I nod.
“She looks up to you. She wants to be strong, brave, and successful like you one day.”
I grunt. “She should see me sleeping across the hall from a man. She’d change her mind.”
Hope smiles. “You’re stronger and braver than you will ever know, Ry. You’re going to do just fine. It doesn’t mean it’ll be easy, but you’ll figure out how to make it ok.”
This woman and her confidence make me think I can do it.
I salute her, and she laughs as I head to find a nice spot outside with Lyla to search for anything I missed on Cole.
I wind my way through the house to the back doors. Lyla sits at a table under an umbrella with her laptop open in front of her.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the sister who’s shacking up with the hot pro footballer.” She laughs. “Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I’d say those words.”
Her oversized black sunglasses cover most of her sassy face.
“Haha. Well, eat it up. It won’t ever happen again.”
She slides her glasses down her nose to eye me, but I move on.
“What are you doing here? I thought you’d be off to Paris or back to New York?”
“Not yet. I’m taking a week or two off. All the traveling is getting to me. So today, I’m taking in fresh air and answering emails.”
“Gross. Don’t you have someone to do that? I’d rather claw my eyeballs out than sort through emails.”
She eyes the laptop under my arm. “Oh, really?”
I raise it. “Research and analysis.”
She rests back in her chair, taking a sip of her coffee. “I thought I’d treat the girls to makeovers. I brought tons of samples.”
“Ahh. That sounds more like it.”
She grins. “You should join us. It might help you with this new gig.”
I roll my eyes. I don’t give a shit about makeup and clothes. “How will all that mess help me find where these threats are coming from?”
Her head falls to the side like I’m slow.
I’d really like to know. Lyla could have a giant bonfire and burn it all, and she’d still be the most beautiful woman. Why she covers it all up, I’ll never understand. Well, maybe I do.
She wraps her hand around her to-go cup. “It’s quite possible a bare face, T-shirts, jeans, and. . . ” She peeks under the table. “Combat boots are Cole’s thing. No one would really know. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him dating anyone, and the socials would know.” She points one manicured nail at me. “But you’re crazy if you think you’ll be able to follow him around, and people won’t think you’re his girlfriend.”
That little statement has my bagel running to force its way back up.
She takes off her sunglasses and sets them on the table. “Like Van said, he appears more vulnerable if you’re dating him versus being a well-trained assassin.”
I groan, slumping in my chair.
I’m not putting on the revealing clothes that research suggests girlfriends wear to these games. I’m not self-conscious about my body. I just don’t want other people to see it. It’s mine and for me only.
But also, following him around in my daily uniform and boots made for smashing someone’s face in probably won’t give off girl. . .friend vibes.
“Shit.” I drop my head into my hands.
She laughs like my misery is entertaining. “Ry, it won’t be so bad.”
