Page 73 of Flame
“That’s him.”
“He’s your brother?” Banks asks.
“Yes.” I laugh nervously. “Why? Is there a problem?”
Jess snickers, turning his attention to Foxx. “So that’s what you do? You protect celebrities. That makessomuch sense.”
“I feel like I’m missing something,” I say.
“We’ve never known what, exactly, Foxx does,” Moss says. “We’ve had theories. But he sneaks out of here in the middle of the night—with my binoculars. And he won’t tell us where he’s going.”
“I’m under an NDA,” Foxx says. “The people I work for don’t want everyone knowing their business.”
“So you’re telling me that Jason Brewer is Renn Brewer’s brother?” Banks asks, still piecing things together. “I’ve had conversations with a famous person’s brother and had no idea.”
I laugh. “Make sure you tell Jason he’s a famous person’s brother the next time you see him and see how well that goes over.”
Everyone laughs, and the sound is music to my ears.
“We have an idea,” Jess says, his arm around Pippa’s shoulders. “If you’re getting married tomorrow, then you can’t stay together tonight.”
My heart starts to pound. Foxx squeezes his fingers against me.
“It’s tradition,” Pippa says. “So why don’t we girls have a little bridal shower slash bachelorette party tonight? And Foxx can hang with the guys.”
“I don’t hang with the guys,” Foxx says.
“We’ll just stay at my house and have some drinks. Talk shit. Beat up Banks,” Jess says.
Banks scoffs. “You can try. He had me pinned behind a table earlier. It wasn’t exactly a respectable fight—and it couldn’t be a respectable fight because I’d kick his ass.”
Foxx lifts a brow. Banks sits back down, angling himself toward the door.
“Or the guys can stay at your house, and Bianca can come to ours,” Pippa offers, ignoring Banks. “It would be so much fun. We could get to know each other, and we can help you get ready in the morning. We can do face masks and our nails—all the stuff.”
“Pippa, that is such a lovely offer,” Damaris says.
My nervousness over the suggestion wanes, and a bubble of excitement grows.
I’ve never had a girls’ night before. I’ve never been invited to hang out and do masks and nails. And while the prospect is slightly terrifying—especially on the eve of my impromptu marriage—it also seems like fun.
“It might be fun,” I say to Foxx. My voice is barely heard over the roar of the room. “What do you think?”
He swallows, eyeing me carefully. Finally, he leans down close to the shell of my ear. “I have to protect you, remember?”
I turn my face to him, nearly brushing my lips against his. I tingle from head to toe and struggle to focus on our conversation.
“I … um …” I take a deep breath. “The houses are close, and it’s a dead-end street. You have a security system, and I won’t be alone.”
He pulls back. “Do you want to do this?”
“Kind of?”
Admitting this feels a bit vulnerable for some reason. I just met these women. Do I come across as needy or desperate? But as I glance around the room and feel their energy and kindness—and absorb their excitement, I really want to do it. For the first time in my life, I want to spend time with women who might be able to be my friends.
Hesitation is written all over him. Stress is evident on his shoulders. He closes his eyes briefly before nodding. “Okay. Then we’ll make it work.”
Thank you, Foxx. I don’t say it, but I don’t think I need to. The crooked smile he gives me tells me he knows.
