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“Fickle thing,” I muttered.
Instead of following me into the house, she retook her position on the step. Knowing she’d use the cat flap if she changed her mind about entering, I closed the door. Muffled female voices and the faint scenes of grilled meat, hot spices, and warm rice laced the air, making me smile. Alicia was a wickedly good cook.
Pausing at the hallway tidy, I hung up my purse and jacket and then placed my shoes in one of the cubbies there. I then followed the chatter and stomach-rumbling scents as I padded along the light-pine hardwood floor, making my way through the living room.
The large space was bright due to the white walls and the amount of natural light beaming through the high windows. Pale-lemon cushions adorned the cream upholstered sofa and two matching armchairs. The bouquet of peonies and roses in the center of the round, glass coffeehouse were the same yellow shade as the cushions.
The wall-mounted, widescreen TV was positioned far above the white fire mantel. The industrial ceiling light fixtures perfectly matched the floor lamp and hanging clock.
As I walked into the kitchen, the wall paint became a light gray. Every cabinet was white gloss, and every appliance was stainless steel. The countertops were a shiny, off-white marble. The exposed ceiling beams were the same light-pine as the flooring.
Alicia stood at the large range cooker nattering away to Harri, who sat at the island sipping wine.
While both Oliver—or Ollie, as we mostly called him—and I had inherited physical traits from our father’s side of the family, Harri was almost a carbon copy of our mom. Seriously, she looked so much like Vienna with her pale-blue eyes, oval face, high cheekbones, platinum-blonde hair, and full mouth it was honestlyuncanny.
Alicia was somewhere in the middle. She had Dane’s tall stature and long legs but Vienna’s eyes and facial shape. Though her hair was blonde, it was a gorgeous honey shade with hints of strawberry. She also had flawless skin, which she mostly accredited to yoga.
I called out quick hellos and then said, “Damn, Alicia, whatever you’re making smells good.”
She smiled, pleased. “It’ll be ready in about twenty minutes, so—” She cut off as the phone on the counter chimed once. Rather than reach for it, she merely tossed it a scowl.
All right.
Crossing to Harri, I gave her a quick hug and then studied her face closely. “How are you doing?” Her dog had died recently, and the loss had eviscerated her.
Her lips weakly curled. “Better. It’s kind of hard not to think about Gus when I’m surrounded by dogs five times a week.” Harri ran a doggy day care center from her home not far from Oakengrove. She also offered other services, such as grooming and pet photography.
“Maybe you should take a small break and have your staff run it for a couple of weeks,” I suggested. “You could stay here with us, or with Mom and Dad.”
“I’ll be fine,” she assured me.
Grabbing a glass from a cupboard, I flicked a brief look at Alicia as I asked Harri, “Did she rope you into doing a yoga session with her?”
“She gave it her best shot,” replied Harri.
Alicia huffed at us. “I don’t know what you two have against yoga.”
“I have not one thing against it,” I told her, setting my glass down on the counter. “I’m just not as camera-genic as you.”
Harri gave her a faint smile. “Yeah, same.”
Alicia only sniffed. She and her ex used to post “yoga couple video sessions” online—they’d had quite a following. Since leaving Dario, she’d set up a separate online channel where she now posted videos of herself doing yoga sessions, and she occasionally included a “guest appearance.” She had a shit-ton of subscribers already.
“How’s work going?” Harri asked me.
I pulled the opened bottle of wine out of the fridge. “Fine. Got a prospective new client.”
Alicia’s brow pinched. “You don’t look too pleased about it.”
“I’m always pleased to have new clients, but …” Trailing off, I sighed. “It’s Dax. Dax Mercier.”
Harri’s brows hiked up. “Oh.”
“Yeah, that was what I said when I first saw his email,” I muttered, letting wine slosh into my glass.
Alicia hummed. “Nothing like an old flame getting in touch to throw you off your game.”
Oldbed-buddyflame, to be more exact, but … “That was exactly what it did. I wasn’t expecting it.”
