One

Parker Milten whistled a low tune as he tucked his hands in his coat pockets and prepared to exit the warmth of the hospital and step into the bitter January wind. He scrunched down in his heavy coat, burying most of his face in his scarf, and hurried past the small group of reporters who braved the biting cold in the off chance that they might get a peek at Ryan, Avery or little Addison.

Parker's scarf hid the amusement radiating on his face as he thought about the tiny, wrinkly bundle who had already severely wrapped Ryan Stone around her little finger so tightly it was hilarious. Of course, little Addison had all the Stone boys under her spell and she hardly weighed more than a wet pair of jeans. It was ridiculous.

"Ah," he whispered to himself as he approached his car. "She is cute – for a jelly bean."

Without withdrawing his keys from his pocket, he hit the unlock button and hurried toward his car. The sky was threatening snow and he wanted to be home and tucked into his house with a hockey game on the television and a plate of chicken wings on his lap.

"Parker Milten!"

He snapped around before his hand could even graze the door handle and squinted in the overcast light at the minute human being rushing forward. The figure scurrying toward him was dressed in a black, puffy down coat and a bright yellow beanie covering its head. He'd thought the voice sounded feminine but he couldn't be a hundred percent certain that the figure was female – it looked more like a pre-adolescent skater boy.

"Sorry, kid, I ain't doing autographs today," Parker mumbled, hoping the kid didn't throw a fit or cause a scene. He usually tried to have a bit more patience with the younger fans but it was too damn cold today.

"I'm not looking for an autograph," the figure said - and the voice was definitely feminine. "I was wondering if you'd take a little time out of your busy schedule to have a cup of coffee and answer a few questions."

He rolled his eyes but couldn't help but be amused by the tiny person before him. "I didn't know reporters came in miniature sizes," he quipped with a touch of laughter. "And let me tell you, my friend, you must have nads of steel to invite me to coffee."

The woman scoffed as she tugged the collar of her coat tighter around her face. "I don't know whether to feel insulted or complimented so I'll just let that little comment slide, huh? And I'll extend my invitation again. Hot coffee?"

"Nope, sorry," he said, highly entertained in spite of himself. "If you're looking for some sort of scoop on the newest member of the Stone clan then you're barking up the wrong tree. Try calling the studio and asking for Lindsey Preston the PR woman."

"No thanks," the woman said, her eyes narrowed in disgust. "She's just about as arrogant as the rest of you rock star types, if not more so."

Parker shrugged and yanked the door handle. "Sorry about your luck. Guess you'll have to go hang out with the rest of the vultures."

She lifted a brow and took a step forward, alarming him for a second. What if she had a gun tucked in the deep pockets of that coat? "Sure and why don't you go hang out with the rest of the sloppy drunk, guitar-playing, brainless monkeys?"

He drew back, stunned, and could only blink stupidly at her. "Brainless monkeys?"

She gave him a salute as she started to walk backwards. "Hey, you want to stereotype, buddy – I'm just playing the game. Thanks ever so much for your time."

She turned around and headed toward the hospital entrance, a slight bounce in her step. She was humming fairly loud and, although he wasn't quite sure, he thought she was humming a … Hanson tune?

He shook his head, dismissing the strange confrontation from his mind, and got in his car. He started the engine, locked the doors, and gave the car a second to warm up as he flipped through the radio stations. He was glad that Avery and the baby would be released from the hospital in the morning so he could visit them at home if he so chose. He hated hospitals to begin with and the horde of vultures surrounding the doors wore on his nerves.

He rubbed his forehead in hopes of staving off another headache – this one induced by the women in his life and not the usual sinus problems. Deidre had taken to calling him again just as he'd finally managed to move past her and start playing the field. He'd even talked Lindsey Preston into accompanying him to studio functions on a few occasions. That had taken a lot of guts as he hadn't been sure if Ryan had actually had a thing for her before Avery or not. But he'd dismissed all his worries on the night of the first occasion when Ryan couldn't keep his eyes off his very pregnant but still very pretty wife. The boy was turning into a lovesick fool.

As he put his car into gear, he glanced at the group of reporters huddled near the hospital doors and grinned. "Drunken, guitar-playing monkeys! Now that's hilarious."

Logan Rogers stormed into the apartment and ripped the yellow beanie from her head, slinging it in the direction of the coat closet. A tall, reedy girl with a mop of strawberry blonde hair wandered into the cluttered living room, a bowl of steaming Ramen noodles in her hands.

"Hard day, love?" she asked, her brow quirked.

"Not really," Logan admitted. "Just the same old, same old."

"Do you know what you need?" the girl asked.

"Yes," Logan said with a wry smile. "I need Blackhawks season tickets that include all I can eat chicken wings and all I can drink beer, a date with a cute hockey player, a hot bath, and a new pair of Converse – preferably purple."

The blonde rolled her eyes as she folded her long legs gracefully onto a frumpy chair. "I was going to suggest something along the lines of a new job, but I guess you know what you need better than I do."

