smith and I went over. Babe, he’s been watching you since you moved to Navesink Bank. Lived in your first apartment building. Had pictures of you moving in the first day.”
