BETWEEN HER BISCUITS

“Parker and Sadie were a perfect disaster from the start.” –Chelsea, Goodreads

“A quirky take on the classic small-town, girl-meets-boy romance, with plenty of eccentric characters and plot developments to keep things interesting.” –Libybet R. G., Proofreader, Red Adept Editing

“Quirky characters, hot romance, and a plot you can't stop reading! Another smashing success for Alina Jacobs’ Svensson brother series.” –Jennifer, Goodreads

Chapter 1

Sadie

Life is like a biscuit: perfectly fine on its own but so much better when smothered in sausage gravy. Yes, we Southerners love our food. But the perfect Southern woman was not supposed to like sausage. No, not that kind, the other kind—the kind that was attached to a perfect six-foot, four-inch hunk of man. Nope, not supposed to be interested. The perfect Southern woman was supposed to wait nicely for the debonair gentleman to ask her to go steady with him.

I had tried to be the flawless Southern woman that my grandmother always wanted me to be. I had attended her alma mater, a small, cozy all-women's college, where I studied American literature and history. I had even hosted various fundraisers for charity in my spare time. All I needed was the husband. Except, surprise! I hadn’t met any men, eligible or otherwise, at an all-women’s college.

Maybe Granny had meant to give me the heads-up on how not to be a twenty-four-year-old virgin, but she never had the chance. My father and his gold-digging girlfriend had spent years funneling Granny's money, including my college tuition, to their doomsday polygamist cult, with its charismatic cult leader, and the stress put her in an early grave. By the time I graduated (late of course; thanks, double major), I was broke, jobless, and a big freaking virgin.

Emphasis on the “big.” I looked down at the mostly eaten seafood platter in front of me at Bread and Fire, a popular restaurant in the quaint New England town of Harrogate. It was meant for two people. Of course I was alone—not that I was supposed to be.

In an effort to solve my money problem, I had moved up to Harrogate several months before to live with my college roommate, Erika. By day I worked at low-paying temp jobs, but all my free time was spent trying to find a husband, or at least a halfway-decent guy to lose my virginity to. I had met Parker Svensson on an edgy dating site for “interesting people.” The fee had made my credit card scream for mercy, but it had been worth it because Parker and I had hit it off from the first message.

He was smart and funny and looked amazing in his photographs. He was like Chris Evans—not the version with his overgrown beard, though that had a sexy, scruffy appeal. No, he was Chris Evans as Captain America—blond hair, cheekbones that magnified his intense eyes, a straight nose that drew a hard line down to kissable lips, a body with broad shoulders, and a very fine ass that looked great in a suit and au natural. Not that he sent me a frontal shot or anything—though there was one raunchy pose on a very expensive-looking sports car. We texted all day and night. Then he asked me out on a date. All my problems would be solved! I, Sadie Henderson, would no longer be a virgin!

In hindsight, I had celebrated too soon. It was obvious as I sat staring at the mostly eaten seafood platter that Parker had stood me up.

“Do you want me to box up the rest of that?” the waitress asked sympathetically as she came by. I shrugged, refusing to let the humiliation show on my face. Maybe he’s late? Should I keep waiting? The restaurant probably wanted the table though.

“I guess a box would be good.” Finishing off my third cocktail, I texted Parker again through the dating app.

Sadie: I'm leaving. Sorry this didn't work out. Maybe another time…

Nothing. Just as it had been the other twenty times I had texted him.

The waitress handed me the boxed-up food and the bill. I winced at the total but handed over my almost-maxed-out credit card. After scribbling my signature on the receipt, I headed back home, texting Erika on my way and eating the rest of the seafood platter from the takeout box as I walked slowly down Main Street.

Sadie: Leaving. Date is a bust. Still a virgin. Will probably die this way.

Erika: I'm still in Manhattan. I thought you might need the apartment for, you know.

Sadie: *sigh* Maybe something came up with one of Parker’s little brothers.

Erika: Or he's a dick. I work with Svenssons at Greyson Hotel Group. Not often, but enough to know they are total dicks.

Sadie: He was so nice! What happened?

A train blared. As much as I was a Southern girl at heart and was not appreciative of the New England chill, Harrogate was a cool town. It was like Stars Hollow from Gilmore Girls, complete with quirky characters, holiday festivals, and a train that drove right down the middle of Main Street. The engine said “Svensson PharmaTech” on the side in bright white letters.

