“It can’t be in a public place,” Bree says. “We’ll be swarmed now.”
He hesitates, giving her a compassionate smile. “I know. Don’t worry. I have the perfect place.”
She looks at me for confirmation, so I give her a nod, glad to see her body relax fractionally. When her attention shifts to the blueberry-lemon pancakes on her plate, she smiles. “These look great. Thanks Nancy.”
“Of course, honey. Now eat up.”
Olive picks at her food, her attention mostly on her phone and whoever she’s texting, but the other two practically clean their plates. Zoey tells me about her fiancé, whom I’ve only seen on their show a handful of times. He seems to be always working.
“Do you work with him?” I ask.
“In a sense, yes. But not really. We’re a partnership and a representation of both of our brands. To collaborate between our companies in a show of professional marriage, I’ve been working on a line of luxury dog beds and collars.”
“She’s going to use Peanut as one of her models,” Bree says proudly. “Or that was the plan.”
“Still is. We’re about to get our first shipment of prototypes, so we’ll get with Lonn—” Zoey coughs, correcting herself. “Iguess we’ll connect with your new assistant to set that up. Whodidyou hire to replace him?”
Bree pushes her last bite of pancake around her plate. “No one, yet.”
It’s silent for a minute before Bree gathers the breakfast plates to take into the kitchen. I follow her, removing them from her hand and bumping her gently out of the way. “I’ll wash these while you finish getting ready. Colby wants to get started soon.”
She leans against me, looking up and smiling. She’s in the makeup style the entire country is used to seeing her in, red lips and everything. They didn’t even smudge when she ate—the woman is a pro.
“My lips are fascinating, aren’t they?” she quips.
“I was thinking about how perfect your lipstick still is.”
“It’s a stain. I’m not superhuman.” She runs her hand down my chest. “I’ll be right back.”
The chills pebble my skin, and I can’t help inhaling her scent as she walks away. How am I supposed to focus on the music at all when she’s distracting me like this?
When the dishes are finished, we load Colby’s equipment in the Bronco and lay a clean blanket in the bed of the trunk.
Olive stands at the tailgate, scowling. “There’s no other way to make this happen?”
“Nope.” Is it just me, or did Colby sound smug when he answered her? I understand that he was skeptical around Bree at first, but there was a reason for that. He had been under the false illusion that she’d broken my heart and might do it again.
What’s his beef with Olive?
I give him a look, but he ignores me.
“Climb in, ladies,” Colby says. “Grandma, you get the front seat. Benny, you should probably be in the back.”
I agree with him, but still.
Watching Olive and Zoey Belacourt climb into the trunk ofa dusty old truck and lie down was not on my bingo card for today. Bree joins us, and my breath catches. She’s wearing a long, flowy white dress, which is not her typical thing, and her hair is down and wavy. She looks ethereal, which is perfect for our destination, and she doesn’t even know where we’re going.
“You had that packed?” I ask.
“Zoey brought it.” Bree adjusts one of the straps. “I brought a few other outfit changes, but with the wind, I thought this would give me good coverage and flow prettily.”
“You definitely look pretty.”
She glances up, handing me her bag. “Thanks.”
After Bree climbs in, I hand the women a blanket to pull over them, then push Bree’s bag in by Zoey’s feet and squeeze in the last remaining spot. Colby closes the door behind us while I settle in next to Bree, her entire body pressing against my side.
“The things we do for you, B,” Olive says, her voice disembodied in the dark.
