him.”
“That doesn’t make it right,” Payton argued hotly. “And put that down before I don’t have to worry about returning it.” She searched again. “There’s no card.”
“Perfect, then you won’t have to worry about returning it, since you don’t know the sender,” she argued just as hotly, moving to the small sideboard next to their round dinette. Bending, Libby placed the bottle in a basket woven of grapevines and filled with her grandmother’s linen napkins. “For now, this is the safest nest for our little egg.” She stood, tugged the strapless top of her indigo, beaded Chanel dress, before snagging her silk wrap and matching beaded purse. With her blonde hair flowing like spun gold around her shoulders, Libby was a walking fantasy.
“Lib, you might have to use your pepper spray tonight.”
“I’ll end up using it on myself, if this night’s another bust.” She sighed. “Let’s go. Every minute counts. I’ll drive.”
Libby’s car was a two-seater, and Payton questioned, “Isn’t Stephen escorting you?”
“No.”
“I figured you’d given him Noah’s seat.” Libby and Stephen had been dating for six months.
“Stephen’s company is catering a wedding of six-hundred in St. Petersburg.”
“Wow.” Payton slid the coordinating black wrap over one shoulder, smiling as it set off the flocked overlay on her dress. After digging grout from beneath her nails and clipping bits of dried sealant from her hair, the pleasure of dressing up in clothes she could never afford and participating in a party she wouldn’t have otherwise been invited, without Libby’s interference, was nothing short of exhilarating. “But we’ll see your father tonight, right?”
“Dad’s not feeling well,” she explained, locking the loft door as they stepped on the front landing.
Payton lifted her trumpet skirt as high as it could go and took a tentative step down. If she didn’t ass-plant, it would be a miracle. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope it’s not the flu.”
“It’s not.” Her face flashed concern, but she offered nothing else.
A half hour later, Libby handed her keys over to the valet as they entered the Hytel Plume. “Remember, Drake Easton is our targeted asshole.”
“If only we could trust Avery to help us.”
“We can’t trust anyone in that family. Did you study the pic I texted you.”
“Yes. I could pick Drake Easton out of any lineup.”
“Perfect,” Libby said, taking in the sizable crowd, “because we’ll have to split up.” A man with a walking cane stopped cold, his unusual eyes drinking Libby in slowly as though he were memorizing her. “Remember, no drinking, Pay, club soda for you. Got it?”
“Got it.” Payton discreetly glanced between the man and Libby. “This really hot guy is…oh, never mind, you have Stephen and he’s a keeper.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, her smile uncharacteristically brittle, “Stephen is a keeper.”
Libby turned on sparkling heels, disappearing into the crowd, right as a voice descended on Payton’s ear.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
Oh, she knew that voice. Turning around, she lost her breath in a rush of air as she greeted Dylan Easton, “Good evening, Mr. Easton.” The firehouse’s future was too important so Payton bit back what she really wanted to say - how he’d dumped her on a staircase with a sneer, and smiled warmly. His eyes roamed her, moving from forehead to chin, repeatedly, as he closed the distance between them. He appeared startled, reminding her of Avery when he had seen her face for the first time yesterday. She felt her smile slip. Others were beginning to stare. “Is something wrong?”
Unknotting his jaw, Dylan recomposed himself instantly, flashing a playboy’s smile. “I thought I’d dreamt you,” he purred intimately, his hand clasping hers, lifting her knuckles to his mouth for a warm kiss. The action struck a heady cord deep within her body, waking up places he’d toyed with the
“That doesn’t make it right,” Payton argued hotly. “And put that down before I don’t have to worry about returning it.” She searched again. “There’s no card.”
“Perfect, then you won’t have to worry about returning it, since you don’t know the sender,” she argued just as hotly, moving to the small sideboard next to their round dinette. Bending, Libby placed the bottle in a basket woven of grapevines and filled with her grandmother’s linen napkins. “For now, this is the safest nest for our little egg.” She stood, tugged the strapless top of her indigo, beaded Chanel dress, before snagging her silk wrap and matching beaded purse. With her blonde hair flowing like spun gold around her shoulders, Libby was a walking fantasy.
“Lib, you might have to use your pepper spray tonight.”
“I’ll end up using it on myself, if this night’s another bust.” She sighed. “Let’s go. Every minute counts. I’ll drive.”
Libby’s car was a two-seater, and Payton questioned, “Isn’t Stephen escorting you?”
“No.”
“I figured you’d given him Noah’s seat.” Libby and Stephen had been dating for six months.
“Stephen’s company is catering a wedding of six-hundred in St. Petersburg.”
“Wow.” Payton slid the coordinating black wrap over one shoulder, smiling as it set off the flocked overlay on her dress. After digging grout from beneath her nails and clipping bits of dried sealant from her hair, the pleasure of dressing up in clothes she could never afford and participating in a party she wouldn’t have otherwise been invited, without Libby’s interference, was nothing short of exhilarating. “But we’ll see your father tonight, right?”
“Dad’s not feeling well,” she explained, locking the loft door as they stepped on the front landing.
Payton lifted her trumpet skirt as high as it could go and took a tentative step down. If she didn’t ass-plant, it would be a miracle. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope it’s not the flu.”
“It’s not.” Her face flashed concern, but she offered nothing else.
A half hour later, Libby handed her keys over to the valet as they entered the Hytel Plume. “Remember, Drake Easton is our targeted asshole.”
“If only we could trust Avery to help us.”
“We can’t trust anyone in that family. Did you study the pic I texted you.”
“Yes. I could pick Drake Easton out of any lineup.”
“Perfect,” Libby said, taking in the sizable crowd, “because we’ll have to split up.” A man with a walking cane stopped cold, his unusual eyes drinking Libby in slowly as though he were memorizing her. “Remember, no drinking, Pay, club soda for you. Got it?”
“Got it.” Payton discreetly glanced between the man and Libby. “This really hot guy is…oh, never mind, you have Stephen and he’s a keeper.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, her smile uncharacteristically brittle, “Stephen is a keeper.”
Libby turned on sparkling heels, disappearing into the crowd, right as a voice descended on Payton’s ear.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
Oh, she knew that voice. Turning around, she lost her breath in a rush of air as she greeted Dylan Easton, “Good evening, Mr. Easton.” The firehouse’s future was too important so Payton bit back what she really wanted to say - how he’d dumped her on a staircase with a sneer, and smiled warmly. His eyes roamed her, moving from forehead to chin, repeatedly, as he closed the distance between them. He appeared startled, reminding her of Avery when he had seen her face for the first time yesterday. She felt her smile slip. Others were beginning to stare. “Is something wrong?”
Unknotting his jaw, Dylan recomposed himself instantly, flashing a playboy’s smile. “I thought I’d dreamt you,” he purred intimately, his hand clasping hers, lifting her knuckles to his mouth for a warm kiss. The action struck a heady cord deep within her body, waking up places he’d toyed with the
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