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Definitely the most fun.
And by far the most irresponsible.
Between the two of us Evie probably really needs that tropical vacation.
“I didn’t realize local press was covering tonight’s festivities.” My free hand slides into my pocket. “You doing a little bit of social spying? Trying to report on who bids on what?”
“Yes,” she swiftly admits prior to adjusting her hold on her clutch, “but I don’t work local anymore. I work global.” Pride pushes her bare shoulders completely backward. “I’m lead reporter of public figures for Outside the Lines magazine.”
“Wow,” sincerely slips out, “that is quite the career upgrade.”
“Are the Lawson brothers really that smoking hot in person?” Bryn anxiously asks.
Ava lowers her jaw to respond only to be met by a vicious throat clearing. After a brief pause and hard swallow, she kindly announces, “I totally owe the change to the two of you.” Her grin grows wider. “Writing that interview…writing that article…covering that event…it unlocked so many doors for me.”
And that simply made me even happier that I had done it.
“I wish there was some way I could repay you.” She lets additional warmth whirl around her expression. “Seriously. If you two ever need anything, just let me know.”
An idea suddenly hitting me in the gut pushes me to ask, “How do you feel about Global Laundry?”
“Hate them.”
“Monica Simmons?”
“Hate her.”
“How would you like to do something productive with that hate?”
Bryn’s gasp and wicked smile indicate she’s onto my plan.
“How would you like to do an eclusive interview regarding us, our careers, and our pending wedding?”
Ava’s loud squealing is attached to her throwing her hands up into the air. “Ohmygod, I would love to!”
Chapter 6
Brynley
First being interviewed all weekend by the media.
Now, my mom.
Does it ever stop?
Will it ever stop?
“Why aren’t you eating those?” Mom’s palms brace themselves on the marble countertop in her recently finished, rustic cottage home. “They’re handmade chocolate truffles all the way from Switzerland.”
Crossing my ripped jean covered ankles occurs at the same time I poke, “You sure they aren’t poisoned?”
She scoldingly tilts her head to one side, dirty blonde locks shaping her face. “I bought them near the facility she was leaving, not at it.”
Not smirking is almost impossible. “And how was transitioning the redheaded salt succubus from planet M-113 back into civilized society?”
“Simple.” Mom picks up one of the darker chocolate pieces, wiggles it in front of my face, and then shoves it into her mouth to prove it’s edible. “She seems healthy. She’s on the right meds.” Swallowing the contents of her mouth is followed by a sweet grin. “She’s even renting a room above the floral shop she secured a job at during the reintegration process of her program. It’s actually next door to the chocolate shop.”
“Ah, you got a batch before she could sneak over and poison the supply. Smart.”
