“Simone,” she vaguely heard her mother say and was peripherally aware of her and Grady also shaking hands as a full head of steam build inside her skull.

“Mom, Dad,” Suzanne said, yanking herself back from the bubbling lava pit of her rage, “meet Joshua Grady. He prefers Grady. I prefer Joshy.”

She gave a little laugh and slipped her arm around his waist as she smiled up at him, a whole lot of take that, dipshit in her eyes. He smiled back, his eyes glittering at her with a whole lot of oh no you just didn’t.

“So nice to meet you,” he said, turning a friendly face back to her parents. “Suzy has told me so much about you guys.”

Her mother’s eyebrows almost lifted right off her face. “Suzy?”

Simone St. Michelle had resisted all attempts by her father, her friends, schools, acquaintances, and colleagues to bastardize her daughter’s name. Sue, Suzy, Susie Q (her dad’s favorite), Susan, Susannah had all been met with disapproval. She’d named her daughter after Suzanne Valadon, a French painter known for her female nudes, and it had never been anything else.

Until now.

“Joshy likes to tease,” Suzanne said on a half laugh, giving his waist a hard squeeze.

“What?” he said playfully. “You don’t think she looks like a Suzy?” When her mother said nothing, he gave a chuckle, slung an arm around her neck, pulling her closer and dropping a kiss on top of her head.

On. Top. Of. Her. Head. He might as well have patted her instead.

“She’ll always be Suzy to me.”

Suzanne knew without a doubt he was going to call her that from now on. Freaking fabulous… “Well anyway,” Suzanne said, realizing it was a small price to pay for his help, “I was just going to help Mom and Dad with their bags.”

“I’ll do that,” he said with a smile that was so charming, Suzanne blinked twice in case it was a figment of her imagination. Charming had, thus far, not been in his repertoire.

She was starting to think the man had taken some acting lessons. Hell, if she hadn’t seen that shrapnel wound with her own eyes, she’d be tempted to suspect he’d spent twelve years in some acting troupe instead of the military.

“Thank you, Joshy.”

“Anything for you, my love,” he said, swooping in again, whispering “Two,” against her lips before he laid a quick, hard kiss on her mouth and pulled away again. “So, Albie,” he said like he’d just kissed a plank of wood. “Let’s get you guys unpacked.”

…