Page 20 of Evading the Enforcer

“Sounds good,” Carl says.

“In the meantime, think about who you know that might have ties to a professional athlete. Maybe some of your relativesyou’ll be seeing for Christmas will have connections you know nothing about,” Barry says.

“Good point,” I say. “Now, get off here and go enjoy your time off. Merry Christmas, everyone.”

A chorus of “Merry Christmas” is shouted out right before I log out of the video call. Closing my laptop, I sit against the cushion and place my slippered feet on the coffee table. My gaze moves around my porch, taking in everything that makes this my favorite place to be. It was the selling feature of this house for me. If the temperature is above fifty degrees, most likely, I’ll be sitting out here. This is where I do my best thinking.

“Hello.”

I turn my head, finding a beautiful young woman standing on the edge of Calista’s—I mean Niall’s—yard.

Is this his girlfriend?

“Hi,” I say, smiling politely.

“Do you mind if I come over?” she asks with a hopeful expression.

I wave her on. “Not at all.” Watching as she walks across my front lawn and climbs the steps to the porch, I’d swear her legs are as long as I am tall. Bright blue eyes framed with thick lashes widen when she notices the Bigfoot rug covering a large portion of the wooden floor. I watch the path her gaze travels, taking in the Bigfoot candleholders, the Bigfoot pillows spread about on each piece of wicker furniture, and lastly, she focuses on my chest.

“Nice sweatshirt.” She giggles and points toward my chest, where it says in bold pink lettersBigfoot is real, and he tried to eat my ass.

“Thanks. It’s a favorite of mine.”

“I’m Maeve.”

“Hi, Maeve, I’m Lucy. Are you visiting Niall for the holidays?”

She nods, brushing a long lock of her golden-blond hair from an unblemished cheek. “Yes, I am.”

Why am I not surprised he’s got some young chick visiting?

“Have a seat.” I gesture toward the couch where I’m sitting.

“Thank you.” She rubs her hands on her jean-covered knees and lowers to the floral cushion.

“So, how long have the two of you been together?” I ask, keeping my tone free of the disgust I’m feeling.

“Twenty-four years,” Maeve says, snickering.

Wait a second.She can’t be much older than that herself.

Is this one of those situations where a marriage gets arranged between families at birth?

Does that even happen outside of books and movies?

I push my glasses up to the top of my head. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“He’s my older brother, so we’ve been together my whole life.”

“Oh, well, that makes sense. Now that you’ve told me, I see the resemblance.”

She nods. “My brothers and I all have blue eyes like our dad.”

“How many brothers do you have?”

“Two. Niall is the oldest, and Rogan is the youngest of us. He’s in college.”

“What about you? Are you in college?”

---