As the short train rattled past, it revealed a fancy restaurant across the street with a large picture window. Framed in my view was Parker fucking Svensson. He was with another woman. She was tall and lithe and had perfectly straight hair. She probably didn't eat a whole seafood platter by herself either, I noted silently, looking down at the empty takeout container.

I was sick, then I was angry. How dare he treat me like that?

The cocktails and fried seafood churned in my stomach. The sinking feeling that I had completely wasted my life smashed me in the face. All the unfairness—of my father stealing my tuition money, of my own stupidity for not getting my life together and then trusting some male named Parker—was too much. I marched across the street, car horns honking, and swung open the heavy door to the restaurant.

“Do you have a reservation?” the hostess asked when she saw me.

“I do, in fact,” I said too loudly and gestured to Parker's table. Guess those cocktails had been stronger than I thought. “Him.”

Ignoring the hostess’s confused protests, I pushed past her and stomped over to Parker’s table. I grabbed the edge of the round table and heaved, sending the plates of steak and bowls of soup tumbling into Parker’s lap.

“What the hell?” he yelled. “Are you insane? Kaitlyn, call the police.”

“The police? This is your fault!” I shrieked. “You don't get to stand me up so that you can go on a date with someone else!”

Parker, confused and angry, stood up, pieces of lettuce raining on the floor around him. “I've never seen you before in my life.”

“Lies!” I yelled, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

His date jumped up. “Why would he go on a date with you?” Kaitlyn sneered.

“We were talking online for weeks,” I insisted, ignoring her. “You said you really liked me. You asked me for a topless photo.”

The restaurant patrons had their smartphones out. Harrogate, like many small towns, ran on gossip. This was going to be all over the Facebook group. I didn't care. I was a virgin at age twenty-four. I was about as low as you could go. The restaurant manager hurried over, phone in hand. The 911 dispatcher’s voice was tinny over the speaker phone.

There goes my life. Not only was I going to die a virgin, I was going to die a virgin in jail.

Chapter 2

Parker

“I am so sorry,” I said to Kaitlyn after the police had led the short, curvy woman away. If she hadn’t been ruining my dinner and screaming at me, I might have even described her as cute.

“It's okay,” Kaitlyn said, kissing my cheek. “You'll just have to make it up to me another time. Rain check?”

I gave a noncommittal answer then walked her to her car.

The reality was that a part of me was glad the crazy girl had come and ended the date with Kaitlyn early. She was technically my employee, though not one of my direct reports. As the chief technology officer at Svensson PharmaTech, I was responsible for research and development of new chemical and medical products.

Kaitlyn worked in my department. She had seemed like the type of woman a man like me ought to marry. When she had asked if I wanted to grab dinner, I had agreed, but the date had been lackluster at best. Kaitlyn had only talked about her ritzy family and her sister's upcoming wedding.

Not that I could fault someone for having a weird family. My own was nothing remotely close to Leave It to Beaver, as I was immediately reminded when I let myself into the Svensson estate. My younger brothers raced to the front door to greet me.

The Svensson house was chaotic. The kids were usually wary enough of Hunter that mornings weren’t a complete disaster, but with two dozen kids and however many adults decided to be in town and not helping, we had a full house.

“Did you bring leftovers?” they demanded.

“Unless you want to lick them off my pants, then no,” I told them.

Davy, who was the youngest and came up to about my knee, stuck his tongue out and licked my pant leg.

“Stop that. It is revolting behavior,” my older brother Hunter barked out.

Why was I living in a house full of not all of my brothers but a good chunk of them? Great question and one I asked myself multiple times a day.

The younger ones were all my half brothers, products of a polygamist cult leader father and his many wives. The adult ones were my full brothers. Remy was the oldest and sported a bushy beard and scars, physical and psychological, from his time in the Marines. Hunter and my other older brothers had abandoned me in the cult when my father kicked them out. Remy had been the one who rescued me from that compound. He was still my favorite. The rest of my brothers could eat a bag of dicks.

Though Remington, Remy for short, was the oldest, Hunter liked to act as if he was. He was arrogant as a default and could be downright evil, especially now that Meghan Loring had tossed him to the curb and refused to get back together with him.

