Page 153 of Midnight Curfew

She races out of the room, and I look around for my shirt, but then I remember that I didn’t put one on this morning.

Leaving the gym, I charge down the hallway and find Krisjen in the foyer. She stands in front of a painting, purse slung over her shoulder with her arms crossed over her chest.

I let my gaze scale down her body. Dallas must love having some eye candy under the roof all the time. Tanned, toned legs in black shorts and flip-flops and an oversize linen blouse. Beach hair with streaks of blond from the summer sun. When she dated Milo, we all saw one another every day. Parties, laughter…

Now she gets to see Dallas every day.

I stop within a few feet of her. “How much sugar do you all eat for breakfast over there?” I gripe.

Krisjen turns, lifting her brow.

I gesture up the stairs. “She’s bouncing off the walls.”

Krisjen holds up her hands in defense. “Just waffles.”

I cock my head. Yeah, right.

“With some toppings,” she adds under her breath.

I shake my head. Maybe that’s what they feed their kids, but Sophia gets two proteins, one fruit, and one grain. It would serve Krisjen right to have to deal with her sugar rush for the rest of the day.

We stare at each other, and it occurs to me how different she looks.

Pretty. She was always good-looking, but I don’t know…She’s stunning. Happy.

Drawing in a long breath, I straighten my spine, calming. “I’m surprised your husband let you come here alone,” I point out.

She offers a tight smile but keeps her arms folded over her chest.

“He didn’t,” she says. “Clay’s in the car.”

She is?

Moving to the window, I peel back the curtain. The girl who was almost my girlfriend senior year sits in the driver’s seat of her 1972 baby blue Bronco convertible. She had that in high school.

I falter, realizing that she’s out there because she didn’t want to come in.

And Olivia Jaeger is going with them, Sophia said?

But she’s not in the car.

My mind drifts back to a few days ago at Fox Hill Country Club. I showed her I was still a prick. Looks like she got the message.

I square my shoulders. Good.

Letting the curtain fall closed, I spin around. “What is Sophia talking about?” I ask Krisjen. “Shopping?”

Most of her clothes are tailor-made. It’s not like knickers and suspenders in her size are stocked in most stores.

But Krisjen replies, “To the paint store. We’ve been renovating the lighthouse, and we thought she might like to help us pick out some colors. Maybe get some lunch with the girls.”

“Why?” I stroll into the middle of the foyer, my back to the stairs as I face her. But I don’t wait for an answer. “You’re trying to assimilate her. Which one of them wants her?”

Krisjen’s eyes widen, the bitch looking almost amused, but I’m not stupid. It’s how they operate.

“Who is it?” I press. “Trace?”

Sophia said he smiled at her.