Cross the Line (Boston Love Story #2) (32 page)

But he’s alive.

“Boo!” I yell, running toward him like we’re in a slow motion movie reunion. I fully expect him to start running toward me too, leaping into my arms and covering my face in kisses as I hug him tightly…

Instead, he glances dismissively at me for about two seconds, then wanders over to the chubby corgi and sniffs his butt in greeting.

I can hear my friends laughing hysterically in the waiting room behind me.

I glare at them. “He loves me. He just…” I hedge. “Maybe he has amnesia.” I look at the vet tech with pleading eyes. “Dogs can have amnesia, right?”

“Uh.” She shifts from one foot to another, looking uncomfortable. “Look, I’m just the tech… But I don’t think they found any head trauma…”

I sigh.

The goons behind me laugh louder.

Taking the leash from her hand, I crouch down to Boo’s level. After a second, he turns his beady eyes toward me.

“Hey, Boo,” I whisper.

He cocks his head at the sound of my voice. A few seconds pass before he wanders closer, plants his tiny paws on my knee, and licks my downturned face.

“Aww, you do love me,” I say, stroking him gently. “But, for the record, that kiss would’ve been so much nicer if you’d done it
before
you had your face up in that corgi’s butt.”

As I lift him into my arms, he licks his tiny tongue up the length of my cheek a second time – ignoring my wishes, per usual.

Clearly, there’s been no permanent damage to his personality.

I hug him close as I walk back toward my friends, who are still cackling like hyenas. (Assholes.) Right then, in that moment, with my dog in my arms and a room full of crazy people who love me, I know that somehow everything is going to be all right.

That lonely feeling I carried around for so many years has vanished with the knowledge that I couldn’t just disappear one day, winking out of existence without causing so much as a ripple.

Because these people, in this dingy waiting room?

They’d notice.

I did it, once. Woke up five hours later

covered in glitter and full of regret.

Phoebe West, describing her one and

only experience using Pinterest.

“Thank god you’re here,” I mutter, yanking Nate inside and slamming the front door behind him.

He stands in the entryway, looking at me strangely.

“What?” I ask defensively.

“Your shirt is on backwards and you’re wearing
flats
.” His eyes narrow. “I don’t know whether to run for my life or take your temperature.”

I smack him on the arm. “You’re supposed to be here to help, not make fun of my fashion choices.”

“Give me a kiss hello and maybe I’ll help you.”

I rise up onto my toes and peck my lips against his. “There.”

Something dark flashes in his eyes and before I know it, he’s spun me around, backed me up against my front door, and is kissing me with so much heat it’s all I can do not to melt into a puddle right there on the floor of my foyer.

Holy frack.

“
That
is a kiss hello,” he rumbles against my lips.

“Hello,” I breathe, feeling dazed.

He chuckles and pulls back slightly to look at me. “Now, tell me the big emergency.”

“He won’t leave. He’s moving around all my stuff and he spilled nachos on my favorite Anthropologie blanket and he’s kidnapped my dog. They haven’t left that bedroom in days except to pee and eat.
Days
! The doctor said
take it easy
not
turn into Howard Hughes
.” My voice gets more and more frantic as the words pour out. “You have to help me.”

“What do you expect me to do?” Nate’s voice is amused.

Amused!

“Make him leave that room,” I beg. “Or at least make him shower. I think he’s starting to mold.”

“Little bird—”

“He’s your best friend,” I point out.

“Exactly. I’m his friend, not his nursemaid.”

I glare at him. “Did I mention he’s in the guest room? As in, the bedroom next to mine?”

He stares at me blankly.

“Nathaniel Xavier Knox,” I whisper intently, eyes locked on his. “If you ever want to have sex again, you have to get him out of there. We can’t do it while we’re sharing a wall with my brother.”

Comprehension flares in his eyes and before I know it, he’s moving. His long legs take the stairs two at a time. I follow, heart pounding in my chest.

“Knox!” Parker says when we open the door. He’s lying in bed, arm in a sling, eating a bag of potato chips. Boo is tucked close by his side. “What’s going on, man?”

Nate reaches into his back pocket, removes his house keys, and tosses them toward the bed. Parker catches them with his good hand.

“What are these?” he asks, staring at the keys.

“Keys to my loft,” Nate says. “You’re staying there, till you find a place.”

“Sweet, thanks man.” Parker’s eyes find mine. “You kicking me out, Phoebe?”

“No! Of course not!” I’m suddenly hit with a wave of guilt. “It’s just…”

“I’m moving in here,” Nate says. “And we need our space.”

Parker grimaces and hops out of bed. “Enough said.”

Boo looks forlorn at the sudden absence of his snuggling partner.

I try to pick my jaw up off the floor so I can effectively glare at Nate. “I’m sorry, you’re doing
what
exactly?”

“Moving in.” He says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Did you not hear me?”

“I heard you.” I stare from Nate to Parker, who’s shoving clothes into his duffle one-handed. “But… I…” I swallow. “Moving in. Here. With me.”

His eyes crinkle. “That’s what moving in means.”

“But… it’s only been, like… a week… since we started…”

Dating? Screwing? Living a life without the ever-present threat of mobsters?

“AH!” Parker yells. “Do not finish that sentence, for the love of god.”

I sigh and shoot a look in Nate’s direction. “You can’t move in with someone after five minutes of being together. That’s crazy.”