Then came Gunnar, who, with his shaggy hair and stoner attitude, was a reality TV producer. The Great Christmas Bake-Off was popular, especially the most recent season. Now Gunnar was in the process of frittering all that profit away on ridiculous reality show ideas that would never pan out.

The next oldest were Archer and Mace, the twins. Leif Svensson’s genes were strong, and he also only took blond women as his wives. As a result, my brothers and I all looked eerily similar, but Mace and Archer were identical. Though they were twins, their personalities were polar opposites. Mace was the CEO of PharmaTech and straitlaced, deliberative, and irritatingly risk averse. Archer was covered in tattoos and slept until two in the afternoon.

Weston and Blade, owners of the ThinkX consulting firm, were Irish twins—only nine months apart—and were the closest in age to me of my full brothers. Blade never met a spreadsheet he didn’t love, and Weston was an arrogant jerk. They were also in the process of moving their company to Harrogate, which meant I had been seeing way too much of them recently.

Then there was me, the greatest Svensson you would ever meet. Standing across the room from me was the worst: Garrett. Classic middle child, he was younger than Mace and Archer and older than Weston and Blade. Chief financial officer of Svensson PharmaTech, he probably had all our phones tapped, deals cut with various government agencies, and multiple parallel plots for world domination. He was, in short, a prick.

Garrett glared at me over the sea of towheaded kids between us. He and Hunter paid my father to send our younger half brothers to Harrogate as opposed to dumping them in the desert. In a polygamist cult, you don't want a bunch of single males running around for obvious reasons. All in all, I had almost a hundred brothers. Many of my father’s nine wives had escaped the compound, though none cared enough about their children to take them with them when they escaped. Around two dozen of my kid brothers lived in Harrogate with us. The rest of them were in college or off in Manhattan, Boston, Seattle, or another big city.

“Why are you covered in salad?” Garrett asked, low voice echoing around the large foyer from the wide hallway that led to the terrace and huge backyard. He had recently procured himself a girlfriend. Penny was awesome and fun and warm. Archer was under the impression that she was going to make Garrett personable and pleasant to be around. I was under no such illusions.

“Some crazy woman did this,” I complained. “I’m filing a police report.”

“And now it's all over the Harrogate Facebook group and going viral on Reddit. I'm having to call in a multitude of favors to try and kill this story,” Garrett said, crossing into the dining room.

My little brothers crowded around me.

“Is she going to be your girlfriend?” Davy asked me. “Garrett’s girlfriend is nice.”

“Penny cooked pumpkin rolls and pot roast for dinner. She even let us make sandwiches, too, if we wanted,” Henry said in excitement.

“If you got a girlfriend, she could cook, and then we wouldn’t have to eat oatmeal for dinner,” Andy complained.

“That only happened once,” I said, “and it was because I was busy trying to keep Nate from sticking his hand in the garbage disposal and the chicken burned. I am far too busy to have a girlfriend.”

“So who was that that you were at dinner with?” Hunter asked.

“A colleague,” I retorted.

Hunter snorted. “You’re as bad as Garrett.”

Garrett froze in the doorway to the kitchen.

My little brothers all let out a collective “Oooh!” Garrett was not someone you crossed. Garrett was the type of man who would act like everything was fine, then one night you wake up and all your furniture is glued to the ceiling.

“What did you say?” he said, slowly turning to face Hunter. “Penny was a temp. Stop implying I took advantage of the situation.”

“Aww, Garrett did take advantage,” Penny said, coming in from the kitchen. The smell of freshly baked pumpkin bread followed her in. “And it was very nice advantage too!” she added, kissing him.

“Parker, since your dinner ended up on your lap,” Penny said, sliding a plate onto the table, “I’m sure you’re still hungry. I made you a plate. We’re all about to eat the pie I made for dessert. And while we eat dessert,” she addressed my little brothers, “we can harass Parker about his date with not one but two women!”

Mace and Josie came home while Hunter was telling Davy to eat his pie with a knife and a fork and not his hands.

“Why can’t we put our office in town?” Weston complained as he and Blade trailed Mace. Remy cut them each a piece of pie. “We need offices on Main Street, near the train station.” Weston sat down next to me and stabbed some of the meat off of my plate.

“You mean convince Greg to release his stranglehold on the real-estate portfolio and give you a building then fight with the city,” Mace retorted. “Good luck trying to convince Deputy Mayor Loring to approve it.”

