Page 32 of Fallen Hearts

“Did he talk to you yet?” Parker asked.

“Since Dad passed? Nah, though I don’t doubt he will.”

“What’ll you tell him?” he asked as our drinks came.

“The truth. That I haven’t made any permanent decisions, but for now we’ll be moving forward with some renovations. After my leave is up, it’s anyone’s guess.”

“If you do end up selling, I wonder if you can negotiate Pia to stay. She seems like a great fit so far.”

I hated to admit it, after the first impression I made, but my father had really done Heritage Hill one last favor when he hired her. She was smart, a hard worker and efficient. With damn good ideas.

“I’ve thought of that already. He’d be crazy to lose her.” There was no other way to interpret the look Parker gave me. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” he started anyway, as if I hadn’t had plenty from all three of them, even drunk-off-his-ass Cole, last night when we left O’Malley’s. “I’ve seen the way the two of you look at each other.”

“What are you getting for dinner?” I asked, changing the subject.

“‘What we’ve got here is a failure to communicate.’”

“Cool Hand Luke,” I said. Parker’s proclivity for movie quotes was a thing with him, though I only caught about 50 percent of his references.

“Yup.”

“There’s no need to communicate anything,” I insisted. “Pia and I are nothing more than employer and employee. Period. End of story.”

Parker’s smile was concerning.

“What?”

“It’s just… you should probably stop talking about her.” If possible, his smile grew. Parker looked as if he were about to burst out laughing.

“And why’s that?”

Parker cleared his throat and nodded. I turned in that direction.

Fuck. Me.

Her hair was back in a ponytail for the first time, making Pia look slightly different. An immediate vision of me grabbing ahold of that ponytail and using the leverage to kiss every bit of skin on her neck, and lower, proved Parker’s point.

“Hi, Mason.”

She stood next to me, having come from nowhere.

“Hey, Pia. You just get here?”

“No,” she said. “I’m here with a friend who noticed you come in. Hi, Parker.”

“Sup?” Parker stood. “Take my seat. I have to make a quick call.”

Before Pia could argue, Parker, like the good wingman he was, headed toward the front of the restaurant. Only problem was… I didn’t need a wingman. Pia was not a potential date.

“Mind if I do?” she asked, eyeing the empty seat.

“Not at all.”

If by “mind” she meant “are you going to find it hard to concentrate on dinner now?” the answer was yes.

“I guess you liked the place?” I asked, trying not to stare at her lips. They were glossier than usual, a perfect pale pink I’d dearly love to kiss off.

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