"You're so right, Amy my friend," Logan said as she hung her winter coat on the knob of the coat closet. "Any more of those noodles left?"

"Yep and plenty of soup," Amy said. "Get it while it's hot."

"Wonderful," Logan said as she strolled into the kitchen and fetched a bowl from the cupboard. She poured the remainder of the 'soup' into her bowl, added a fistful of crushed crackers, and stirred it all together. She returned to the living room and plopped on a lumpy sofa. "So, how was your day?"

Amy shrugged, her eyes glued to the talk show host pacing slowly in front of her audience, pleading the case of some downtrodden woman on stage. "Oh, class was a drag, Mark asked me out, and Val and Trista are arguing again."

"Mark asked you out again, eh?" Logan asked and Amy nodded absently. "Did you break the poor man's heart?"

Amy rolled her eyes and sighed as she set her bowl on the scratched up coffee table in front of her. "Yes, I turned him down, if that's what you're asking. While Mark is a sweetheart, he just doesn't do it for me. I'd like a real man – you know, with a six pack, not the two liter Mark tries to show off."

"Ah, maybe, but it's extremely important that we keep Marky nice and happy," Logan said as she spooned the last of her soup into her mouth. "My health and well-being depend upon Mark's happiness."

"That's a bit of a stretch, don't you think?" Amy asked as she pulled a throw blanket off the back of the chair and draped it around her shoulders.

"Mark has fabulous connections and that Black Records showcase is coming up right quick. I need a ticket or else my editor will have a coronary," Logan said.

"A ticket into the door isn't going to get you backstage, you know," Amy reminded her.

"Of course I know that," Logan replied, her brown eyes glittering like an evil genius about to reveal his master plan. "All I need is to get in the door – the rest is no problemo. I can get backstage in a flash."

Amy groaned and sank further into the chair. "Logan, you utterly distress me. I just know one of these days some official in a uniform is going to knock on that door and say that I need to pick my roommate up either from jail or the morgue."

Logan cackled manically as she rose from her chair and scooped up her roommate's empty bowl, stacking it on top of her own. "Oh, who cares, huh? As long as I get my story!"

She skipped out of the room, toward the kitchen, humming random tunes under her breath. Once she rinsed the dishes, she popped back into the living room and snatched the remote from the coffee table. "You don't mind if I change this, do you?"

"Yes, I do mind," Amy said. "You've some nerve, woman."

Logan laughed as she was reminded of her earlier confrontation. "Do you think I have nads of steel?"

Amy frowned at her, her brow dipping deeply over her eyes. "Nads? Do you mean….testicles?"

"Yes," Logan said, giggling. "Nads! Testicles, balls, nuts, grapes, the sack – whatever the hell you want to call the nasty little things. The question is, do you think I have nads of steel?"

"Honey, I don't think you even have … nads and if you do, maybe we should rethink the whole roommate situation," Amy replied.

Logan fell back onto the sofa and snorted with laughter. "Someone accused me of having nads of steel today. It was so funny!"

"Who?" Amy asked.

Logan sat up and grinned. "Parker Milten. He said I must have nads of steel for asking him if he wanted to go grab a cup of coffee." She rolled her eyes. "I need a new line or something because he knew instantly that I was going to try to wheedle info on the 'cutest couple's' newest addition out of him."

"Well, duh," Amy said matter-of-factly. "You were hanging out at the hospital."

"It doesn't matter," Logan sighed as she flopped back on the couch. "He won't ever help me now. I called him a sloppy drunk, guitar-playing, brainless monkey, or something to that effect."

Amy groaned and pulled the throw blanket over her face. "Logan…"

"He started it. He called me a vulture. All's fair in love and war, darling," Logan said as she sprang to her feet and yanked the blanket off of Amy's face. "I have to do some research. Are we doing anything later?"

"Val and Trista want us to check out a club with them," Amy said.

"I thought they were arguing?" Logan said, pausing in the kitchen doorway.

"They were arguing over which club we should check out," Amy said. "Val wants to go party and have fun but Trista wants to find a husband. You know how the two of them are."

Logan shrugged and checked the tacky Clydesdale clock hanging on the wall. "Fine, whatever. I have to finish up a paper and do a little research then I'll shower and get ready." She spun on her heel to head to her room then stopped. "Oh, and if Mark calls, be nice to him!" She tossed a smile over her shoulder to Amy and skipped to her room, singing the chorus of "MmmBop" from the top of her lungs.

A/N: Well, here's the start of Parker's story that I couldn't wait until later to post. I'm hoping to keep it upbeat and a little more fluffy than usual but there will be bits of drama sprinkled in just for taste. Also, the summary may change as the focus of the story might not revolve around this 'secret'. But I hate summaries almost as much as I hate epilogues. I'm pumped for this new story because I love the female lead so far - I think she's going to be quirky and I don't think I've done one like that yet. Expect another update soon.

Thanks a bunch!