“That’s why we have the Rural Trust,” Weston said.

“It’s my foundation,” Remy countered around a huge piece of pie. “It’s for investing in the working class, not a slush fund for you all to build your fancy-pants offices.”

“All you’ve invested in is Earnest’s farm,” Hunter retorted.

“And the straw factory,” Remy said.

I clenched my jaw. All last fall, Garrett had complained nonstop about the straws. In order to screw over Hunter—and protect the environment, of course, but mostly to screw Hunter—Deputy Mayor Meghan Loring had banned single-use plastics in Harrogate.

“Parker’s going to help you run that,” Hunter said, “You can’t take credit for it.”

While I had been studiously trying to ignore the issue, I had helped Billy and Oscar design an environmentally friendly bamboo composite for a dart gun. Penny, Garrett’s girlfriend, had discovered that these dart guns made perfect straws. Now they would be manufactured by Remington’s foundation.

“As a scientist, I helped develop the composite material,” I protested. “My part is done. Why do I have to run the factory? Make someone else do it.”

“This factory has to be a success,” Hunter said. “The Thalian Biotech deal is tied to it. We need to make sure it's not going to smell or blow up. We’re having a meeting about this issue tomorrow. Parker, you’ll need to prepare an update.”

“No thanks, not helping,” I retorted, piling roast beef on another pumpkin roll smeared with horseradish aioli.

“At least just help get the factory off to a good start,” Hunter said. “Who else is going to do it, Archer?”

I glared at him.

“You can file a patent. You might even win an award for the composite,” Remy cajoled.

“Fine,” I grumbled. “I will marginally help. But I don’t have a lot of time to dedicate to the project. I’m very busy as it is.”

“I know,” Mace said brightly. “That's why I hired you a personal assistant. She starts tomorrow!”

Chapter 3

Sadie

It was a Sunday night, and the jail was mostly empty when Susie, the police officer, brought me in.

“I guess I need a lawyer,” I sniffed as she put me in the jail cell.

“I’m a lawyer,” a young woman said, high heels echoing in the historic building as she approached Susie. I recognized her as Meghan Loring, the deputy mayor of Harrogate.

“Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear in the restaurant. Susie, I think this is a very clear case of an innocent woman suffering from Arrogant Svensson Male Syndrome.”

Susie rolled her eyes. “You aren't the first person to dump food all over a Svensson, Sadie, and you probably won't be the last. Just have someone come pick you up, and we'll forget about this.”

I nodded, wiping my tear-stained face. “Let me call…”

Before I could finish the sentence, the door to the police station burst open, and Jasmine, one of my best friends from college, swept in. She had done college the right way. During her freshman year, she had found a significant other with a high-paying job who was a few years older than she was. They had married right after Jasmine graduated, and then Jasmine and her new spouse had moved into their tastefully renovated historic Victorian mansion with their houseplants and corgis. Jasmine’s main goal in life was to be a mom to a huge pack of kids, and her spouse was very supportive.

How had she managed all of this at an all-girl college, whereas I had failed miserably? She cheated—she was a lesbian. She was also fun and awesome enough that I was only slightly jealous. Between organizing charity events and running the Harrogate Corgi Club, Jasmine and Amelia, her super-smart and well-paid wife, were working on their foster care license. Yep, Jasmine had her shit together. And I, peering out from behind the bars of a jail cell, did not.

Jasmine was clearly trying not to laugh as she pulled out her phone and snapped pictures.

“I cannot believe you were arrested! The video is all over Facebook.”

“It's not her fault,” Meg insisted.

“You were so excited about your date,” Jasmine said sympathetically as Susie unlocked the doors to the jail cell. “I can't believe Parker stood you up.”

“I can,” Meg replied. “Those Svensson brothers are all bad news.”

“I don’t know if they’re completely bad,” Jasmine said thoughtfully. “I see Hunter in my foster care classes, since he takes in his little brothers…” She trailed off under Meg's withering gaze.

“Hunter is a piece of—”

“And I think that's enough from the future mayor of Harrogate,” Susie said, sweeping Jasmine and me out of the police station. “Stay out of trouble, please, girls!”

