“Eww, no,” I tell her, giving her an elbow to the ribs. “He does have a little girl though.”
“So you’re going to be a stepmommy,” Carrie croons, hand over her heart. “That’s so awesome.”
A grunt of frustration scrapes the inside of my throat. “I’m not going to be a stepmommy. We’re not even dating.”
“Then what were you doing with him tonight?” she asks indignantly, adjusting her hairband and raising her eyebrows at me.
“Oh, uh…” Phoenix told me about the dance lessons in confidence. He hasn’t even told his own family, so I don’t want to blab his secrets to these two. “I can’t tell you.”
Carrie’s eyes narrow, and I chew my bottom lip nervously as her gaze shifts around the room, finally landing on…
Dammit.The shoe box.
“And what do we have here?” She picks it up and inspects the brand before removing the lid. “These are dance shoes.Ballroomdance shoes.” She sticks her finger inside one, feeling the sole, and gives me ana-halook. “Still a little damp, so they’ve been worn recently.”
“Ooh, the plot thickens,” Sabrina adds, looking delighted as she continues to shovel popcorn into her mouth.
Carrie leans closer to me before lifting my arm and sticking her nose right in my pit. I yank away from her, but she simply laughs.
“You smell like you’ve been sweating.” She lifts one finger like Sherlock fucking Holmes. “I deduce that he took you dancing, which in my book, sounds a whole lot like a date.” Her face beams with pride, and I turn my face to look at Sabrina.
“CBI,” she states matter-of-factly, shaking her head in wonder, causing the beads on her braids to click softly.
“Yep,” I reply, my tone wry. “The Carrie Bureau of Investigation strikes again.”
“I’m right, aren’t I?” Carrie crows. “You went on a date with Phoenix Hale.”
“It wasn’t a date.” Slumping with resignation, I polish off the rest of my beer and set the empty on the coffee table. “Look, y’all can’t tell anyone this because he doesn’t want anyone to know.”
“Who the hell are we going to tell?” Sabrina asks. “It’s not like we hang around with billionaires.” She eyes me dubiously and purses her burgundy-coated lips. “Well,mostof us don’t.”
“We didn’t go on a date. I told him my favorite show isCelebrity Ballroom, so he invited me to go to a class with him. He goes every Tuesday night.”
Carrie bounces in her seat and smacks my leg. “Oh, that reminds me. Guess what?”
Her eyes dart between mine and Sabrina’s until we ask, “What?”
“My dad got invited to be onCelebrity Ballroomfor the upcoming season.”
“No shit!” I practically yell. “Is he going to do it?”
She nods. “I think so, but that’s top-secret info since they haven’t announced the cast for this year yet.”
“Do you get to go for any of the filming?” I ask excitedly.
“If I do, I’ll see if I can get tickets for you two.”
We fall into a discussion about which professional dancer we hope Axel gets paired with for the show, and the topic eventually turns back to Carrie’s phenomenal investigation skills.
My friend buffs her nails on the shoulder of her pink top. “I used to work summers with my Uncle Beau. He owns a security company in Dallas, and they did all kinds of investigative work.”
“Oh, that’s where Tank works, right? The big dude who was security at that sporting goods store event?”
“Yep, he works there.”
Sabrina holds up a hand. “Wait, why do they call him Tank?”
Carrie fishes her phone from the pocket of her denim shorts and searches for a picture. “Here. The big blond one is Uncle Tank. The rest are my other uncles.”
