Nine

"Thanks for the upgrade, boss," I say as I slide into my seat beside Parker. In first class.

He smirks at my greeting. "Well, I couldn't let a Pierce sit amongst the peasants in good conscience."

Asshole.

Today, he is dressed in casual black jeans, and to my surprise, a white t-shirt. The material clings to his every muscle. The lighter fabric against dark ink covering his tan skin is sexy as sin.

"You, Mr. Cole, are the one I could never imagine sitting anywhere but first class," I retort as I adjust my neck pillow.

He doesn't look at me when he speaks next, and the tone of his voice tells me his words are nothing but the truth. "Not that long ago, I couldn't even afford to fly coach, much less first class."

It is a known fact that Parker is a self-made billionaire who has worked his ass off to get to the top. A college baseball legend who was hurt his senior year, losing his chance at the MLB. But the connections he made in baseball allowed him to get himself on the real estate map in New York City when he helped Eli along with other former teammates and friends of friends buy their homes. After that, his business took off, but still, you don't go from broke to real estate sales to one of the top investors in the city without hard work and dedication.

And yeah, so, I may have done my research after the first night I officially met him. He was an asshole from the start, but I was immediately and unfortunately intrigued. If I'm being honest, it started long before that night.

Busying myself with my seatbelt, I don't look at him when I respond. "Look at you now, you could have your own private jet if you wanted one."

"Spoken like a true princess," he grunts.

I roll my eyes and dig into my carry-on. Parker mimics me, also pulling out his headphones.

We settle into a comfortable silence as the plane prepares for take-off. I can't help but wonder what type of boring podcast or Audible he's probably listening to while I blast my EDM playlist I have downloaded on Spotify just for airplane mode.

But apparently, the jokes on me because my AirPods stop working mid-song. Fuuuckk. I forgot to charge them before my flight.

Parker looks over at me curiously. I wave him off and continue searching for my charger. The flight from Charlotte to JFK is only a little over an hour, so I decide to give up and try to take a nap. Until the stewardess stops by, offering a drink menu. Parker has his eyes closed so he doesn't see her. I scan the menu and know exactly what he would order without asking.

"Yes, I'll take Titos and Sprite and he'll have The Macallan 12."

She comes back a few minutes later. "Here you go," she says, sitting mine down first, which draws Parker's attention as she serves him his drink. Surprise flashes in his eyes as he removes one of his ear buds.

"What is this?" he asks, his question direct but his tone soft.

"The Macallan 12, sir. Is that okay?"

"Yes, it's perfect, thank you," Parker says, and I watch his throat swallow the first sip.

The stewardess shifts her attention back to me. "Good choice. Let me know if either of you need anything else."

"Ordering for me now, Legs." He smirks at me.

"Your drink order is no surprise to anyone who has spent more than one evening with you. Plus, I didn't want to interrupt whatever murder case file you are taking pointers from right now."

He chuckles, and fuck, if it doesn't stir a million flutters in my stomach. "Speaking of, what happened to your AirPods?"

I make a gun with my fingers and point toward my carry on under the seat in front of me. "Dead. I forgot to charge the stupid things."

"Why are they stupid? You are the one who forgot?"

"Oh, fuck off," I playfully growl, trying to stop myself from smiling.

His hand reaches out to me. "Want to listen? This one is interesting and…informative."

Unable to resist, I put his AirPod in my left ear. Of course I keep the thank you to myself. Gotta maintain my brat persona he loves so much.

He presses play, and to my utter surprise, he is certainly not listening to a podcast. I bust out laughing, causing the row beside us to nearly break their necks.

"Really?" I laugh harder, reminiscing on the twin's birthday party. This is the last thing I thought he'd be listening to. "‘Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy'?" I say as the song pours through the small earpiece.

"It's my favorite right now," he says with a teasing smile. I love this side of him.

I turn to look at him, holding his stare. This just so happens to be what was blasting through the speakers as I was riding the mechanical bull at Eli and Quinn's yesterday. The bull Eli insisted on having at his one-year-old's first birthday party. Obviously, a party favor for the adults.

"Is the image of me busting my ass when it threw me off, playing on repeat in that sick head of yours?"

"Nah, I'm recalling something much less decent than that, brat." His dark and stormy eyes penetrate me with every word. Suddenly, my mouth feels like it needs more than this drink.

His words from last night flit through my mind.

Maybe that's the problem, Ava, maybe I'm not only capable of that.

