Outmatched

I caught it midair and unfolded it. At my side, Parker gasped as she caught sight of the headline and picture of Franklin Fairchild.

A grin spread over my mouth. “So, the weaselly little fuck got indicted for fraud, huh?”

Parker grabbed the flopping edge of the paper and read over my arm. “Not just that. Sixteen counts, including embezzlement, tax evasion, and money laundering.”

“I shouldn’t gloat over someone else’s misery but …” I trailed off with a shrug. Because fuck that guy.

Parker’s gaze was alight with mischief. “Bet he’d rather deal with sand snakes now, eh?”

When we both started laughing, Dean frowned. “You two are weird, you know that? You’re morphing into a hive mind.”

My arm wrapped around Parker’s slim shoulders, and I drew her close. “You should be so lucky, little bro.”

He scowled as though he’d sucked a lemon.

“He’s making a face,” Parker said sotto voce. “But one day it will happen to him, and we’ll be there to remind him.”

“Never,” Dean vowed with the confidence of the ignorant.

I tossed down the paper. “For now, why don’t we go out for a drink and celebrate?” Without waiting, I leaned down and slung Parker over my shoulder. She squealed loudly and slapped my ass.

But I knew she loved it when I carried her around–mainly because she told me, repeatedly. I lightly tapped her sweet ass in return and strode out of the room.

Dean followed with a sigh. “Okay, but tone it down when we’re in public. People aren’t supposed to be this happy.”

That’s where he was wrong. Being in love—being happy as fuck about it—was something we all deserved. I just didn’t know it until I had it. And now that I had, I was never letting it go.