Page 50 of Brooke
She recoiled, practically stubbing her toe on the floor. “No! Let’s?—”
“So I won’t ask if your underwear is intact.” Another smirk from her friend. “What happens in Paris stays in Paris, huh?”
She gave Madison her most withering look even as her heart pumped heavily in her chest.
“Fine. I’m dropping it. You want anything from the kitchen? A washcloth for your feet maybe? What did you do with your shoes, by the way?”
“Ah…” What could she say? Certainly nothing about Axel insisting on taking care of the problem for her. “I’m having them professionally cleaned. It’s just…I’d never stepped in dog shit in Paris before, and I’d considered it a record.”
“It is.” Her nose wrinkled. “I’ve done it three times. God! People and their pets!”
“This from the woman who gives her bird jasmine bubble baths,” she teased her friend. “You should go to bed. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look haggard.”
Brooke felt a shaft of compassion. Her friend was working so hard to take over Nanine’s and make their mentor proud while also proving to herself she could do it. They had a lot in common.
“Don’t you dare put me in your day planner fix-it column.” She wagged a finger at her. “Exhaustion is perfectly normal before a restaurant opening, and really, this isn’t even a true opening. It’s areopeningwith nearly every person on Nanine’s original staff returning. We’re talking seasoned professionals. The training we’re doing to get ready can’t even really be called true training, which is why I’m over here more than Nanine’s. All we’re doing is launching a new menu with a new decor. Big whoop!”
Brooke knew bullshit when she heard it, but she also knew Madison didn’t want to be contradicted.
“It’s like I’ve told the staff. New decorations. New menu. Same Nanine’s. So don’t you dare start trying to fix me. There is nothing wrong here.”
“You’re safe.” She sent Madison a wink. “For now. I’m going up. But don’t be too much longer, okay? I don’t exactly like starting to worry about you too.”
“Me either.” She rubbed her hands down her arms as she shuddered. “The next thing I know you’ll have me cutting my hair and buying a new chic wardrobe, and suddenly we’ll all discover I am an ugly duckling to the core and quite a happy one. Quack. Quack.”
Brooke’s heart tore a little at that assessment, and she couldn’t let it pass. “The other day Sawyer told me he thought we were all beautiful. You included.”
Shock blanched her face before that toughness reasserted itself in narrowed golden eyes. “Beautiful? You people are funny. I don’t see myself like that. I’m just me. But Doc certainly has rose-colored lenses in his glasses. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You should sleep in like you used to.”
Madison only lifted her middle finger in the air and stalked back to the kitchen. Brooke shook her head and headed up to her bedroom. She glanced down the hall toward Dean’s door to see if it was closed—the usual indication that he was home, potentially with Jacqueline. But it was open, which meant she didn’t have to be as quiet on their floor as she walked around. She turned on the overhead lights, and something moved under her covers.
She screamed.
Dean and Thea shot up, clutching the duvet, their hair tousled from sleep.
“Brooke!”Dean rubbed his unshaven cheek, his hair rumpled. “Jesus, did you have to scream?”
“You’re the ones in my bed!”
Thea’s eyes were slowly filling with tears. “We were so worried when you didn’t come home after dinner. I know Nanine called you… I’d hoped that would make it easier.”
Oh God! They’d stayed up for her? “I texted I was fine and why I was late.”
The sound of pounding feet reached her ears, and shewinced. God, she’d woken up the whole house with her scream.
“Yeah, but you never stay out this late.” Dean picked up his phone from the bedside table. “You have your nighttime routine in your day planner, for Pete’s sake. Two thirty-seven? In the morning? A dog shit incident couldn’t be that traumatic.”
“I got to talking late with a friend,” she managed with a pointed look at Dean. “You two didn’t need to hang around for me.”
“We had to wait for you.” Thea pulled the covers up to her chest. “Dean suggested we crawl under the duvet?—”
“We talked and must have fallen asleep.” He started texting. “I need to tell Jacqueline?—”
“Oh, Jean Luc will be so worried,” Thea exclaimed, her eyes wide.
Dean held up a finger. “I’ll text him too. Hang on.”