I hate letting him know the way he continuously affects me. Giving him that satisfaction feels like defeat at this point.

Gently smacking his chest, I retort with humor instead. "Perv…you were at a children's birthday party."

His eyes pin me with a suggestive stare that traces from my face to my yoga-pant-clad legs.

"You were the one riding the bull in those little jean shorts, showing off those legs. I was jealous of a piece of fucking machinery."

"Aw, poor bossman," I say, keeping it light as my heart is thuds harder at his confession. This is exactly why I fell asleep to thoughts of him instead of overanalyzing the text I accidentally received from Logan. While annoying, that text was likely an easy out for me in the end.

The tune winds down, and Parker passes me his phone. "What's your favorite song right now?"

That's easy. I'm doing a routine to this one so it's always on repeat. Within seconds, Selena and Rema bleed through the speakers, the beat making me want to move my hips in the seat.

"I knew you'd pick this." His knowing tone has me trying to remember if I have ever had it on blast in the office. "How?"

"Just a good guess," Parker says, not meeting my eyes.

I narrow my stare, but let it go as the words to "Calm Down" play. I can visualize my routine from start to finish. It's one of my favorites because it is a mixture of hip hop and pole.

A question pops into my head. Part of me worries that it"s a sore subject, but I still decide to ask it.

"What was your favorite walk-out song in college?"

For a split second, he stares at me, and I worry I really did take it too far until a rare smile brightens his face. It almost stops my heart right then and there.

"My favorite was probably the ‘Wipe Me Down' remix. How can that not hype you up?"

I smile back as he plays it, and I follow along, pretending to "wipe myself down," the song taking me back to high school dance party days.

To my shock, he pretends to wipe off his black leather Christian Louboutin low-tops. Who the fuck is this man? I wish I had really known him when he was younger and more carefree.

"I figured it was ‘Gasolina'?"

His eyebrows furrow again, gaze searching mine.

"How did you know that was even an option?"

I laugh. "I came to a game my sophomore year with the girls. You would have been a junior."

"Really?" he asks, still astonished.

"I remember you walked out to Daddy Yankee and then jacked one over the fence. I think I immediately had a little crush," I admit, but seriously, he was hot as hell back then too.

"Why didn't I meet you? I remember meeting Sloan and Quinn on multiple occasions."

"Maybe you met me too," I tease, wanting to make him question it, but his response twists up my insides.

"No, I would never forget you. I still remember what you had on the first night I met you at Kings Hideaway."

I bite my lip and ask my next question so I can analyze it for days to come. "What was I wearing?"

"A hot pink blazer with matching heels and skintight black pants. Your hair was down and curled. And you had in these tiny gold hoops and a small flower stud in your second piercing. And I knew right then and there you were going to be a pain in my ass."

Wow. I retrace every word until he speaks again. "I can't believe you were at my game." Parker chuckles, and as the song ends, he passes the phone back to me.

"Okay, let's switch it up. Now a song that always makes you feel a little melancholy or sad. As long as you aren't going to start crying on me."

I wrack my brain and one I randomly heard again recently comes to mind.

"‘100 years' by Five for Fighting. You ever listened to it?" I ask and select it on his screen.

He nods. "Yeah, I actually remember the first time I heard it as an adult and really understood the meaning."

"The older I get, the more I understand how that one hundred years can fly by."

Parker glances out the window. "Some people would be thankful for half of that."

The pain in his voice hurts my soul. He's thinking of his parents, I'm sure.

We sit there listening, and I don't ask for his sad song because I worry that would be too much for him right now. He scrolls through one of his playlist, and when the song he selects starts playing, I know just by the melody that he's gifting me with something painful to him.

I dabble in country here and there, and this song has been on the top charts for a while now, so I immediately recognize it. "I Remember Everything" by Zach Bryan and Kasey Musgraves.

Looking over at Parker and seeing his eyes closed but his face so full of anguish, brings tears to my eyes. I reach my hand over and rub my thumb along his. I expect him to push me away, but instead, he intertwines our fingers. We remain quiet during the whole song, and when it ends, he peers up at me, emotion flaring in both our gazes.

"Parker," I whisper. "Who does that song make you think of?"

"My parents, they met in 1988," he whispers back. Taking a sip of his drink, he speaks again. "My mom was a rich girl from the city and my dad was an aspiring musician who took a bus ride there on his last dollar. The song isn't necessarily their story, but the emotion in it, and some of the parts that resemble them, always overwhelm me with thoughts of the past." He pauses again, but I stay silent, my chest thundering with the fact he is trusting me.

