Lexi wiped her face on the hem of her tank top and gave a little sniffle. When she could take in air without pain shooting through her chest, she leaned over the sill and looked down at Abby, who was on the alley floor. “Where are we going?”
“The lake.” Abby held up a familiar set of keys. “Now hurry up before Pricilla figures out that I stole her car.”
Lexi stumbled to the bathroom and, avoiding a peek in the mirror for fear that she would never leave the house again, brushed her teeth. She was about to leave when she stopped to smell her shirt. Vat was putting it mildly.
Grimacing, she shucked the tear-and-snot-stained tank and headed back to the bedroom, grabbing the towels.
“Why don’t you go out the front door?” Abby suggested when Lexi stuck her legs out the window and nearly tumbled down the ladder.
“This is more fun,” she hollered back, tossing the towels to the ground, hoping they landed on Abby’s head while silently counting each rung of the ladder as she descended.
“Um, Lex?”
“Don’t talk to me. I’m counting!”
“Yeah, well, you might want to count your way back up to your room and get some clothes on.”
Lexi got to the bottom rung, number fifteen to be exact, and hopped off. “No way. Last time we did this I played it half-assed and look where that got me. Married”—she counted off each infringement on her fingers—“divorced, in debt, jobless, and with a broken heart, courtesy of my fake boyfriend.”
The last infringement counted for five on its own, which brought her loser grand total to a whopping 90 percent.
Abby gave her a long look and cracked a smile. “Well, you don’t have to worry about half-assing it this time, because I can see your whole ass.”
CHAPTER 18
Marc stood at the back of the ballroom, watching people mingle and chat and fill out checks big enough to pay for a year of medical and educational needs for the entire town. From the way the mayor kept grinning and pumping the hands of the guests, Marc knew that even though the night was only half over, they had already reached their mark. Just like he knew that he should be out there welcoming his guests, drumming up support for next year’s event—doing his job.
But the only thing he could do was think about Lexi.
He knew she was there. Her first course had been served, and devoured, and now the waiters were bringing out the entrées. But Lexi hadn’t come out of the kitchen. And Marc, not wanting to make this night any harder on her, had kept his distance.
The summer his parents died, Abby had locked herself in her room for three months and posted a sign that read Need Space. Earlier that afternoon, Marc had seen Lexi in the lobby of the hotel talking to Abby, and when he gave her a little wave, she gave him a look that pretty much read the same as Abby’s sign. The only difference was that by the time school rolled around, Abby had taken down her sign. He didn’t think he’d get that lucky with Lexi. Hers looked to be permanent—with regard to him.
“I just overheard the mayor talking to the press about how great tonight turned out,” Nate said, walking up beside him with Trey in tow. “Said it was the best Showdown St. Helena has hosted in recent years.”
“It’s the first Showdown St. Helena has hosted in recent years,” Marc mumbled, tugging at his bow tie and knowing it wouldn’t make one ounce of difference. He felt like he’d been slowly suffocating all night.
“Good thing the bar wasn’t set very high, then,” Trey said. “Just means next year it won’t be hard to beat.”
Marc didn’t say anything. He didn’t know if there would be a next year, not at the Napa Grand, at least. At the rate his chest was struggling to expand, he didn’t know if he’d make it to tomorrow.
“Some dumb-ass said I have to sit at the head table,” Frankie said from behind. All three men turned and stared in shock. Someone actually moaned; it sounded like Nate.
“What?” Frankie said, looking from one brother to the other. “Oh right. I’m late. Sorry,” she snapped, and that was the only Frankie-like trait about her. Gone were the black leather and steel toes, and in their place were fitted red silk, strappy heels that brought her to at least six feet, and enough skin and cleavage to