Finding Summer - Suzanne Halliday Page 0,285

that into the discussion if I saw a chance.”

A snort of laughing boomed from Reed. “Did she, now? Well, shit. Did she also happen to mention I got a full-ride baseball scholarship?”

“Oh, my god.” Arnie laughed. “Women are devious.”

They fist-bumped, and Reed sighed.

“If you tell her this, I will shit in your sock drawer until the end of time. Got it?” Reed’s tone left no doubt he was serious.

Arnie nodded.

With a flat voice, Reed said, “I’ve seen enough. Know what I mean?”

Oh, hell yeah, he knew what he meant. “We’ve all been there.”

“Cutting the cord won’t be easy. You know how this goes. I’m an asset. An investment. They won’t just let me go and wave goodbye at the door. For now, I’m laying low. Keeping my own counsel and saying nothing to anybody. The minute I make my exit plan known, well …” Reed groaned.

With a shit-eating grin spreading on his face, Arnie croaked, “Dude! You’ve come to the right place! Let me tell you about an undiscovered benefit of the asset club. No, they won’t throw you a farewell party, but if you’re smart and play them just right, they’ll agree to shake hands and part on good terms.”

“Play them just right?”

He flashed his teeth in a Teddy Roosevelt-style grin. “The dark suits were so freaked when I chose a civilian life that we hammered out a platinum parachute for my post-government service. They gave me everything I asked for, threw in a few perks, and promised to be nice. In return, I live my life, and from time to time, I lend them a hand.”

“That’s what happened when you went off radar, isn’t it? They pulled you back in.”

He shrugged. “I’m never really out, and you won’t be either. It’s best to acknowledge this fact going in. Not to them though.” He sniggered. “Internally.”

Reed chuckled. “I see where this is going.”

Giving Summer’s brother a congenial thump on the back, he said, “Just give it some thought. When you’re ready to bounce, let me know, and I’ll give you some pointers. And I’m dead serious about NIGHTWIND.”

“Does this mean I have to be nice to you?” Reed asked with a ton of snark.

“Nah.” Arnie chuckled. “After how royally I fucked up my relationship with your sister and almost lost everything, I figure there’s a solid decade, if not more, of isolation in the doghouse and groveling ahead.”

There was bliss, and then there was what she experienced with Arnie. He was extraordinary in every way. Yeah, sure, he was easy on the eyes if big, bold Viking sex gods were your thing, but the man inside was a million times more appealing to her than looks.

She was curled up on his lap, listening to samples of the songs they wanted for the wedding. He had strong opinions. So did she. Their blended tastes made for an eclectic mix—sort of like them as a couple.

“I found this tune,” he told her. “For your entrance. I know you don’t want ‘Here Comes the Bride.’ Wanna hear it?”

“What’s it called?”

He showed her an album cover. “The song’s title is ‘Fade to Blue,’ from The Sunflower Waltz.”

Her man was a fan of symbolism. She smiled into his eyes and stroked his face. “Let’s have a listen.”

The way joy flooded his expression gave her unimaginable pleasure. He was trying so hard.

“This is a piano piece, but I thought we’d use a harp duo Senior recommends.”

“Ooh, harps, yes,” she cooed. “Harps are romantic.”

Ten seconds into the song, she was on board.

“Um, I have a request.” She didn’t have a coy bone in her body, but she knew how to turn it on at the right moment.

“Whatever you want, baby girl. Say it and I’ll make it happen.”

He was too easy sometimes.

“You know how there are all sorts of YouTube videos with wedding flash mobs and interpretive routines?”

He laughed and squeezed her in a hug. “A flash mob?”

“It’s just an example.” She held his eyes and spelled it out. “I want us to do something right after I now pronounce you man and wife.”

“In front of everybody?”

“Yes.”

His smile came slowly, but once it formed he was grinning ear to ear. “A continuation of our karaoke routine?”

She giggled and hopped up and down on his lap. “Yes, yes! And I have the perfect song. I love it. Ari loves it. Your father and Pops love it.”

“Oh, wait. You mean that tune I caught you and Senior dancing to in the workout room?”

“That’s the one. It’s your song,