***

“What am I going to do?” I wailed as Jasmine drove me back to Erika's apartment in her luxury SUV. She was totally ready to mom it up. “I start my new personal assistant job at Svensson PharmaTech tomorrow! Parker is going to be there. He owns part of the company.” I started hyperventilating and leaned over to rest my head on the dashboard. “I need a drink. And some french fries.”

“No more fried food. You need a shower,” Jasmine said, wrinkling her nose. “We'll have drinks tomorrow to celebrate your first day at work.”

“What if Parker sees me and fires me?” I groaned.

Jasmine patted me on the leg and handed me a box. “I made English toffee. That should cheer you up!”

I inspected the box. Of course it was impeccably wrapped.

“Have fun at your new job tomorrow! Maybe you’ll find a sexy maintenance guy to bang!”

“I need a rich lawyer,” I muttered as I climbed out of the large SUV.

“Lower your expectations!” Jasmine called out as I shut the door. The window rolled down. “Older virgins can’t be choosers!”

A part of me wanted to be choosy, I thought as I trudged up the narrow staircase to Erika’s studio apartment. I wanted my first time to be magical and special, with an attractive guy who cared about me. When I had met Parker online, I’d thought all my dreams had come true. I needed to face the fact that dreams weren’t going to help me get laid. I sighed as I unlocked the door. Jasmine was right. Being too choosy had led me to this point.

The tiny studio apartment I shared with Erika was above Ida's General Store. It wasn't a chic apartment though. Oh, I was sure there were stamped-tin ceilings under all that water-damaged acoustical tile and perhaps wood under the linoleum, but someone had done a horrific renovation in the seventies, and now there was carpet in the bathroom and faded orange wallpaper on the walls. But it was free. Erika wasn’t making me pay because the rent was so cheap. Because she split her time between Harrogate and Manhattan, my friend had told me she didn't need an expensive place.

The fluorescent lights flickered as I pulled a leftover sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit out of the fridge. While I microwaved it, I poured myself a glass of wine from the box in the fridge. All that raging at Parker and being in jail had made me hungry. A virgin cannot live off of English toffee alone, though I was sure it was going to be amazing.

While I had missed out on a lot of the good Southern-woman genes, I did have the Southern cooking genes. I loved to cook. Fried chicken, biscuits and gravy, fried pork chops—I cooked all that and more. If you came to one of my dinner parties, you were probably drinking boxed wine and sitting on milk crates, but you would be full and satisfied.

Now that my childhood dream of being a pampered housewife with my own unicorn and an indoor swimming pool with a talking dolphin was never going to happen, I had a new dream. I wanted to open my own restaurant. It would be the physical location of my small money sink of a baking company called Between Her Biscuits. I even had a booth reserved at the upcoming maker fair to introduce everyone in town to yummy Southern food, with an emphasis on biscuits. I loved biscuits—fluffy, light, with a variety of fillings, both sweet and savory, you couldn’t go wrong with a biscuit. They never judged. They were always there. Eating a biscuit was like being hugged from the inside. And I desperately needed a hug.

Taking my food, I flopped down on one of the twin beds, sagging deep into the cheap mattress. Then, because I needed this night to be even more miserable for some reason, I scrolled through all the messages and pictures Parker had sent me. He was very good-looking. Though he looked arrogant in the photos, I hadn’t pegged him as a sociopath, which is what you would have to be to stand someone up so you could go on a date with another girl. I sighed as the shirtless picture of him came up. It was the second-to-last message he’d sent me. He was staring right at the camera, gray eyes intense, blond hair slightly tousled. The message said, “Care to return the favor?”

I had told him that I didn’t send shirtless pics to men I had never even met before. Then he had told me to meet him for dinner and listed the time and the place. I was intrigued by the forwardness. That was what I needed if I was going to lose my V-card—a man who was going to take charge. Because if he didn’t, I was afraid I might start laughing hysterically the first time I saw an erect penis.

I groaned and stuffed the last of the biscuit into my mouth then started on the toffee. As I ate, I stared at the messages from Parker, wondering what the hell had happened.

Chapter 4

Sadie

The perfect Southern woman is always composed. She arrives with impeccable makeup and a matching outfit and wears a hat. She always arrives early—unless she’s going to a party, in which case she arrives fifteen minutes late to give the hostess time to prepare.

None of that applied to me the next morning. Too much wine, fried food, and sugar had knocked me out. I had slept through two alarms and was finally awoken by the repeated ringing of the doorbell.

