Blur (Changing Colors Book 2) by N.A. Alcorn Page A

Jesse’s was pretty spectacular. Dear God, I’m getting—”
    Brooke cuts her off. “Slow your roll, Susie. I think you might change your mind about discussing the Cockelgänger right now.” Brooke laughs, and then slowly points the screen in my direction.
    Lindsay’s eyes go wide when they meet mine. “Oh. Shit. Well, screw me sideways. Hi, Dylan. Long time no see.”
    I laugh, grinning at her shocked yet amused expression. “Hey, Lindsay. How’s it hangin’?”
    “Oh, you know, the usual. Just discussing your brother’s cock. Nothing major.” Lindsay’s lips crest into a smirk. “Tell Jesse I said hello.”
    “I’ll be sure to pass along the sentiment. Anything else you want me to tell the Cockelgänger?”
    She barks out a laugh. “Nah,” she adds gesturing with her hand across the screen. “No use adding to that ego of his. I’ve seen his Instagram.”
    That cracks me up. “Right.”
    Brooke turns the phone back in her direction. “So, as I was saying, now isn’t a good time, Linds.”
    “Yeah, I can see that. Call me later. We obviously have a lot more to discuss.”
    “I’m hanging up now.”
    “Olive juice, you hooker.”
    “Olive juice too, you crazy dickhead.”
    Brooke taps the screen and sets the phone back on her desk. “Sorry about that. Lindsay’s pretty damn unstoppable once she gets started.”
    Nodding, I grin. “Yeah, I remember that about her. Au Fait…Karaoke…She was a force to be reckoned with.”
    “Yeah.” Her eyes daze off for a few seconds, and before I can continue our trip down memory lane, her phone rings again. Brooke sighs, glancing down at her desk, and then her hesitant gaze meets mine.
    “Go ahead and take it. I’m not in a rush.”
    Her eyes flit towards the screen and then back to me again, before she finally picks up her phone on the fourth ring. You’d think it’s a bomb the way she grasps it lightly, slowly pulling it towards her face. With one finger swipe across the screen, a male voice fills the room. “Baby girl, what are you—hey, wait a minute. What are you wearing?”
    She rolls her eyes. “I had a conference call with Alistair’s tailored suit posse, remember?”
    His chuckle echoes in the room. “I forgot about that. Well, you look gorgeous, baby girl.”
    Seriously, baby girl? What is with that? My brain cringes every time I hear that fucking nickname.
    Brooke clears her throat. Her neck pulses with uncomfortable movements as she swallows a breath. “Is there anything you need right now, Jame? I’m getting ready to work on some music with Dylan.”
    “Fantastic. Well, I just wanted to see where I needed to pick you up for dinner tonight?”
    Bloody hell, I want to crawl out of my skin. It’s one thing to sit here and wait patiently while she chats with her sister or Lindsay, but it’s another thing to sit here and listen to her make small talk with her wanker of a fiancé. Sure, in a round about way, he’s my boss, but for all intents and purposes, Jamie Wallace and his horrible nicknames can suck it.
    Their happy chitchat has my stomach twisting, nausea filling my mouth. My ears tune them out, but my eyes can’t stop from running along the length of her, silently savoring and scrutinizing her appearance. Of course, she’s beautiful in my eyes, Brooke is always beautiful, but I feel like an alien has taken over her body. She is dressed in nothing like I’ve ever seen her wear. Her hair is pulled into a tight bun, a few blonde curls framing her face. A black skirt skims her gorgeous arse, landing just below her knee, highlighting her toned, lean calves. And a grey silk blouse finishes off the business-like attire.
    I understand she had a conference call today and probably needed to dress appropriately, but even when I saw Brooke dress up for an evening in Paris, she always managed to throw in her own style, her own little flash of personality.
    Where is the Brooke I’ve come to know and love? This version—this