Page 30 of Pin-up Girl

Sylvie twisted her mouth in frustration. “I just told you what I want. You’ll figure it out, and it’ll be perfect.”

“I can’t figur?—”

“As for music, we have this DJ who’s done some big weddings. Celebrity stuff.” Sylvie talked over me.

Brodie leaned in. “Aubrey said no?—”

“And he’s really good.” Sylvie kept going as if he hadn’t said a word. “Works the crowd, has a great playlist, really personable.”

Grandma rested a hand on Sylvie’s arm. “Your sister’s not up for the task.” Her tone held a heavy note of because of course she’s not. “You should ask someone else to choreograph a dance for you.”

The disdain in her voice raked over me like dressmaker’s chalk on a slick fabric, and I clenched my jaw. “No. I’ve got it. I’ll make sure Sylvie has the dance she wants.”

Sylvie grinned. “I knew you would. So the music, we have to pick a genre.”

She continued to toss out thoughts as we finished our coffee and Brodie picked up the tab for everything. As we left, he dropped Sylvie and Grandma at Grandma’s hotel.

The first few days of planning with Sylvie, I’d written everything down. Every single decision and nuance. After waking up to emailed summaries from her of all of it each following morning, I’d stopped taking my own notes.

Grandma was going to get her a room in the hotel here tonight, so they could keep planning, and I expected tomorrow morning I would wake up to a similar list based on today’s conversation.

Brodie and I headed toward the freeway. As he navigated downtown traffic, we were quiet.

How were we supposed to talk after a meal like that? We never had a problem getting into any topics online, but lunch today wasn’t the same.

“I’m trying to figure out how to put this delicately, and I can’t,” Brodie said.

After an afternoon of listening to Grandma’s disappointment in me, but also expecting far worse, the words put me on edge. “I think we’ll both be happier if you just say it.”

“Donna seems quite proud of most of her grandchildren.”

She did. She had glowing things to say about my sisters and most of my cousins.

“And I realize I don’t know any of them, except for brief encounters with Sylvie and Marianne.”

“Just say it,” I repeated. If I guessed where he was going, I’d be pissed off before he got the words out, and that would be harder to recover from.

Though, I didn’t see how this ended in anything besides someone being insulted.

“Did you exceed her expectations to the point where she couldn’t keep up? Is that what’s happening?” Brodie asked.

That was almost sweet, but my barking laugh slipped out anyway. “There’s no one here to perform for. I already gave you the job. Were you listening? My sister is an SVP. My other sister? Massively successful with her family. My cousins? The same. Scientists. Lawyers. There’s a high-ranking diplomat in there. Pretty sure one of them is up for a Nobel prize, and another will be sainted when he passes on. I’m no one. Single and barely middle class, still living in the same dinky little town I grew up in. The failure in an entire extended family of wealthy overachievers.”

Putting the thoughts into words left an empty ache in my chest, and turned my throat raw. I hadn’t meant to spit out all the things I usually kept to myself, but now he knew. Grandma didn’t like me because why should she? Everyone had to have a least favorite.

Brodie jerked the car hard, startling me and earning a long honk from behind us, as he turned right into the nearest lot. He maneuvered into a space near the back, and put the car in Park.

What the hell?

He shifted in his seat, facing me, and gripped my chin, forcing my gaze to his. “I’m not here for anyone but you. This isn’t a job. I’m not putting on a show.” His tone was fierce and silenced my thoughts. “If I tell you something, I mean it. So when I say I don’t give a fuck about their resumes, I mean it. I don’t know what that woman’s problem is with you, but she’s wrong. You’re creative and driven. You built Pin-up Princess from the ground up, and it’s incredible. You’re intelligent, beautiful, and would do anything for the people you love. I don’t fucking care what the world thinks of them or you, because I know who you actually are.”

The passion in his voice stole my breath. What was I supposed to say to any of that? “How do you know?”

“Because even though I’ve been gone, I’ve watched Haddarville. Despite not knowing who you were, I’ve talked to you, open and unguarded for years. I remember who you were back in the day, and you’re still that sweet, kind girl, but also so much more. When I say that, I mean it.”

He brushed his lips over mine, as if punctuating the statement, and a shiver of desire spread from my mouth and through my entire body.

I opened my mouth to reply, but only got a squeak out before he claimed me with a hard kiss. He slid his hand to the back of my neck, gripping and holding me in place, while he teased my lips with licks and nibbles and intensity.

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