Page 92 of Hot Shot

I blink. “Who?”

“My mom.”

I consider that. Mrs. Garner was apparently a high-powered CEO before retiring and Carrie’s talked a bunch about how she’s having a hard time dealing with the loss of her career and all that went with it. “That might be a fantastic idea,” I say slowly.

Carrie’s eyes enlarge. “I think it might be too!” She inhales a long breath. “She needs something to keep her busy, something to focus on. This isn’t in her wheelhouse.” She looks at Anna. “She used to be the CEO of South Bay Community Health.”

Anna nods. “She would certainly bring some good leadership and management skills to the project.”

“Let’s go talk to her right now.” Carrie bounces up out of her seat.

“Hold up.” I reach for her hand.

“Why?”

“Uh . . .” She’s got me there. But I’m a guy who likes to think things through and Carrie likes to act quickly. Sometimes too quickly. “Maybe we should think about whether there’s anyone else who could do it.”

Anna looks between us. “Finding someone willing to volunteer their time who has the skills to coordinate this basically from the ground up could be a challenge. I can put out some feelers, however, if you want me to.”

Carrie meets my eyes. “It makes sense.”

“It does. Let’s talk about how to approach her, though. Make sure we have our story straight about our reasons for wanting to do this.”

“I hate lying to my mom.” Carrie’s bottom lip pushes out. “I hated lying to Lauren about what I was doing with Julia all those days. I’ve thought about telling her the truth . . . maybe it’s long enough after the fact that she won’t get upset. And Julia has stayed out of trouble ever since.”

Carrie has brought Julia by my place a couple of times. She seemed fascinated with my metal sculpture, as was Carrie actually, and they both spent some time watching me work, which was weird but kind of cool.

“I think part of it is just having attention,” I say.

“Maybe it would open Lauren’s eyes and show her that she needs to put Julia first. I know she’s going through a hard time, but jeez.”

“So, back to your mom . . .”

Carrie touched her fingers to her lips. “She’s not exactly . . . understanding of artistic temperaments.” She grimaces. “So I don’t know how she’d deal with the kids, but maybe that doesn’t matter. We just need to make sure that the volunteers who work directly with the kids are good with them.”

“I think she’d be fine with them,” I say. “I could see how much she loves her grandchildren.”

“Yes, she does.”

“And she raised four children and did a pretty damn good job of it.”

“But . . .”

“I know.” I squeeze her hand. Our eyes meet. “Why don’t you ask her and see what she thinks?”

“If she knows Julia’s involved, it might help. We’ll just have to be careful about how much we say.”

We.

Yeah. I’ll be there with her if she wants.

Carrie’s been killing herself the last few weeks. She found a potential location for the gallery that would be perfect. She’s been helping Hayden put together a speedy wedding. She’s done a photo shoot for Hollywood stars, for Chrissake. She’s been packing and making all the arrangements to move to Spain for nine months. Nine fucking months.

She’s been practicing her Spanish with me—mostly in bed—and she’s so damn cute. For the rest of my life, those phrases I’ve taught her will be accompanied by memories of her sitting with her hair all wild around her shoulders, her lips swollen, sheets pulled up over her beautiful breasts, her bare shoulders gleaming in the lamplight.

I glance at my watch. “I have time now if you think your mom would be home.”

“I’ll call just to make sure.” She reaches for her cellphone.

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