If I’d had a drink in my mouth, I would have spurted it halfway across the room. From the way Tank is pinching the bridge of his nose, this is not uncommon behavior.
“Well, Gram. I’ll take that under advisement,” I tell her when I’m able to speak actual words.
“And I understand you’re a twin. Just sayin’, I’m down for that,” the woman says with a smirk that tells me she’s kidding. Probably.
Tank shakes his head and mouths, “Sorry,” but I wave him off with a chuckle. I think Gram is fucking hilarious.
“So that would make me Tank’s grandfather,” I muse, playing along. “I think I’d like him to call me Pe-Paw.”
The old lady cackles in delight, while poor Tank looks like he’s wishing he had a couple ball gags for me and Gram.
“Okay, kids,” he calls. “Say bye to Mommy so she can get to work. Gram and I are taking you to the Space Center.” Under his breath, he mumbles, “Before your great-grandmother gets herself involved in a polyamorous relationship.”
“What’s a polly-anger relationship?” Amelia asks, obviously having that little kid ability of abnormally excellent hearing when it’s something they’re most definitelynotsupposed to hear. I’m quite familiar with it, as Reece is also in possession of this particular superpower.
“It’s, uhhhh,” Tank flounders, and I step in to rescue him.
“That’s when you get angry at someone named Polly because they stole all your crackers.”
“Oh. Huh,” Amelia says in confusion. “I guess that makes sense.”
“I need a drink,” Tank hisses at me as Bristol hugs all the kids.
“I’ll have a bottle of bourbon sent to your hotel tonight,” I promise.
He gives me a flat glare. “It’s the least you can do, Pe-Paw.”
Bristol is working on Jordie’s makeup at station one while I sit at station three, pushing my toe against the floor to swivel my chair from side to side. I’m not paying much attention to what the ladies are talking about since I’m amusing myself by ordering a bottle of bourbon to be delivered to the hotel where the Hanfords are staying. I attach Tank’s real name, which is Waylon, and put a note reading:To my favorite future grandson.
I grin to myself. He can’t really be too mad because I’m sending Blanton’s Gold Edition Single Barrel. I’m sure he’s earned it by taking three kids and his grandmother to NASA today.
My ears perk up when I hear Bristol ask, “So, I hear you’re dating Miles Soren.”
The amusement I was feeling fades away when Jordie answers, “Yes, he’s really sweet.”
I immediately hate Miles Soren. The second-year quarterback for the Wranglers is a total douche. Okay, I don’t have any actual proof of his douchery, but it’s probably true. In my mind anyway.
Tapping my phone, I look him up, and I’m disappointed by what I find. There are no arrests or scandals, he helps out with several national and local charities, and he’s rumored to be dating none other than Jordie McNamara. Overall, it seems like Miles is a decent guy. The fucker.
Tuning back into the conversation, I hear Jordie say, “It’s only been a few months, and we really haven’t gotten to see each other much because of our crazy schedules.”
Good.
Shit, where did that come from? What in the envious hell is going on with me? I need to get out of here for a couple minutes because Ihave no business worrying about who one of my endorsement partners is dating.
Rising to my feet, I ask, “Bristol, do you still wear Violet Haze perfume?”
She turns to me, both perfectly shaped eyebrows arching. “When I can afford it. Waylon usually gets me a bottle for Christmas, but I’m almost out.”
“I’ll grab you a bottle.” My eyes shift to the blonde seated in the salon chair, and my voice noticeably softens. “Jordie, do you like perfume?”
A small smile crests her lips. “I do, but I’ve never tried any of Hale’s scents.”
“I’ll get you one too. You ladies are working so hard, I think you deserve a treat.” At over two hundred dollars an ounce, Hale’s signature perfumes are quite a treat indeed.
Jordie laughs. “I’m not doing anything besides sitting in this chair. Bristol is the one doing all the work.”
Bristol pats her arm. “Don’t worry, honey, you’ll earn it in a little bit once you get started on the photo shoot. Those lights are brutal.” Then she strides over to one of the cabinets and opens it. The shelves are filled with every cosmetic product Hale makes, and she plucks three tiny sample bottles and brings them back to her station. “Let’s do a smell test. Hold out your wrists.”
