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“I made her a batch of brownies for the book release.”
“Good man.”
“And then I pretended I bought them at a bakery.”
“Oof,” she said. “You are such a guy sometimes. Bake her more brownies. Admit you made them.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Bake me a batch, too.”
“I’ll make brownies and send them before I leave.”
“Such an annoyingly perfect little brother.” Her voice softened. “Good night, Chris.”
“Good night, Gem.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
DAPHNE
Daphne was sitting in business class. With the “rich people,” as her mother always said when they’d boarded a flight. On the last vacation they’d planned together, when they knew the end was coming fast, Daphne had bought business-class seats for a trip to France, nearly emptying her savings to pay for them. Then the doctors decided her mother shouldn’t be flying, and they’d settled for a train to Banff, still business class, which had delighted her mother.
“Someday,” her mother used to say, “you’ll sell your books and fly business class around the world.”
Daphne had laughed. “You have no idea how much books actually make, do you, Mom?”
“You’ll be different.”
And now, here she was, flying business class on her very first book tour, and her fingers kept itching to take a photo for her mom. Maybe that should hurt, but instead it made her smile.
She could say her mom would be proud, but her mom had already been proud of her, and that was what mattered.
She’d dropped Tika off with the neighbor, Pam. Then she’d caught an Air North flight—that was the Yukon airline, which she preferred to use, even if it didn’t have a business class.
Chris had met her at the Vancouver airport. Now they were on the flight to LA.
“I have leg room,” Daphne crowed. “And elbow room.”
“Pretty sweet, huh?”
“No, these are pretty sweet.”
She lifted the box of brownies Chris had brought. They were the same kind he’d sent her at release. Last week, she’d considered contacting the bakery and trying to get a box shipped to the Yukon. Good thing she hadn’t, because the brownies hadn’t actually been from there. Chris had baked them.
He’d baked the most delicious brownies she’d ever had.
“Still looking for the photo, though,” she said as she waggled the box.
He grinned and shrugged. “I figured you already had one. The view doesn’t change.”
She wanted to follow up on that. Joke about ways the view could change… maybe if there wasn’t a strategically placed brownie box. She’d punted a ball that he hadn’t ignored but hadn’t exactly knocked back, either.
She hadn’t forgotten their kiss the other day. On a scale of fake-dating kisses, from polite to “totally designed to convince someone you were in a relationship,” that kiss was a twelve. Maybe thirteen.
It hadn’t felt fake. It’d felt as if they were five minutes from ripping off clothing, and with him pressed against her, there was no way she’d mistaken how much he’d been into it. But he hadn’t mentioned it since Lawrence’s call had interrupted them.
At least he’d brought brownies.
