Dirty Work - Regina Kyle Page 0,42

tossing an occasional kernel to Roscoe, as Ferris, Cameron and Sloane cavort their way through Chicago. Jake seems to be enjoying it. He’s smiling, laughing at all the right parts, looking more relaxed than he’s been since he left the apartment for his doctor’s appointment.

“So,” I ask when the movie is over and we’re packing up and trying to rouse Roscoe, who dozed off about the time Ferris was twisting and shouting on a float in the middle of Chicago’s Von Steuben Day Parade. “What did you think?”

“I liked it.” He nudges Roscoe off the blanket so he can pick it up.

“You liked it?” I echo, incredulous, grabbing the blanket from him and stuffing it in the picnic basket. “You just witnessed almost two hours of John Hughes’s genius, and that’s the best you could come up with?”

“I’m no movie critic.” He takes hold of Roscoe’s leash and tugs the dog to his feet. “But it was okay.”

“Okay?” I sound like a damn parrot, but I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “What part of cult classic did you not get?”

“All right, if you want the truth—”

“I do.” I think.

“I found Ferris kind of—” He pauses, and I’m not sure if he’s searching for the right word or if he’s afraid to spit it out and say what he’s thinking. “Annoying.”

He. Did. Not. Just. Say. That.

“Did we even watch the same movie?” I snatch the basket up and sling it over my arm. “Ferris is not annoying. He’s the complete opposite of annoying. He’s a freaking inspiration.”

“He’s a slacker. And a hedonist. His whole life is devoted to the pursuit of pleasure, at the expense of everything else. Schoolwork. Chores. Family relationships. I don’t find that particularly inspirational.”

“Did you miss the part about life moving fast, and if you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you’ll miss it?”

“That’s no excuse for blowing off your responsibilities.”

This conversation is starting to piss me off big-time, so I guess it’s a good thing we’re interrupted by a voice cutting through the crowd noise, calling my name.

“Hey, Ainsley. Over here.”

I swivel my head and spot her easily. Mia stands out in just about any crowd. But she’s even easier to pick out here, tall, dark and striking, wending her way through the throng of moviegoers with an easy grace even in skin-tight jeans and four-inch heels, a slightly older salt-and-pepper-haired man who I vaguely recognize as one of her fellow junior partners at DK&G following in her wake.

“I was right. It is you,” she says as she gets closer. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I could say the same thing about you. How’d you get out of the office before midnight?” I tease, giving her a quick, one-armed hug.

“Summer associate outing,” Salt-and-Pepper chimes in. “We thought it would be a nice change from the stuffy cocktail parties and dreary dinners.”

“Who thought it would be a nice change?” Mia arches a brow at him.

“You did,” he concedes with a smile.

“You remember Paul, don’t you? He’s in Mergers and Acquisitions.” Mia lays a possessive hand on his arm.

“Of course,” I fib. Now it’s my eyebrow that’s lifting. Mia hasn’t mentioned that she’s seeing anyone. Then again, I haven’t said anything to her about whatever it is I’m doing with Jake, either. I give Paul a polite nod. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Same,” he says. “How’s the errand girl business treating you?”

“Executive concierge,” Jake corrects him.

Shit. I almost forgot he’s here.

“Who’s your friend?” Mia asks before I can gather my wits and introduce him.

“Jake Lawson.” He reaches down to scratch Roscoe between the ears. “And this is Roscoe.”

Mia shoots me a we-are-so-talking-about-this-later look before refocusing her attention on Jake. “I thought you looked familiar. Top Shelf, right?”

“And you’re Mia’s friend. The one who was with her the night I got hurt.”

“How’s your arm?”

“Getting better, thanks.” He steps aside to avoid being crushed by a pack of teenagers barreling across the lawn, pulling an oblivious Roscoe, who’s too busy scarfing up stray popcorn to pay attention to his surroundings, with him. “We’re blocking traffic. How about we walk together?”

We head out of the park, Jake and Paul leading the way and making small talk as Mia and I lag a few feet behind.

“I’m happy to see you took my advice,” she says smugly.

“What advice?”

“To quit stalling and get your man.”

“Lower your voice.” I do a quick take to check on Jake. Fortunately, he’s far enough ahead and deep enough in conversation with Paul not