Lark gave her a playful salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Keep this planner on you at all times. I know it’ll fit just fine in that gargantuan bag of yours.”
Lark laughed. “Don’t diss the bag,” she said, as she tucked the planner away.
Wren hadn’t oversold how big the damn thing was. She suspected the last planner wasn’t really lost at all, just buried deep in the endless well of Lark’s purse.
They’d done these same things countless times in the past, and those were the weeks—sometimes months—when Lark nailed it. The problem was, her sister was shit when it came to remembering to do these things for herself. No matter how many times Wren reminded her.
“Okay. Now, if you would just do that same thing every Sunday when you get your new work schedule, you’d be set.”
Lark nodded. “I will. Thanks, Wrennie. I wish I could be half as organized as you.”
Wren grinned. “And I wish I could be half as outgoing as you.”
“Which reminds me,” Lark said, “you didn’t tell me how the festival went.”
“It was fine.” Wren used the planner as a way to stall, because she hadn’t been looking forward to this conversation. She’d wrestled all last night and today over how much to tell her sister.
“I’d hoped to see you before I saw Grayson, but Murphy’s Law hates me,” Lark grumbled. “The second I walked into work, there he was, eating lunch with Jace.”
“What did he say?” Wren asked, her stomach fluttering nervously. The memory of Grayson’s kiss slammed into her without warning. The heat of his mouth, the scrape of his beard, his big hands gripping her waist.
Had he mentioned the kiss to Lark?
No. He hadn’t. Wren could answer that herself.
Because there was no way Lark wouldn’t have left work mid-shift and come straight to Wren if he’d told her.
“Nothing. I avoided him like the plague because I was afraid he’d ask me something about the weekend I couldn’t answer. Luckily, a group of women came in right after I got there, so I did the tasting and kept talking until he left. Did he suspect anything? Did he figure out you weren’t me? I’m assuming not, or else my ass would have been so fired.”
“He didn’t suspect.”
Lark breathed a visible sigh of relief. “Good. Give me at least a handful of details so I’ll have something specific to say, should it come up.”
So Wren did. She mentioned a few of the more colorful groups who came to the tent for tastings, and then she shared about the drunk and how Grayson had intervened.
Lark looked crestfallen that she’d put her in that position, so Wren drastically underplayed it, reassuring her sister it wasn’t as bad as it sounded.
Even though it totally was.
Then, because Wren was almost certain it would come up, she told Lark about the flooded hotel…and how she and Grayson had shared a bed.
It was a hell of a lot harder to calm Lark down after that.
“Oh my God! I should never have asked you to do this. I am the worst sister ever!”
Wren reached over and grasped Lark’s hands, squeezing them reassuringly. “It was fine. He was a total gentleman. He slept on top of the covers while I was underneath, and I—” Wren blushed when she admitted, “I built a pillow wall between us.”
Lark, despite her concern, laughed. “Jesus. That’s kind of hysterical. And honestly, probably something I would have done just to be a smart-ass, since Grayson is such a grump.”
Wren shook her head, because now that she had firsthand knowledge of the man, she couldn’t stop herself from defending him against her sister’s description. “That man is anything but grumpy. Maybe he’s more serious than you’re used to, but he was really very nice and funny and…”
Wren had gone too far—because all trace of concern left Lark’s face, replaced with interest.
Keen interest.
“Is that right?” Lark said, studying Wren way too closely.
