“Eric,” Danny said.
“Eric,” I confirmed.
“He’s too darn cute with that smile,” Steele said. “Looks like a feisty one.”
“He was great,” I said simply.
“Carson, is your mom the bad guy this time?” Danny asked in a whisper, eyes wide.
“No,” I said immediately. “Of course not.”
“So, what is the job, then?” Breck asked much louder.
Steele threw a look around the deserted dining room. “Not the place, babe.”
“It’s okay,” I said, taking a sip of coffee to buy myself some time. My blood had to be half caffeine by now. With a sigh, I placed the thick ceramic mug on the table. Everyone was looking at me expectantly. “The thing is…” I dropped my eyes to the black liquid and swirled the cup around, watching the ripples. “The thing is, there isn’t a job. Not really.”
“What?” Steele asked. “No job?”
I shook my head. “Not as such.”
“So, what does Charlie want from you, then?” Leo asked.
God, this was so stupid. I should just call Miranda and tell her I wasn’t doing it. But I wouldn’t. What if Charlie’s crazy idea worked? What if?
“He, um.” I cleared my throat and took a sip of coffee. To my horror, I felt my cheeks heating.
“Oh my God,” Breck said. “Carson-Jake, for the love of God, spill it. I have to know what has you embarrassed. I didn’t think that was possible.”
“Fine.” I set the mug on the table harder than necessary. “Charlie wants me to try to get back together with my high school boyfriend,” I said, looking Breck directly in his eyes. “Who happens to be Eric.”
3 Carson
“Excuse me?” Breck said, blinking rapidly. He shook his head and pretended to clean his ear with a fingertip. “Can you repeat that? I must have heard wrong.”
Leo dropped his head into his hands.
“You heard me,” I said.
“I am going to need so many more details,” Breck said breathlessly, leaning forward to get as close to me as possible. “All the details. The dirtier the better.”
“Wait a minute,” Steele said. He leaned back against the curved booth and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re telling me that Charlie Bingham, conman, blackmailer, liar, and thief, went to all this trouble”—he waved his hand to indicate our entire ragtag band of criminals—“just to get you to call your ex-boyfriend?” His eyes narrowed. “What, exactly, was your relationship with Charlie?”
Leo shifted in his chair to get a better look at my face. Several expressions crossed his face, and in his eyes, I read a thousand different questions, but he refrained from asking any of them. Sooner or later, we were going to have to have a conversation about my long and complicated history with Charlie Bingham but not now. Not in public.
“We worked together a few times,” I said. That was all they were getting.
“I’m not buying it,” Steele said, face stony. “You’re lying.”
“Babe!” Breck said, offended for me. His brother’s expression, however, remained impassive.
“He’s a conman, babe,” Steele said. “Lying is what he’s best at. I refuse to believe it’s as simple as he’s saying.”
“I believe him,” Leo said to my utter astonishment. All eyes turned to him. It was his turn to study the coffee in his mug as if it held the secrets of the universe. The faraway gaze and the little half-smile on his face told me he was remembering something specific. “You wouldn’t think it, but Charlie was a big romantic. He believed in soul mates and happily ever after.”
Danny’s eyes were wide. “Really?”
“Really,” I replied, backing up Leo’s impression. “He saw every rom-com that came out.” When I’d pressed him on why he was single if he was such a believer in love, he’d shrugged and said, “I’m not dead yet. You never know what could happen.”
But I did know what happened. He was dead and he’d never found his true love. That could easily be me. Maybe that was why Charlie had been determined I make one last desperate attempt to get back something that I was sure had died fifteen years ago.
Fairly sure. Not one hundred percent sure. There was a tiny sliver of hope left in my heart that had made me agree to this wild goose chase. What was the worst that could happen? Eric couldn’t hate me any more than he already did, right?
“What does he look like now?” Danny asked.
“Hold on.” Pictures of Eric were easy enough to find, particularly if you liked him in his hockey gear, which I did. I pulled up one of my favorites from last year when he’d participated in a hockey camp for low-income kids looking to get into skating. At six-four without skates, he towered over the kids. In this picture, he had four kids, two on each hand, tugging him forward on the ice as he leaned back, trying to resist; a human tug-o-war. His blue eyes sparkled and his smile was wide and genuine. He looked so happy.
I slid the phone over to the boys. “Oh, he’s a Viking!” Breck said. “He could plunder my shores any time.”
“He’s like a blond Steele,” Danny said.
Steele snorted his opinion of that.
“Well, he is wearing a lot of pads,” I conceded. “But he’s a big man. He was that height at seventeen.”
“Damn, no wonder you were crushed to give that up,” Breck said.
I took the phone back. “Well, yes. Quite. Thank you for reminding me.”
“Don’t worry, Carson. We’ll get your boy back,” Steele said.
Leo frowned. “I don’t think we can make that—”
“Yes,” Breck cried, cutting Leo off. He clapped his hands in delight. “Operation Get Carson-Jake Laid is on. I am so down for this. Because, dude, you really need to get laid.” His eyes were wide with sincerity. “I mean, it’s been months since we met and I don’t think you’ve gotten any this whole time. Months! I would die.” He grabbed on to Steele’s arm as if needing reassurance that he would never meet such a tragic fate.
Ah, youth. Leo’s glare matched mine.
Breck recoiled from our combined looks. He held his hand up, palm out, and leaned away from the table. “I’m just saying. Might help. Both of you,” he added with a glance at Leo.
Leo closed his eyes and pressed his thumb against the spot between his eyebrows—the wordless gesture of disbelief that he habitually used around Breck. Breck had that effect on people.
“We are going to need a plan,” Danny said. “We have to scope him out. We have to find out his routines, what he likes, if he’s seeing anybody.”
“He’s not,” I interrupted.
“Have you considered calling him?” Leo suggested. “Just talking to him on the phone?”
Oh, please. As if I was going to take advice from him of all people. “Really, Agent Shook? Is that what you’ve done in your life? Was there a special someone in your life with whom you had deep, sincere talks about what it all meant and what the future held?” I hoped the look I gave him conveyed the fact that I knew more about Agent Shook than he would be comfortable with me knowing.