“Pops,” Brookes says, his voice suddenly gentle. “That manattackedyou.”
“Oh,” I say, my shoulders sagging, finally meeting his gaze. He’s not talking about the beach. Hopefully I imagined that, too.
“If I didn’t come back there when I did…” Brookes trails off, and I see a contradicting darkness flash in his bright blue eyes.
I shudder at the memory of last night, but then I sit up a little straighter, squaring my shoulders, my chin held defiantly high. “Brookes, he was just… drunk.” I shake my head, not wanting to dredge it up.
“Poppy, I?—”
“Please, Brookes.” I steady him with a slightly warning look.
His eyes bore into mine like he’s searching for something, but I avert my gaze, looking down at my laptop.
“Let’s just forget about last night,” I say with a nonchalant shrug, lifting my eyes once more and meeting his. “Allof it.”
Scrubbing a hand over his stubbled chin, Brookes looks at me long and hard, his gaze dipping downwards and lingering momentarily on the white tank top I’m wearing before he quickly looks away. And, with a curt nod, he rises again and turns back to the microwave right as it chimes, signaling that his spinach, egg white, and turkey bacon breakfast burrito is ready.
Placing the burrito into a paper napkin, Brookes tosses the cardboard into the trash compactor and turns, walking out of the kitchen with a muttered, “I’ve gotta go.”
When I hear the front door open and close, I heave a racking sigh, burying my face in my hands with another stifled groan. I need a new job.
I knock on the door, waiting nervously, twisting the fob to Brookes’ Range Rover between my fingers.
“Hey, hon!”
At the sound of Lori’s voice, I search, my eyebrows dipping because where is she?
“Come on in, baby. Door’s open.”
I realize then, it’s the doorbell talking to me, a small camera lens flashing, and pushing on the big brass handle, the huge door nudges open.
Inside, the house is beautiful, precisely the kind of place I’d expect a woman like Lori to live. All whites and creams, airy, with bright colors splashed about, and Spanish accents. I continue through the sprawling foyer, through a big archway and into the living area, stopping in my tracks when I find Lori lying on a big white leather sectional, dressed in a sexy negligee and a feathered robe, a cocktail balancing precariously in her hand while a beautiful man dressed in bright pink scrubs sticks a needle in her face.
“Hi, baby!” Lori says, careful not to move her face too much.
“Um, hi.” I wave awkwardly, my gaze scanning the space.
“You go on out into the lanai and I’ll be there in just a sec, honey bun.”
Hesitating, I do as I’m told, crossing the big open room and walking out through the pocket doors, into a massive lanai that looks out over the canal, the water glistening beneath the afternoon sun. I take a seat on the super plush patio sofa and release a heavy sigh, feeling my shoulders sag.
When I realized I had no one to talk to, I texted Lori to ask if she was free for some advice, and she told me to come straightover. I feel bad for interrupting her two p.m. Botox appointment, but she’s really the only person I have.
“Hi, baby.”
I startle from my thoughts, turning to see Lori swan out of the house, cocktail in hand, face slightly blotchy, feathered robe fluttering in the breeze. She leans in and air kisses each of my cheeks before taking a load off next to me, kicking her perfectly manicured feet up onto the patio coffee table.
“Thank you so much for seeing me.”
“Always, baby, you know that.” She waves a dismissive hand, her gaze scrupulous as she looks at me. “What’s wrong?”
I swallow hard.
“You have that pesky crease again,” she says, pointing between my eyebrows. “I can get Stuart to pop a few units in there before he packs up his needles, if you like.”
“No, it’s okay. Thanks.” I huff a laugh.
“What is it, baby?” Lori asks, her face turning serious.
