Page 138 of Flint’s Strike

Grace picks her way carefully around the chairs, Belle glued to her side. “Hi, Eliot. It’s nice to see you…again.”

Before I can figure out what to say—or how to say it—the door opens and laughter spills onto the deck. An older guy, wearing a look that says he’s seen some shit, holds the door for a petite brunette and a young woman who can only be their daughter.

Nate brings up the rear, a six-pack of Shiner in each hand. “Don’t worry, AJ. I finally found the beer in the third place I looked.”

“It wasn’t in the garage fridge?” AJ asks.

Nate sets the yellow cardboard carriers on the long table. “Both the house fridge and the garage fridge were full of actual food. These were in a cooler.”

Grace’s cheeks flush bright red. “I moved them this morning. You made too…too m-much…” A tiny, frustrated sound dies in her throat. After a moment, she makes a fist with one hand, taps it twice with two fingers of the other hand, then mimics tossing something into the air with both hands one at a time.

Parker leans close and whispers, “Potato salad.”

“Eliot?” The older man holds out his hand. “Connor Davis. This is my fiancée, Isabel. And the pint-size container of sass with her arms around Belle is Veronica.”

His grip is hard enough, I have to stifle my wince. Isabel hugs Parker, then moves to me, arms open.

I got no idea what the rules are here. But I step forward, pat her awkwardly between the shoulder blades, and hope no one notices how uncomfortable I am.

“Nice to meet the man we’ve heard almost nothing about.”

I arch a brow at Parker. She shrugs. “We have been a mite busy.”

“Eliot? Want a beer?” Connor holds one out to me, but he makes it damn clear he ain’t coming any closer to hand it over.

Well, shit.

I squeeze Parker’s hand, and give Veronica and Belle a wide berth to walk right up to Connor. The man cracks both beers, hands me one, and taps the neck of my bottle with his.

“Parker’s family, Eliot. The shit we’ve been through… If you haven’t heard it all, you will. Eventually.” He holds my gaze. “You hurt her, you answer to all of us. Got it?”

The cold sip of beer doesn’t do more than whet my whistle and give me a moment to choose my next words very carefully. “She’s important to me, Connor. More important than I realized until today. Ain’t no way I’m gonna hurt her.”

“Grace? Where should I put the seven-layer dip?” Emmylou Marsh sashays through the door, carrying a bowl covered with aluminum foil.

“Middle of the table.” Grace points, but before Emmylou can set the appetizer down, a man who’s the spitting image of AJ—if AJ had a full beard—steps out onto the deck.

His dark brows furrow. “So. You’re Flint.”

I offer him my hand. “Eliot.”

“Jasper. That’s Emi.” His footsteps are a little uneven, and I recognize the gait. Bad leg. Knee. Maybe hip too.

“Shiner?” I ask. Connor’s returned to Isabel’s side, leaving me standing alone with the beer.

“Sure.” Jasper takes the bottle I hand him, studying me.

We stand there in silence until Emi joins us, grabs her own bottle, and twists off the top. “Eliot, I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet last week. I don’t hide my friendship with Parker, but I do try not to flaunt it while I’m workin’.”

“Understandable.”

I scan the suddenly full deck. It’s a lot louder now, Belle barking at a family of ducks, AJ and Connor laughing near the smoker with Nate “supervising,” Grace and Isabel sitting with glasses of wine, heads bent toward one another, while Parker talks to Veronica. She meets my gaze over the top of the young woman’s head, and there’s something in her eyes I can’t read. Her shoulders are hiked up a little higher than usual, and the smile she gives Veronica is tight and a little forced.

“Excuse me for a minute,” I say, then head for Parker.

Belle bounds up onto the deck, and Veronica drops to her knees and hugs the dog with a little squeal. “How’s the bestest girl ever? Want to get your tennis ball? Come on. Let’s see if we can find it.” The two head toward the lake, leaving me and Parker alone.

The laughter and conversations quiet a single notch. Parker turns to me, wraps her arms around my waist, and rests her cheek against my chest. “You okay?” I ask, my lips close to her ear.