from this babysitting job.”
He smiled again, a content kind of smile, particular to his feelings for Claire. Peyton wouldn’t have bet on that opposites-attract relationship, but her brother had fallen hard. Proof that dreams can come true, though, given Claire’s long-standing crush on him.
“You’ll be back for the engagement party, right?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t miss it.” These days Peyton was grateful for every breath she drew and every celebration she could share with any of the people she loved, including some of her mom’s tedious parties. “I’ll be back a week ahead.”
He winked. “I’m relieved things with you and Claire are getting better.”
Peyton nodded, although her insides still recoiled at the memory of how she’d betrayed her childhood friend. “She still doesn’t confide in me, but things are comfortable now rather than merely polite.”
“I’m just glad not to be caught in the middle of two women I love anymore.” Logan then craned his neck in the direction of their father’s crystal carafe of bourbon. “Shall we break into Dad’s stash and toast to our success?”
She welcomed a change of subject. “Sure.”
“No reason to wait for Mom and Dad, right?” He pushed himself out of the chair and poured the amber liquid two fingers deep into two glasses before handing one tumbler to her.
“Nope.” Their mother had not been supportive of the project, having considered it airing “dirty laundry” to the world. Never mind the philanthropic mission or the fact that Peyton and Logan had put in excruciating hours of work. She doubted her mom even had bothered to read the advance copy.
Logan stared at Duck’s Pulitzer and then looked back at her while raising his glass. “To keeping the Prescott lit rep alive. Cheers.”
The liquid burned its way down her throat. She rarely drank alcohol anymore, so its effect grabbed hold of her quickly, loosening her muscles one by one until her limbs felt soft and heavy and her mood pleasantly fuzzy. Then her phone pinged. She glanced at the text. Mitch.
Checking in. Any last-minute questions or problems?
“My taskmaster.” She chuckled, holding up the phone to show her brother.
He patted her shoulder. “I’ll let you deal with that. Need to get back to Claire for dinner.” He finished his drink and stood. “Can I take a few copies?”
“Of course. They’re half yours.” She certainly didn’t need twenty-four copies of that image staring at her, nor was she in any hurry to distribute them to anyone she knew.
It wasn’t a lack of pride that stopped her. She’d worked her ass off on the book. Bled onto those pages. It was good work and she knew it. If she didn’t have to promote it, she’d be much happier, though. And the thought of friends and neighbors and strangers picking over her vulnerabilities made her want to vomit. This venture would have to raise a ton of money to make up for what she’d exposed.
Logan smiled and snagged five books. “If you want to meet me for lunch tomorrow before you head down to the airport, shoot me a text.” Before breezing out of the office, he kissed her head. “Love you. Good luck.”
“Bye.” She waited until he left and then set her book on the desk and sighed. Looking at her phone screen, she pictured Mitchell’s intense gaze and imagined him tapping his foot impatiently while awaiting her response. That made her smile.
Cancer had changed a lot about her, but apparently it hadn’t killed the part that had always enjoyed keeping a man on the edge of his seat. After counting to ten “just because,” she replied.
All set here. Not to brag, but I’ve been known to be a pretty good traveler. No need for hand-holding. :-)
Not that, in another lifetime, she wouldn’t enjoy holding his hand.
She caught her lower lip between her teeth while waiting for the little dots to start dancing on the screen. They lit up almost immediately. Confirmation of his workaholic status. She grinned. Would he get the reference to her former career? Might he respond with something clever this time?
Thanks for the reminder. Always enjoy working with a pro. See you tomorrow.
She frowned, doubting he intended any kind of double entendre with that “pro” remark. Just as well. She really could not abide falling in lust with her publicist.
That said, there was no reason not to dig into her old wardrobe and ditch the Birkenstocks for a couple of weeks. Maybe this trip to Europe was exactly what she needed now. A return to her natural habitat.