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It’s always been the little things about Blair. Her small hands. Her big glasses. Her red lips. Her tiny gold earrings shaped like books. Her evil giggle when she pranks me. Her mini vibrator collection. I’ve been so wrong because she feels so right.
“I’m not distracted, Sir,” I answer. “I’m in love with your daughter. I’ve loved her since college when she superglued pubic hair to my phone.”
“Blair Madison Monroe!” He’s shocked. He’s appalled.
“It wasn’t pubic hair.” But Blair laughs, turning to me. “It was my hair from the shower drain. I just cut it to look like pubes.”
“If it was in the shower drain,” I laugh with her, “it could’ve been from your landing strip.”
For a moment, I got lost in Blair’s eyes. I just smile at her. I just remember my sexy frenemy, the one person who brought me joy in college. Without Colt, I only survived because of Blair.
Her dad must clock it. He gets quiet, watching our laugh, hearing our connection, his stare studying my hand holding hers.
“Y’all haven’t hit the worst yet,” he warns. “By the time you reach the Super Bowl, you’ll be hunted like prey.”
“Who’s being dramatic now, Dad?”
Blair dismisses him, but her dad is right. I also warn her, but we’re too in love for her to listen.
Just in time, Colt and Ruby return and we finally relax. We enjoy our meal until Blair’s dad worries aloud.
“This, uh, Amber influencer, whatever the hell you kids call it.” He stabs his steak. “She’s raising a ruckus online. About me. About my daughter. About y’all.” He points to me, and oh shit, he loops in Colt. “My publicist is having a fit. What’s going on?”
“She’s my ex-girlfriend, Sir,” Colt answers him. On cue, Ruby caresses his shoulder.
“But something’s fishy.” Duncan asks Colt, “Why is she going after me and my daughter when Blair’s dating your best friend, not you? And why isn’t she going after her?”
He points to Ruby, and sweat hits my pits. My pulse triples. Blair’s dad may have been a horn dog, but he’s not a dumb one.
Is he on to us?
Are we that obvious?
Colt tells the truth. Some of it. “Because Blair helped me realize how toxic Amber was for me, and now Amber’s pissed about it.”
Blair scoffs, “Amber’s pissed about that and all cosmetics not tested on innocent baby bunnies. You know, to make sure her eyeshadows don’t fade.”
Ruby laughs, but Blair’s dad is not amused.
“Laugh all you want.” Duncan points his fork at Blair. “But someone like that will steal the flowers off her grandma’s grave to make herself look pretty.”
“Dad, quit talking Southern and speak plain.”
“I am speaking plainly,” he replies. “It’s universal what a woman scorned will do. Trust me, I know. Amber’s put a target on your back, and your panty stunt made it worse. You need my help. I’m gonna release a statement about this mess.”
This morning, my publicist called about Blair’s viral panties. I put her on speakerphone with Blair, and we made some plans to spin it positively. My idea of a book signing for Blair became part of the play. And, of course, Blair had the idea to take it to the next level.
But still, Amber’s on a witch hunt for Blair.
So, we spend the next hour trying to convince Blair’s dad to leave Amber alone. Blair starts a long chat with him. “Dad, sometimes saying nothing says everything,” she explains while my eyes signal Colt to meet me inside.
We clear a few plates, dropping them in the sink. I aim for the walk-in pantry, and Colt follows, letting the door swing closed behind us.
“We’re fucked,” I mutter. “Blair’s dad is a loose cannon.”
“He’s just protecting his daughter.”
“She can protect herself,” I answer. “And the last thing we need is to fan Amber’s flames. It’s exactly what she wants.”