“Know what’s crazy?” he asks, stepping close. “Being in love with someone for more than half your life and
not
waking up to their face every morning.”

My mouth goes dry.

Damn, he’s good
.

“God, you’re mushy,” Parker says, staring gloatingly at Nate. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Nate cuts a look at his best friend. “Wait till it happens to you. You’ll never see it coming.”

“Oh, I’ll see her coming.” Parker’s eyebrows waggle.

I make a gagging noise.

“Relax, I’m joking.” He slings the duffle strap over his good shoulder, wincing. “I’m not the relationship type. You guys know that.”

“Uh huh,” Nate says.

“Sure you aren’t,” I murmur.

Parker rolls his eyes and heads for the doorway. We follow him down the stairs, Boo at our heels.

“I’ll miss you, Sweet P. Who am I going to call when I need snack refills?” He makes a sad face. “Your nachos are unbeatable.”

I laugh. “Nate has an oven, you know.”

“But
my
nachos won’t be the same. Yours are prepared with love.”

“Fine, fine.” I roll my eyes. “I’ll come visit.”

“Great! Bring that guacamole you made the other day. That shit is amazing.”

Nate snorts.

Parker turns to look at his best friend. “And you.” He makes a disappointed
tsk
noise. “As soon as this arm is healed, I’m delivering.”

“Figured as much,” Nate says, grinning.

“Delivering?” I ask.

“I owe him a punch in the face.” Parker smiles and ruffles my hair. “For going after my little sister.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Those are the terms we set forth at age nine, Sweet P.”

“We have to honor the code, little bird.”

Parker and Nate are both grinning as they do some kind of weird handshake back-slap thing.

Boys
.

“Take care of her,” Parker says, his expression sobering. “I mean it.”

Nate nods. “I will.”

Parker turns to me. “Love you, kid.”

I roll my eyes. “For the last time, I’m not a kid. If you’re really going to stick around, you have to accept that.”

“I told you I’m sticking around and I’m serious. For now. At least until the company is sorted out.” He looks at me, lips twisted in a grin. “Guess you’re not my baby sister anymore.”

“I’ll always be your baby sister,” I say, eyes watering. “Now go, before I start crying.”

“Don’t I get a hug goodbye?” he asks, offended.

I wrinkle my nose. “When was the last time you showered?”

He chuckles and sweeps me into a bear hug anyway. Well,
half
a bear hug. But I have a feeling he’ll be back to fighting shape in no time.

***

The house feels quiet, with Parker gone.

Nate and I are in the kitchen. He’s washing the large stack of dishes that have accumulated over the past few days of catering to Parker’s every whim; I’m sitting on the counter with my legs swinging, staring unabashedly at his butt.

What? Don’t judge me. It’s a good butt.

And it’s all mine.

“Did you mean it?” I ask suddenly, making him turn to face me.

“Mean what?”

I tilt my head. “About moving in. Did you mean, like, until Parker gets a place? Or were you talking about something a little more…” I trail off, blushing. “Never mind. It doesn’t really matter.”

He pulls his hands out of the water and crosses toward me. His fingers are soapy and wet when they slide around my neck.

“I’m moving in.” His lips brush my forehead. “I’m moving in, and I’m staying.” His mouth hits my temple, where the bruises are finally almost faded away. In another few days, they’ll be totally gone. “I want my clothes in your closet next to your unreasonably large shoe collection; my razors in your shower next to that damn body wash of yours that smells so good; my beer in your fridge next to that seltzer you’re always sucking down.” A kiss lands on the tip of my nose. “I want you. Every day. Every minute. Forever.” His lips hover over mine. “I told you before, little bird. The second I met you, I was in it for life. For years, I tried to fight it. Told myself to walk away, that you were better off without me. But the thing is, I can’t live without you. Don’t want to. Not anymore. Not ever again.”

I suck in a breath, fighting tears. “Are you going to kiss me, or are you going to talk me to death?”

He’s grinning as his lips land hard on mine.

The End

Thank you.

Two little words.

They seem painfully inadequate to describe the depth of my gratitude to my readers who, against all odds, have stuck with me on this amazing journey. I’m a little bit in love with each and every one of you, and I doubt you’ll ever know how much your support means to me.

One of my favorite quotes about writing comes from John Cheever. He said, “I can't write without a reader. It's precisely like a kiss - you can't do it alone."

And he’s right.

None of my dreams would be possible without
you
.

From the readers who reach out on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, to the amazing ladies in the “Johnson Junkies,” to the incredible bloggers and reviewers who leave feedback on
Amazon
and
Goodreads
… every single one of you have changed my life for the better.

To my parents, Dave and Christine, who’ve been my biggest cheerleaders and supporters from day one… I’ll never be able to repay you for the unconditional love you’ve provided. Thank you for encouraging me to chase my dreams.

To my big brother Zack, who’s provided plenty of sibling inspiration for my characters, thank you for being there for me even when you’re thousands of miles away.

To my friends, who don’t question it when I need to disappear into my writing cave for weeks at a time, and who welcome me back with open arms when I eventually reemerge… thank you for your unfailing support and understanding.

And, lastly, to my dog Scout. You may weigh about seventy-five more pounds than Boo, but you inspired his character all the same. Thanks for being my writing partner, snuggle buddy, and constant source of joy.