Page 29 of Play Book

“Maybe he’ll surprise us,” she says, leaning against the counter. She searches my face carefully. “Are you sure you’re up for… casual sex after…”

“After someone called me a whore?” I finish her unspoken thought. “Absolutely. We were going there last night, and I fucking refuse to be victimized. I want him. He wants me. We’d already agreed to a casual night of fun. Then he got pulled into all this drama. It’s horrifying, but I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“No. You most certainly are not.” She pauses. “But you’re also human. And vulnerable.”

“I am. But he was there for me last night, and it feels like we have a bond. It’s hard to explain, but he could have left at any point in the evening. Standing here for nearly three hours while we sorted everything out with the police. Drinking tea with me in my living room. Rubbing my shoulders. Tucking me in, cleaning up the kitchen, and then sleeping next to me without touching me. I mean, he was gone when I woke up but he left me a note.”

She smiles. “You like him. You like-like him.”

I shrug. “I do. I’m sure it’s going to hurt a little when he reiterates that he doesn’t do relationships, which he’s been up front about, but I need something, Harper. Something different. Someone different. Even if I get my heart broken, what’s the point of living if we don’t try all the things?”

“And you feel like you need to try to change Canyon?”

“Oh, no!” I shake my head vehemently. “I don’t want to change him at all. I adore him just the way he is. At least, my current fantasy version of him. Maybe he’ll suck in bed and tomorrow I’ll be telling you the woeful story of his three-pump-dump.”

We both burst out laughing.

“I really hope not,” she says, shaking her head. “You deserve better.”

“I’m going to give him the painting he loves as a thank you for last night.”

“Well, make sure you give it to him before you have sex. You know, just in case it’s bad.”

We both start laughing again, and I’ve never been so grateful for her friendship.

We’ve only known each other about two years, having worked on some charity events together before she won the court case giving her ownership of the Phantoms. I’m so proud of her for what she’s trying to do, all while rekindling her relationship with her ex-husband, whom she’d just remarried. She has a lot going on but she’s one of the strongest women I’ve ever met.

And in the middle of it all, she dropped everything to come help me clean, organize, and paint over the vandalism on my gallery walls.

She’s a real friend.

I have a lot of them, thankfully.

Two other models I know, Cheyenne and Stevie, had been here for a couple of hours too, though they had to leave because of a work commitment. Cheyenne was Ivan’s fiancée, and Stevie and I had worked together for years before I’d decided to step back from modeling. Harper’s assistant, Autumn, was here for a while too, but she had to go in to the office for a little while.

All in all, we’d gotten a lot done in a short time, and when the guys showed up, they pretty much helped me finish everything. I’ll be able to re-open on Monday—taking a few days’ breather will give me time to air out the smell of the paint and get my head on straight again.

I’m feeling okay right now, surrounded by friends and with plenty to keep me busy. Tomorrow, when I’m alone with no gallery to run or my friends rallying around me, might be different.

I climb in my car and my phone rings, and Bertie’s name flashes on the screen.

I answer on speaker. “Hey, Bertie.”

“What happened?” she demands. “I just saw something on the news about your gallery being burglarized.”

I tell her the basics, including what had been written on the wall, and she sucks in a breath.

“Who would do such a thing?” she demands.

“I don’t know,” I say carefully. “But I have to ask…”

“He wouldn’t!” she says immediately. Then she catches herself. “You think Russell did it?”

“I don’t know. Was he upset about our date?”

“He was disappointed, but we had a talk about his misogyny. His attitude. And unwarranted arrogance. He said he was going to see a therapist, because deep down, he’s not a bad kid. He’s just a little broken, having been raised by my incredibly narcissistic sister. But he’s lonely, and I don’t think he would react this way when he knows I hold the reins of his trust fund.”

“He has a trust fund?”

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