“We’ll pass along the text message and change up the itinerary. Dean will look into the phone number and check the security footage.”
“Wait a minute.” Abigail paused with her drink in hand. “I want to see the picture.”
“No.” Jules blushed. “It’s a stupid picture taken without my knowing.”
“Almost all your pictures are. I want to see.”
Jules shoved another shrimp into her mouth. “No.”
Her brow knitted. “Where were you? What were you doing? Is Operation Kiss and Cuddle in effect already?”
His cheeks warmed. What was with everyone trying to name Sloane’s public relations stunt?
Jules’s mouth hung open. “We’re not naming—”
“Operation Smooch and Smile? Kisses and—” Abigail dissolved into giggles. “What’s anotherKword? Karma. Klingon. Kismet?Kismet.”
Jules erupted into laughter. “Stop.”
His lips twitched.
“Rhys laughed.” Abigail pointed at him. “I saw it. Mr. Serious cracked a smile.”
He wasn’t always serious. Jules snorted and slapped her hands over her mouth. His shoulders trembled with silent laughter. Okay. He wasn’t a robot. He could smile. He’d agreed to one of Sloane’s insane stunts. They’d passed the point of absurdity.
“I want to see the picture,” Abigail tried again.
“Fine.” Jules swiped her phone open, flashed the screen up, and tossed it onto the table again. “Happy?”
“That’s so stinking cute. Forget who sent it to you. It’s a great picture. You have to own it. Take it and make it yours.”
“Not a chance.”
The waitstaff swept away their appetizers and topped off their water glasses. Fresh cocktails from the bar arrived for the ladies. Rhys stuck with his mango-pineapple drink.
“You know what would be really fun—and evil?” Abigail pushed her fish around her plate without eating. “But really fun?”
“The way your mind works, there’s no telling,” Jules said.
“What if you soft launch your new relationship with that picture? No faces. Just the handhold. No comment. Or maybe something like ‘Mine? Maybe.’ Or something more obvious—”
“No. Sloane has a plan.”
Abigail waved away her protest. “Sloane would eat this up. Come on, Jules. What do we post?”
“We don’t post it.”
“But if we did,” Abigail prompted. “Ten out of ten. Would recommend this guy.” She pursed her lips. “No, not soft enough. It has to be something vaguer. Rhys? Ideas?”
“I’m not helping.”
“Brother, you are the most helpful part of this whole debacle. Weigh in already. It’s your launch we’re soft launching.”
“He’s not a rocket,” Jules said.
“Didn’t hate the company,” he offered, having absolutely zero idea why he’d opened his mouth. He didn’t do social media. He didn’t have witty one-liners to pair with that picture. Though he liked the idea of taking the picture and making it her own. Any number of profilers and psychologists would probably say not to bait the guy who obsessed over Jules enough to fly here, but Rhys wanted to kick the hornet’s nest and drive the guy out. If he made a bigger mistake, they could find him more quickly and end the mystery.
Abigail’s eyes widened. “Let me see the picture again.”
