Makeup, sundresses, tank tops, shorts, flip-flops, and bikinis littered Brinton’s bed. A “Southern-girl starter pack,” as Sammi had coined it.
As Brinton fastened her gold hoops, the chime of an incoming FaceTime rang out, forcing her to dive into a heap of lacy thong underwear that she absolutely did not buy with Jamie in mind.
Brinton thumbed the green button and extended her arm so her body filled the frame.
“Do I look ready to line dance on a Friday night or nah?” she asked.
Poised atop their mom’s gray quartz kitchen island, Shay shrieked. “Damn, girl. Zoom in—I wanna see everything. Wait, are those cowboy boots? My sister’s in her Yeehaw Era.”
Brinton rolled her eyes. “So, what I’m gathering is, I normally look busted?”
“Not busted,” Shay volunteered. “The whole sad-chick uniform is your thing. But, bitch, you slicked your edges. And that cat-eye is a slay.”
Brinton feigned offense, but she was proud as hell. She’d watched fifteen tutorials and nearly lost an eye before sharply carving the line just right.
Propping her phone on the white-washed wood dresser, Brinton smoothed a gold-flecked, tonka bean body oil on her legs.
“I guess I’m in the mood to try something new. Living while the breath’s in my body.”
“Amen, sis. Now, all you need is some toe-curling sex with a small-town country boy.”
“Ha. Well, that’s not going to happen.”
Even if Brinton considered the possibility with each passing day, that was a colossal step. She hadn’t slept with anyone since Eli. Even though Jamie absolutely spiked her desire, she had little confidence that she wouldn’t disappoint a man like him, especially when it came to sex. There were simply too many moving parts, and too much that could go wrong.
“But he’s so different from what I thought,” Brinton admitted instead. “He’s kind and thoughtful, sometimes to a fault. And patient. And he makes me want to try new things. Shay, he had me up on a mountain.”
“Wilderness quickies are the best,” Shay mused, waggling her machete-sharp eyebrows.
Brinton chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint you, but there were no quickies. Though, being here, I haven’t been afraid to…exhale. I know it’s corny, but he makes me feel like that’s okay.”
“Are you kidding me? Not trying to judge?—”
“That sounds like judging?—”
“But there’s a perfectly good, caring man at your disposal. You have a chance to let him fold you in half and you’re wasting it? Make it make sense,” Shay said, clapping her hands so they punctuated each syllable.
“In case it slipped your lizard brain, he and I are working together. Sort of.”
Right, there was that whole nagging ethical conundrum.
Shay guffawed. “Chile, F that job. Hasn’t Rich swapped fluids with, like, half of the cast ofVanderpump Rules? And how many times has Agatha bragged about being in Kanye’s DMs? Like it’s a flex.”
Brinton brushed through her thick eyebrows, which refused to act or arch right.
“They play by different rules, and you know that.”
“And it’s bullshit,” Shay countered. “All the reason to enjoy yourself tonight. Better yet, let Jamie enjoyyou.Deny it all you want, but Ray Charles could see that man is into you.”
Like clockwork, Athena’s head popped behind Shay. “If you’re both single, carpe diem.”
“Mom—” Brinton and Shay barked in unison.
“Well, Shayla, if you don’t want me to hear your conversation, you have your own apartment.”
“Yes, but you have all the good snacks,” Shay said, snapping into an edamame chip.
Athena moved closer to the camera, and her expression hardened. “I have to ask this. Are those white people outthere treating you right? Do I need to get on a plane tonight?”
