But, for Maggie’s sake, I should make an effort to fix her hair first.
I take a deep breath and plaster on a smile as I rescue three hairpins dangling from her disheveled ’do. “Okay then. Let’s give this a shot.”
“You are a sweetheart. Thank you.”
I pick up a loose wave at the back of her head and try to wind it up to match the elaborate twirls that someone with actual skills has put in place. If no one looks too closely, it might pass. I tuck the end in and secure it with a pin. She jumps as I jab it too hard and too far.
“Oh, God, sorry. I’m making this worse, aren’t I?”
If only the ground would open up and swallow me. And transport me back home while erasing my memory of Owen and everything Dashwood-related.
Maggie reaches around and taps me on the leg. “Not at all. I appreciate you trying.”
In the distance, the front door creaks open and shut and a flurry of footsteps and voices gets closer until Owen trots through the kitchen door.
Half of me warms with reassurance that he’s here to make everything better. The other half freezes with fear that his knitted brow means he regrets ever inviting me.
He looks from his aunt to me. “Are you both okay?”
The tightness in my chest eases when he approaches and places his chilly hand on my back. It floods me with reassurance, and I’m finally able to take a deep breath. It has to be a good sign that he’s asking if I’m okay, too, and touching me, rather than instantly banishing me from the premises.
The guy with glasses appears behind him with a perplexed expression. “What happened?”
Bringing up the rear, Gold Chain Man blows out a loud breath that ripples his lips like a horse. “You simply can’t get good—”
I don’t catch the rest, because Owen, eyes wide, breaks into a loud coughing fit as he spins on his heels, puts his arm around the guy’s shoulders, and hurries the bewildered-looking man from the room.
20
OWEN
My fake coughs might not have been Oscar-winning but thank fuck they were loud enough to prevent Summer from hearing what Archie just said.
I’m absolutely certain if I hadn’t foreseen how he was about to end that sentence, and managed to drown out “You simply can’t get goodstaff these days,” there’s no way Summer would still be here and trying to repair Aunt Maggie’s hair.
At the very least she would have silently walked away, jumped in the truck with Elsa, and driven off, never to be seen again.
But, more likely, she would have given me a large piece of her mind on the way out. The gist of it being how she was right all along about people with money being superior pricks who view her as someone so unworthy of their company they’ll always assume she’s a maid and never consider she might be my date.
I threw myself into the pretend coughing so enthusiastically, it’s triggered anactualcoughing fit that I don’t seem able to stop.
Archie whacks me on the back as we walk into the foyer. Maybe he’s trying to help, but it only makes me worse.
“You okay?” he asks. “That came on suddenly.”
“Yeah, Owen,” Elliot says, following us out.“Do you have dog allergies or something?”
Thanks, El, that’s a gift I can run with.
“Maybe, yeah. Now we’re away from it, it’s not so bad. Let’s stay here.” I grab onto the railing of the curved staircase and bend over as I try to pull some air into my lungs.
“Useless staff is one issue.” Archie’s voice bounces around the double-height hallway and off the antique-tiled floor, making my head rattle. “But bringing their dirty, hairy hounds to work is taking advantage.” He jabs his finger toward the kitchen. “That one has got to go.”
Elliot starts to correct him. “Oh, Summer isn’t—”
I hold up my hand sharply to shush my cousin, and just about muster the breath to cut him off. “I think the coughing’s passed. Feel much better.”
I manage to straighten without losing control of my lungs. “Anyway, good of you to stop by early, Archie. Such a surprise.”
