“Where’s Jason?” she asked. She was depending on his ability to distract her parents and ensure that this meeting went as planned.
“He had a meeting in Santa Fe that he couldn’t cancel,” her father informed her rather stiltedly. “You didn’t wait around earlier to find out that he couldn’t be here for this one.”
Of course that was the reason why, she thought silently as she inhaled slowly, her gaze slipping to her mother. Because she hadn’t waited around for the full brunt of the guilt trip, it was her fault she didn’t know everything.
Greta glanced at the bag Gypsy carried for a second before turning her gaze to her disapprovingly. “This is just a friendly visit, Gypsy. Not an official meeting.”
“I worked up a few ideas while waiting on Connie.” She shrugged, thinking of the horrendously boring hours in Connie’s salon, stuck in the VIP room alone while waiting for the chemicals on her hair to do their job. She’d missed her appointment, but Connie had worked her in anyway. Gypsy had wished she would have just told her to go to hell so she could escape the torturous hours alone. Connie and her assistants had done their job excellently, though. Her deep, dark brown hair now had the faintest streaks of sun-lightened browns and tawny blond peeking out.
“That wasn’t necessary, dear,” her mother murmured, as though Gypsy were some wet-behind-the-ears new consultant. “I’m sure Mr. Wyatt will let us know when he’s ready for ideas. He’s not a man who likes to be pushed, you know.”
“Understood.” She nodded, despite her confusion.
Since when did her mother protest being prepared? Since when did her mother profess to be an expert on how Jonas conducted business?
Because Gypsy knew damned good and well the Breed highly respected initiative. They’d had several discussions on that subject and several others the few times she’d visited Rachel.
Dressed in a sleeveless beige top and a soft, casual cream chiffon skirt, her mother looked relaxed and comfortable, so Gypsy let her keep her illusions. Her father wore his customary jeans with a white button-up, just as he would have if he were joining friends for dinner at the local café.
Neither of them wore any of their more business-related clothing, which was surprising considering their nervousness over this contract.
“Gypsy.” Her mother stopped her as they neared the lobby entrance of the hotel.
Turning back to her, Gypsy saw the genuine concern building in the dusky features.
“Yes, Mother?” Damn, her mother was nervous. Gypsy didn’t work directly with her parents very often, and only took the smaller contracts when her help was needed, but still, she would have thought she’d have seen this side of Greta McQuade before now.
“Please, be polite,” her mother asked warningly, her green eyes shadowed, a bit harder than normal.
Be polite?
“Mother, when am I ever impolite to a client?” she asked, confused by this new worry her mother seemed to have gotten into her head.
“Anytime anyone, anywhere gives you the impression that you have to do something,” her mother stated in disapproval. “Don’t embarrass us, Gypsy.”
Was her personal life now tied to the clients she helped her parents with?
“Greta, now isn’t the time,” her father murmured, casting Gypsy a faintly regretful look.
Don’t embarrass them? Had they not wanted her help on this contract?
Her lips parted to ask what the hell they were talking about.
“Mr. and Mrs. McQuade. Gypsy, sweetie, it’s about time you came back to see us.” It wasn’t a Breed who stepped from the lobby to greet them, but Thor Thorsson, a rumored ex-mercenary turned Bureau Enforcer who worked with Rule’s brother’s fiancée, Diane Broen. Diane also happened to be Jonas Wyatt’s fiancée’s sister.
But to her, he was just Thor, the big, strapping Viking look-alike who had taken one look at her two months before, grinned and said, “Hey, just what I’ve been looking for, a little elf to torment. Can I adopt you?” Then he’d pulled the braid at the back of her hair.
She’d informed him icily that she did not need anyone to take her brother’s place.
Forlorn, his pale blue eyes had turned somber, “I wasn’t asking if you needed a brother. I was trying to tell you I needed a baby sister.”
Long, thick white-blond hair was brushed back from his face, his imposing features creased into a smile as his eyes met hers now while giving her a subtle little wink. A second later he bent, his arms going around her in a brief, firm hug before he drew back.
Sometimes, she was really afraid Thor knew far more about her than she was comfortable with him knowing.
“Hello, Thor.” Gypsy smiled up at him, genuinely glad to see him. “I see you’re recovering nicely from your accident.”
The story that he’d been injured in an accident in the desert was bullshit. He’d taken a knife in the shoulder that had been meant for his heart two months before.