I shot him a sidelong glance. "Glad you think so," I replied. "I know you had your doubts."
An annoyed grimace pulled at his face as he shook his head. "Would you stop it? You have to admit this is a complicated case."
I waved him off. I didn't want any of Doctor Acevedo's logic tonight. Especially not when his scenario was an even more complex case. At least I lived in the same state, country, and continent as Stella. It'd taken him the better part of two years to claim the same.
"Where is your brother-in-law this evening?" I asked, referring to Alex's fiancé Riley. He and Nick's wife Erin were siblings. They came from a big family that threw fabulous parties. Any time the Walshes invited me, I went.
"Riley had a work issue," Nick replied. "Something flooded and something else shorted out and that's the extent of my intel on the matter. I'm told he'll be here eventually and I wouldn't put it past him to show up soaking wet. Or naked save for the drop cloth he found in his trunk and fashioned into a toga."
"Looking forward to that," I replied.
From across the room, I watched Stella peek at her phone and frown. She typed out a quick message before returning to her conversation with Stremmel and O'Rourke but I knew she was distracted. A minute later, another message came through. Then the screen lit with an incoming call. She rejected the call, shot a quick eyeroll at the device, and stepped away from the group.
Holding up her phone as she headed toward me, she said, "I have to take this." She glanced toward the sliding glass doors that led to the deck. And the rain beating against them. "Is there a laundry room or somewhere quiet I can duck into without bothering anyone?"
"Head upstairs," Nick offered, pointing in that direction. "There are several empty rooms available."
"He actually means empty," I added. "He's got a bedroom and his wife has an office, and aside from that, there's no furniture to be found."
Nick jerked a shoulder up as he glared at me. "So fuckin' what, Hartshorn? Since when are you the interior design police?"
"I'm not," I replied. "But you've lived in this house almost a year. Isn't there a point at which you decide to do something with your empty spaces?"
"No," Nick answered. "No, there's not but you can be sure I'll be coming to your house one of these days and making comments about your shit."
Stella folded her lips together as a laugh shook through her. "Upstairs it is," she said. "I'll only need a few minutes."
"Take your time," I called.
As if Stella's urgent call could set off a chain reaction of urgent issues, Nick and I reached for our phones. Alex joined us, asking, "What's going on? Why do we look worried?"
"No reason," I said. "Just checking on things."
The three of us scrolled through our messages in silence and then returned the devices to our pockets.
Nick said, "I like her. She's what you need."
"And what is that?" I asked, taking a sip of my beer.
He followed suit, bobbing his head as he drank and considered my question. Finally, he said, "Warm."
"As in alive and breathing?" I sputtered. "Or—"
"As in"—he circled his arms in front of him, miming some form of embrace or wheat harvest, I wasn't sure—"warm. You know, pleasant. Generous. Outgoing. Kind. Capable. Good head on her shoulders." He made another grain-gathering motion. "Warm."
"You need a better vocabulary," I said, mostly to myself.
"You do," Alex agreed.
"You need to lock that lady down," he replied.
"You say that," I started, "but you don't seem to realize it's unusual to marry women the same day you meet them. You're also missing the fact many women aren't willing to go along with that kind of crazy."
"Truth," Alex said.
He barked out a laugh. "Some women invent that crazy all on their own. Now, those are the ones you need to lock down. Hold on tight and never let go because they're the best of them."
"My god," she muttered.