"He also had a bottle of cheap whiskey in his hand every day after my mother died of ovarian cancer until he drank himself to death."

Rotgut Whiskey.

Tipping his drink in my direction, "That's why I only drink the high dollar stuff, plus I know how to control myself."

I turn my head slightly to the side, twisting my lips, trying to control my agonizing emotions. It"s not about me, and I know Parker doesn't want my pity. But what do I say to that? No one should have to go through that. I know Quinn mentioned this, but I guess hearing it from him and how it went down makes it a million times worse. No wonder he is so closed off; I would be too.

Parker tugs on my shoulder. "Hey, now that you've got me baring my soul thirty thousand feet in the air, can you pick a happy song, please?"

I attempt to smile through the tears I'm trying desperately to hold in. This time, when he passes me his phone, I think of my aunt. She played me this song as a pick-me-up after one of the many nights my parents treated me like crap. And then I turned it into my first solo dance routine.

Missy Elliot"s raspy voice blasts through the speakers as I wipe the loan tear that escaped from the corner of my eye.

Another chuckle passes through Parker's lips. Thank God. My broken heart needed to hear that.

"This takes me back to some sweaty college dance floor, lots of grinding and girls thinking they could rap like Missy." Parker smiles lightly.

"I was totally one of those girls."

"No doubt in my mind. And I've seen you dance, so I know every dude in there was trying to get a minute of your time."

I giggle at his compliment. "Luckily, if I wasn't in the mood, I had two guard dogs on standby. Quinn was my girlfriend multiple times, and Sloan would just give them a speech about respect."

"I can see that. I'm not sure which of them is scarier."

The girls would appreciate that.

"Now what makes The Parker Cole happy? I promise not to tell your secrets at work."

Humming, he smiles to himself as he thinks. "Top secret… but ‘Pocket Full of Sunshine' is my go-to when I'm by myself."

I stare at him for a second before I bust out laughing again, pissing everyone in first class off. "Oh my gosh, that's the best thing I've heard all year. Are you serious? I can picture it now."

He laughs with me before confessing, "Fuck no, Av. That's actually my in-the-shower song."

I've never seen him like this, and all these different sides of Parker are just making it harder not to like him. He's showing me what's behind that asshole exterior, and I'm greedy for more.

"You want the truth?" he asks, pinching my arm.

I nod eagerly, and he scrolls through some pictures on his phone before he pulls up his Spotify yearly report from last year.

"Unforgettable" was his number one played song. I swallow thickly at the realization of what he's showing me.

That's the song I was dancing to that night at Masqued when he watched me from across the room. The desire in his eyes had me wanting him more than I had ever wanted anything else. I didn't care who he was or how much of an asshole he had been to me…I wanted him. Plain and simple.

Too bad it"s not so plain and simple now.

"What made you accept my invite that night?" I ask the question I've been wondering for quite some time. What made him change his mind? I was fully prepared for him not to show considering how easily he dismissed me the first time we met, but I was too turned on by him watching me all night not to try.

Parker finishes off the liquor in his glass. "The same reason you did."

Undeniable, indescribable chemistry.

When we land at JFK,of course Parker insists on having his driver drop me off. I don't even fight him at the demand. He is still a bossy asshole, but after that plane ride, he suddenly feels more friend than foe.

Once we are settled into the blacked-out SUV, I turn off my airplane mode, wanting to check in on Quinn.

"Checking to see if Logan is begging for forgiveness?" Parker asks, hard-set jaw back in place.

There he is.

"For your information, I asked him to please stop calling me and to meet me for lunch on Monday to save our working relationship."

My phone vibrates over and over in my hand, and concern takes over my senses as I block out whatever smart comment Parker retorts with.

To my surprise, it's not Sloan or Quinn's names filling up my screen, but my neighbor Ben and my grandmother. Oh shit, is Binx okay?

I immediately listen to the voicemail Ben left me an hour ago.

"Ava, uh, hi sorry. Uh—Yeah, I have some bad news… I'm so sorry, if I hadn't of stayed out all night, maybe it wouldn't have been so bad…. They are saying a pipe busted, and not only did it flood my place, but yours too. It's uh—it"s pretty bad. I'm so sorry, beautiful. Binx is okay. He is on the top of his cat house and wouldn't come out for me. I think you are coming back today, but if not, I'll try again. Just didn't want to traumatize him more. I did put his food and water bowl up top."

