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“She will keep all the secrets we have to give her,” Lark assured Dove.
Rain took an interest in what was happening and joined them, dragging over the chair that Dove had abandoned and draping herself on it. “How much do we need to worry about? Are we going to get out of the driveway and be attacked? Or do you think someone will chase us out of East Canon all the way to the interstate?”
Dove watched Brighton closely, but the woman’s brows didn’t shoot upward and her expression remained the same. Of course, she might have plenty of Botox to keep her face from moving, but Dove didn’t think so.
Seeing that she really didn’t seem to care about this conversation, Dove answered Rain’s questions.
“I’m not a hundred percent certain of the plan right now, but Quaide mentioned us slipping out at night.”
“What good is it to match each other’s appearance, then?” Rain wound a thick lock of hair around her index finger.
“We don’t want to be seen, but if we are, hopefully this will confuse people.”
“I understand. And the chance of being chased?”
“Not high,” she told Rain.
Her sister looked to Lark. “What do you think, Lark?”
“Have youseenthose men downstairs? No one is messing with them.” Lark’s response made Brighton nod and Dove smile.
Part of that team belonged to her. Quaide washerman. He was smart, hotandskilled. All three left Dove wishing he would come in and sweep her off her feet and carry her away to a private spot. The study might be in a state of total wreckage, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t stolen some pleasure for themselves.
Little by little, Brighton changed Lark’s appearance by using tricks of the brush. By creating shadows and highlights, she made her eyes the same shape as Rain and Dove’s. She sculpted her nose using bronzer to give the illusion it was a bit thinner at the bridge. Then she outlined her lips to a fuller pout that resembled Rain’s.
“Wow, that’s amazing.” Rain came closer to examine her work.
“Thanks,” Brighton responded.
Rain stroked her fingers over the blonde wig that was laid out in a box lined with velvet. “Wow, this color is really close to my shade.”
“Brighton’s amazing at color-matching. One time in high school, she even matched my shade to use on her own hair.”
Brighton chuckled. “Everyone at school called me Single White Female for the longest time after that.”
“I knew better. You just always wanted to be a redhead. I mean, who wouldn’t?” She touched a finger to a springy curl that hung by her ear. It bounced.
Dove felt her lips stretch into a smile. This moment might be a pivot point for what would happen next, but she had new friends to share it with. New friends who actually cared about how this plan turned out.
“Will the hair on the wig be too long?” Rain slipped the silky strands over her splayed fingers.
“We’ll cut it to match your length,” Brighton told her absently as she filled in Lark’s already full lips into a bigger pout.
Rain swung her head to look at Dove. “I assume you’re cutting Dove’s too.”
She whipped a hand up to her sensible ponytail. “I actually like my hair.”
Rain, Lark and Brighton all gave her a rueful look.
“Crap,” she muttered, realizing there was no use in fighting. After all, she’d made the plan in the first place.
“Don’t worry, Dovey. It will grow long again,” Rain said.
“I’m not the only one who likes it.” She pushed out a sigh and plowed on. “It’s the first thing Quaide ever complimented me on.”
Rain opened her eyes wide. “Oh. He actually likes the ponytail?”
“Cut it out, Rain. I didn’t only wear a ponytail to the office. One day, he walked in, stopped by my desk and just stared at me for so long that I thought I’d made some error in the report I sent. Then he said, ‘Your hair looks nice today,’ in a really gruff voice.”