“Yoo-hoo!” Ida, the older woman who ran Ida's General Store and my—well, Erika's—landlady, called through the door.

I rolled over, hoping she would go away.

“Your friend Erika rang me. She was worried you were going to miss your first day,” Ida said, letting herself inside.

I sat up, crumbs raining down my shirt, then I looked at the clock on my phone.

“Crap! I have to be there in twenty minutes. I cannot afford to lose this job. My first student loan payment is due in two weeks!”

“I remember when I was in college,” Ida said, waxing poetic.

I liked Ida. She was nice, friendly, and didn't give me crap about illegally subletting the apartment. She was, however, a notorious gossip and loved small-town drama. She was also having way more sex than me.

“I have been on my share of bad dates, let me tell you. Though I have not dumped a full dinner on a man. One time I did cover a man in chocolate. Of course, that was part of a sex roleplay,” she said thoughtfully as I raced around the apartment, trying to change clothes, brush my teeth, and comb the English toffee out of my hair.

“And just last night, Bert wanted me to lick edible paint off of him. Of course, he's such a dummy that it was prune juice and not edible paint. I've been up since four this morning,” Ida said, rattling on.

“Sorry, Ida,” I said, cutting her off. “I have to go. I drank way too much wine to run or even walk to Svensson PharmaTech. I’m probably going to have to crawl.” I pulled out another foil-wrapped biscuit sandwich and put it in my purse for lunch. I did not have money to eat out, and who knew if Svensson PharmaTech offered free snacks.

“I won the poker game on Saturday, and I scored one of Art's cars,” Ida said, clearly proud of herself. “I thought you could use it to commute to your new job.”

“Really? Thank you!” I exclaimed.

“It's not anything special,” she said, following me out of the apartment, “but it will take you up the hill.”

“It's perfect,” I said, hugging her.

The car was an ugly old two-door Volvo, the kind with that weird canvas top. It smelled like wet dog. The steering wheel was sticky. I tried to relax my shoulders as I settled into the driver’s seat. You do not have any money to afford a new car. Just as with your choice of men, you have to take what you can get. This is fine.

“Have a great first day!” Ida said cheerfully as she slammed the car door shut. The mirror popped off and fell to the ground with a crunch.

“It just has to get me up the hill, right?” I said, hoping I didn’t sound too desperate.

But the car didn't seem to want to go up the hill. I was not a car person. I didn’t know how to change a battery or check the oil. But even I could tell there was something seriously wrong with the little Volvo. It creaked and groaned as I tried to nurse it up the hill to Svensson PharmaTech. The glass-and-steel buildings were built on a former landfill, and they gazed out over the picturesque town. I was too busy sweating to enjoy the view. To make it the last little bit, I had opened the door and stuck one foot outside to give the car some extra oomph. Finally the Volvo sputtered into the parking lot. I wanted to sit on one of the benches and collect myself, but I was already late for my first day.

While adjusting my hair and praying there weren’t any sweat stains on my blouse, I hurried into the main lobby. The white terrazzo floors and the full trees inside and warm wood accents were calming. Water trickled softly in the background.

If all these people weren’t here, I would totally take out my yoga mat and some candles.

“Sadie?” a tall blond man asked.

I did a double take. He looked like a slightly older version of Parker.

“Mace Svensson.”

“Hi! Of course, yes, you just—you look like someone I know.” Stop being awkward. We shook hands. “Sorry I'm late,” I apologized. “My car is crappy. I would never intentionally keep you waiting. I'm ready to begin any personal assistant work you might need.” So much for not being awkward.

“It's not for me,” Mace said. “I hired you as a surprise for my younger brother. He has a lot on his plate and could use someone to help him with writing his papers, booking appointments, and prepping for meetings. We're trying to offload some of that work from the general office managers, especially for C-suite executives,” Mace explained as I followed him outside along a wide path to an adjacent building.

“You'll be in the research and development wing,” Mace told me as we walked inside the cool building. Behind a large, thick glass window were several robots performing experiments, supervised by scientists wearing white protective suits and face masks.

“Here we are,” he said as we went upstairs. Mace knocked on the glass door, and the man at the desk turned around.

I gaped.

“Parker,” Mace said, “meet Sadie, your new assistant.”