Classic.
She drained the last of her coffee and headed inside. A shower, fresh clothes, and breakfast would help clear her head. Maybe then she could figure out why Blake had sent her to Copper Moon during the biggest event of the season, and why she wasn't as annoyed about it as she should be.
The hotel restaurant was packed.
Bree stood in the doorway, taking in the full tables, the harried waitstaff, the buzz of conversation that filled every corner of the space. Apparently, everyone associated with the race had decided to have breakfast at the same time.
She almost turned around. The room felt too full, too loud, too much like the chaos she'd been trying to escape. But her stomach growled again, and she'd already checked; room service was backed up for at least an hour.
"Table for one?" The hostess appeared at her elbow, looking frazzled but determined.
"Yes, please."
The hostess scanned the room, her expression growing increasingly hopeless. "It's going to be at least a twenty-minute wait. Unless," she paused, "you'd be willing to share? We have a woman at a table for four who said she wouldn't mind company."
Bree hesitated. She'd come to Copper Moon to be alone, to process her grief without having to make small talk with strangers. But the alternative was going hungry or hiding in her room, and neither option appealed.
"That's fine," she said.
The hostess led her through the crowded restaurant to a table near the windows. A woman sat alone, her sleek black hair pulled back in a low ponytail, her attention focused on her phone. She looked up as they approached, and her face broke into a warm smile.
"Thank you for sharing your table," the hostess said. "This is..."
"Bree," Bree supplied. "Bree Spencer."
"Carmen Reyes." The woman gestured to the empty chair across from her. "Please, sit. I was starting to feel like I was taking up too much real estate."
Bree settled into the chair, grateful for the woman's easy manner. Carmen had the kind of confidence that put people at ease, the kind that came from being comfortable in her own skin.
"Are you here for the race?" Carmen asked, setting her phone aside.
"Accidentally," Bree said, then laughed at how ridiculous it sounded. "A friend suggested I come to Copper Moon for some peace and quiet. He forgot to mention it was race weekend."
Carmen's laugh was rich and genuine. "Peace and quiet during race week. Oh honey, that's like looking for silence at a rock concert."
"I'm starting to realize that."
A waitress appeared, harried but smiling, and took their orders. Bree asked for an omelet and toast; Carmen ordered the breakfast special with enough food for two people.
"Stress eating," Carmen explained when the waitress left. "My sister's working the race, and I'm a nervous wreck about it."
"Working as in racing?"
“Heidi’s the one who handles all the Red Dragons’ design work,” Carmen added, rolling her eyes. “She’s brilliant with engines and aesthetics, but she’s also… intense. Race week makes her impossible to live with.”
Bree smiled. “Sounds like sisters.”
“You’ll meet her sooner or later,” Carmen said. “Trust me, she’ll make sure of it.”
Carmen took a sip of her coffee. "What about you? What brings you to Copper Moon, besides the accidental timing?"
Bree traced the rim of her water glass, considering how much to share. Something about Carmen's open expression and the genuine interest in her eyes made the truth easier to say.
"My sister used to come here. She passed away a year ago, and I thought," she paused, searching for the right words, "I thought maybe being here would help me feel close to her again."
Carmen's expression softened. "I'm so sorry. A year is nothing, really. Not when it comes to grief."
"No," Bree agreed quietly. "It's not."
