7. Maggie

Maggie

I dry my hands on my pants and walk around the counter. When I see who has walked in, I let out a small gasp. "Shark bait," I say under my breath. There's a famous video of him after a shark attack that I've seen. The man is the most famous surfer in the world, and not just from his viral video. He's won countless tournaments in recent years, all while his wife waits on the beach. Their infatuation with each other is well known, even for a non-surfer like me.

Grayson scoffs. "Lord, not you too."

"What?"

"You're drooling over Tommy." I nearly check my chin for dribble as I shake my head. But Grayson grabs my hand and starts pulling me forward.

"Gray, no. I'm fine, really." My face has never been redder. Never mind the fact that Grayson is touching me. Really touching me. This isn't a handshake or a hug because my great uncle died. This is honest to god, his hand in my hand, touching. It makes my thighs ache. When we were in the kitchen, I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted much, much more than kissing. I wanted Grayson in compromising positions that should probably be studied—if properly executed—for contortionist exhibitions.

Try thinking that five times fast. And how does he have such rough hands? He's an accountant. His palms should not have me thinking of him on a motorcycle throwing Molotov cocktails at a rival surf shop.

God, I've got issues. Why does that image make me pulse with need? I don't get time to ponder because we're suddenly standing in front of the surf god when Grayson finally lets go of me.

"Tilly, Tommy, this is Detective Parker. I believe you've all met before," he says.

"We have," Tilly deadpans and doesn't offer her hand for me to shake.

But Tommy is much more effusive. "Yes! Detective Parker. You clotheslined Til's cousin!" A blush colors my cheeks. He remembers me? And yes, I did take out his cousin. The guy dropped like a sack of flour. But when I saw him chasing an obviously scared pregnant lady, Tilly, instincts took over. There wasn't time to call for backup, even if Harry was a block away picking up some coffee. The assignment was on a whim anyway. Following Keaton was supposed to lead us to a local drug dealer. Boy, did it ever. I'm still touted as a hero for bringing down the Cardenas family. But I didn't do much other than take Grayson's confession in a hospital. Well, and save Tilly's life, though you wouldn't know that by how she's currently glaring at me.

"Uh, yes," I say, barely remembering the question.

Tommy laughs, and I swear I see his muscles laugh with him. His thighs could probably crush cement. "You have got to show me how to do that. I'd love to take Greg down a peg or two."

Tilly is groaning. "No. Your wrestling with Greg is becoming an issue. Remember your ankle?"

He winces and nods at Tilly. "You're right. You're always right, Til." A grin peaks out, but it's quickly smothered. Before she gets a chance to ask what I'm doing here, like she obviously wants to, her eyes widen at something behind me.

The twins are grabbing for the LEGOs, and Tilly swoops down. "Oh no you don't, little choking wizards."

I hurry down and start gathering up the loose pieces and putting them in the box. "Oh, sorry. We were just gonna finish this bag. I'll, erm… clean it up."

I dog-ear the page in the instruction book and tuck it inside the box as well. The pieces that had been connected already are carefully picked up and placed out of reach of the twins on the TV stand. Hopefully, Grayson can figure out where I left off on the expansive set.

The woman, Tilly, is staring at me as I do all this, making me feel more than a little self-conscious. Tilly is obviously some sort of badass. She has long, beautiful, silky black hair and a sleeve of colorful tattoos along one arm. Not only that, but I know she's part of the Cardenas family. She wasn't indicted or connected at all as far as I know, but you don't grow up working for the mob without learning a few tricks.

That makes me hesitate to test her. When I'm done, I brush my hands, though I don't have a good reason other than nerves, and smile at the group.

"I was just heading out," I say.

"I believe he's here for his car," Grayson says, and Tommy nods. "No need to rush off on our account, Detective." Tommy grins that half-smile that has made him famous nearly all over the world. I'm a woman, okay? So when Tommy bends down to pick up one of his sons, I'm swooning. Hard.

Harry was right. I do have a thing for dads. First Grayson, and now this hunk of man meat. Unfortunately for me, I'm not the only one in the room. Like a bird gliding in for a landing, Tilly walks up to her…husband? Boyfriend? Baby daddy? Who knows. I don't really have a file on her because she was never arrested or even wanted. Neither of them are wearing rings. Regardless, she grabs his ass, then kisses his lips roughly. Not a glance is spared my way, but I know it's for my benefit. Message received, little mob princess, he's taken.

"Oof, babe, not while I'm holding Drew," Tommy says when she lets him go.

She pecks his check, then glances at me as if to ask, 'Oh, you're still here?' while snaking a hand around his waist.

I study my feet in shame. "My sister is waiting." It's not true. I haven't even texted her yet. Staying at her place is always a good time, though. If I'm not quick, she'll be drunk before I show up. Then I'll spend the night either taking care of her or joining in. Since I don't work tomorrow, I can already guess which way it will go. Stacy is twelve years younger than me. A surprise baby that my parents… well, I'm not going to think about that now. It wasn't good for them. For me, it was a dream come true. I loved having a sidekick. Still do. That's probably why I get along with Harry so well.

"Seriously, stay. We're gone in five minutes. Sammy dropped us off," Tommy says.

Digging through his pocket, Grayson pulls the keys out and hands them over. "Let me know if you need anything," he says, clearly dismissing them.

But Tilly closes an eye and smirks. "Actually, I was gonna let the boys play for a bit." Grayson groans, and Tilly adds, "You don't mind, do you, Grayson?"

Yep. She's pissed about something, and I have the suspicion that it's about me. He forces a smile on his face. I know it's forced because it doesn't reach his eyes. The wolf is out right now, and even his scary cousin can't tame it. "Of course not. Please, enjoy my home that you pay for."

Tilly sucks her teeth. "Subtle, Gray."

"I wasn't trying to be subtle. I was trying to hint that you aren't currently welcome, but I can't kick you out because you control my housing situation."

I'm backing out of the room slowly. This is not something I'm supposed to witness; I know that. With a tense jaw, Tilly sits on the couch as the kids tug on Nick the giraffe between them. "It's passive-aggressive. If you want us to leave, let us know. I'm not going to stop paying for your damn home because you have no couth!"

My hand is on the doorknob, hoping like hell no one looks my way as Grayson yells, "I have couth which is exactly why I won't say it!"

But Tommy is laughing. "Dude, you guys are hilarious. Couth?" He plops down on the couch and clicks on Grayson's TV. "Yo, Gray, you got any beer?"

Without answering, Grayson stomps into his kitchen. As he does, I open the front door. "Really, Grayson. I should go. Thanks for dinner." I'm out the front door without another word, feeling more than a little cold. If Tilly's reception of me is any indication, I won't be back any time soon. Grayson might not be under the mob's thumb anymore, but it's clear that someone is still in charge of his every move. With everything Tilly has done for Grayson and George, no way will I get in the middle of that.