"Oh my… Fuck," I say on a breath, my mind racing with how bad this actually is.

As the homeowner, I am sure they called my grandparents, so I return her call immediately.

"What's going on, Av?" Parker asks.

"My apartment flooded," I rush out as my grandmother answers the phone.

"Hi, dear, did you talk to Ben?" my grandma asks, steady reassurance in her voice as she continues without letting me answer. "Don't stress. Grandpa and I will make sure this is fixed properly and safely." I don't even have the fight in me to refuse their help.

"He left me a message, but I called you back first. Is it truly that bad?"

"Honey, it sounds like there is two to three feet of standing water, and your grandfather said mold will start forming quickly with that much water."

Poor Binx. My stomach plummets with the need to get to him.

"But don't stress. I know you hate the thought of being near your parents, but you can stay at our condo until we can get this sorted out." The thought of staying anywhere in the Upper East Side makes me cringe, much less in the same exact high rise as my parents. After I graduated college, it took a lot of convincing to get me to live in the apartment my grandparents bought for my aunt many years ago, before she moved to Paris. When they finally settled on allowing Quinn and I to pay part of the homeowner fees, I agreed. The other perk was that it was far away from the Upper East Side. I love my grandparents, but not even they could convince me to live there again.

"Grandma, I don't think that will be necessary. I can at least stay at Sloan and Wes's tonight. I'll call once I see how everything looks in person."

"Okay, if you insist, and Grandpa has already put a call out to someone who can come first thing in the morning to assess the damages before insurance sends someone out."

"Thank you both. I love you and I'll call soon," I say, trying to sound less stressed than I am.

"So, what the hell is going on?" Parker asks, seriousness and concern coating his words.

I fill him in on what I know as we make our way toward my flooded apartment.

"So, if your grandmother offered you their other place to stay, why did I hear you tell her you are going to stay at Sloan and Wes's tonight?" he asks.

"Because I refuse to stay anywhere near my parents," I say bluntly, and I see his mind working as I continue. "Plus, I didn't want to worry her more, but I'm hoping Ben is just being dramatic and I can stay at my place tonight." I'm trying to put positive thoughts out there. Whether it"s a reach or not, who knows.

"That sounds like the worst idea… They said there is standing water, Ava." He practically growls that last part.

The car approaches my building, and I wave my hand. "Welp, I guess we are about to find out."

"Ava, fuck no… This is unsafe."

Parker's voice booms through my apartment as I look around in shock. The amount of my things that appear ruined is hard to wrap my head around.

"This is definitely worse than I was picturing."

I advance farther into the space, only truly caring about one thing.

"Binxy Boy… it's okay. Mama is here," I coo, knowing he is likely petrified from the tsunami that hit my apartment.

"Ahh fuck, I forgot about the cat. Is the thing okay?" Parker comes up behind me.

Binx pokes his head out of the cathouse, which is thankfully outside of the area that got the brunt of the leak. But I can tell by his matted hair, he was most likely curled up on my bed when it all started. My poor boy probably had no idea what was happening.

I pick him up, and he purrs into me. I can almost feel the relief in his little feline body as he melts into my embrace. "It's okay, buddy. I'm so sorry," I whisper and continue to walk around on what feels like a pool deck. Peering into my room, it is obvious this side of the house got the majority of the damage. I see the standing water throughout my bedroom and closet.

Of course, Quinn's side was only touched by a bit of overflow water on the floor. With her half being empty right now, that would have made things so much easier if it had of happened on that side of the apartment.

"Looks like I need a thrift store and a cat-friendly hotel pronto."

Parker takes hold of my shoulders, his tone oddly soothing and one I've never heard from him before as he eyes Binx with caution.

"Your luggage is still in the SUV outside. I'm sure you have some things in there that can get you through the night. Why don't you just come home with me, and then figure it out tomorrow?"

I'm already shaking my head, but he cuts off my reply.

"And before you say no just to spite me…you know it's the simplest way to handle this tonight. I have extra rooms, so you'll have plenty of privacy," Parker says, and he's wrong because I have no willpower to spite him in this moment.

"What about Binx?" I shrug him toward Parker to grab his attention back from darting around the sodden apartment.

His gaze finds Binx again. He tries to stop it, but his nose scrunches up like his next words pain him. "The damn cat can come too."

I relent with a nod and offer him a soft smile, but the way my heart hammers from his protectiveness is a tell-tale sign that this is probably a bad idea.