“Good. See you’ve met my son.”
“Yes.” She kept her smile in place. “Thanks again for the invitation.” She held up the food containers. “I’ll just set these on the table.” She did, realizing it was already set except for plates, which were stacked on the counter by a hot pad. “Need help with anything?”
“Nope.” Brick shook his head. “No Beau?”
“Was I supposed to bring him?”
“Who’s Beau?” Holland asked, looking oddly suspicious.
“My dog,” Blaise answered. “He loves your dad.”
Holland’s eyes narrowed but he said nothing else. He really was his father’s son.
“You could have brought him,” Brick said.
“Next time,” Blaise said, although she hoped next time was just the two of them. So far, Holland hadn’t exactly made her feel welcome. She reminded herself that she was here to prove that Brick had made at least one friend in the community.
Maybe Holland didn’t like that his father’s new friend was female.
Brick put on oven mitts and opened the oven. He took out a broiler pan with six fat, orange-glazed pork chops and set it on the hot pad. “We’re ready.”
“Looks good.” It had to be her nerves, but Blaise’s appetite had virtually disappeared. She’d make herself eat. She didn’t want it to seem like she didn’t like the food. It smelled great. But Holland was watching her like she was a criminal.
What did he think she was going to do?
Brick put a pork chop on each plate, carrying the first two over to the table, then returning with his own. Water glasses had been filled with ice and water. Blaise waited for Holland to move toward a chair, then chose the one to his left.
No matter where she sat, she’d have him on one side of her and Brick on the other. Maybe she should have brought Beau so she wouldn’t feel so outnumbered.
Beside her pan of brownies and bowl of roasted vegetables, there was a butter dish, and a basket of bread, covered with a kitchen towel. She took the foil off the vegetables and set it aside, glad she’d tucked a serving spoon in the bowl. She helped herself, wondering if either of the men would eat any. Brick went straight for the bread, taking a slice, then offering the basket to her.
The bread was warm and smelled good. She selected a small piece, then passed the basket to Holland. He took a slice and set the basket down. Brick had the butter and handed that to her next.
She sliced off a pat and passed the dish along to Holland as well. She was pleased to see Brick took a spoonful of vegetables.
With his knife in hand, Holland slathered butter on his bread and finally broke the silence. “My dad said you were a famous model.”
“I was a model,” she confirmed, not loving his skeptical tone. “And somewhat well-known in the ’80s and ’90s.”
He snorted. “Somewhat well-known? Dad, you said she was famous.”
Brick shifted his gaze to his son. “She was.” He nodded at Blaise. “Tell him.”
There was one thing that usually worked with men like Holland, one particular media outlet that would give her some prestige in his eyes—or at least add weight to her claims. She rarely mentioned it otherwise but now seemed like the time. “I was on the cover of theSports IllustratedSwimsuit Editiontwice.”
Holland’s brows lifted and he seemed to be staring at her with new eyes.
“My hair was red then.”
His lips parted. “Gold sequin bikini.”
She nodded and went back to eating, knowing very well the image he was seeing in his head. She’d signed so many of those covers, all for men who saw her as nothing more than an object. It had done wonders for her career, but it had also changed her life in a way she hadn’t anticipated.
“You really were famous.”
Brick grunted. “Told you.”
She pierced a roasted chunk of zucchini, trying to think of a question she could ask that would take the conversation in a new direction. Away from her.
