Page 53 of Between the Lines

And she intended to enjoy it.

Paige carried her fresh cup of coffee to the table, settling into a chair where the light fell just right. She took a sip and studied the open box in front of her, the products lined up neatly like little beauty soldiers.

She picked a few up and examined them more closely. She liked that they felt substantial in her hands. The packaging was solid and elegant. Nothing flimsy or gaudy.

After a few minutes, her coffee was gone and her curiosity had won out. She gathered a small armful of products and took them down the hall to the bathroom, setting them on the counter beneath the mirror. The room was bright with morning light. This was where she’d always tested things, because in this much light, the truth showed up quickly.

She read the labels again, slower this time. Cleanser. Serum. Moisturizer. Eye cream. She washed her hands, put on a terrycloth headband to hold her hair back, and started with the cleanser, working it gently over her skin. It rinsed clean without that tight, stripped feeling she hated.

That was a good sign.

She followed with the serum, a few drops warmed between her fingers before pressing it in. It absorbed quickly, no residue, no shine that would fight with makeup later. The moisturizer came next, richer than she’d expected but not heavy, and the eye cream last, tapped in carefully with her ring finger the way she’d learned over the years.

Paige leaned closer to the mirror, tilting her face from side to side. Her skin felt good. Smooth. And it looked calm. Like it had been given exactly what it needed without any stress. That wasn’t always the case with new products.

She smiled at her reflection, a real one this time. She nodded. “I can work with this.”

Of course, she’d need to live with these products on her face for a while. There was no telling how her skin might react in an hour or so. She might wake up tomorrow morning with splotches. She doubted that would happen, but she was ready to wait it out all the same.

Back at the table, Paige made a few notes on a pad. She jotted down how the products felt. How they smelled. A few words to use when she described them. What she’d say, and what she wouldn’t. She wasn’t interested in hyping this stuff up. She was interested in honesty.

Her audience expected that. If something didn’t work, it was just as important for them to know that.

And in that moment, focused on this new aspect of her brand, Paige forgot to think about Darcy Lane.

Which was exactly how it should be.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Blaise came back from walking Beau to find a yellow sticky note slapped crookedly against her front door.

Call me.

No signature. No other explanation. Just Brick’s unmistakable blocky handwriting.

Her stomach tightened, as she immediately wondered what was going on. Had Holland had a setback? She could only imagine.

She unlocked the door, nudging it open with her foot, unclipped Beau’s leash, and set her keys down without bothering to take off her shoes. Beau went straight for his water bowl, tail wagging like nothing in the world could possibly be wrong.

Blaise picked up her phone and called.

Brick answered on the second ring. “Hey.”

“You left a note that just says, ‘Call me,’” she said. “You don’t do that unless something’s wrong. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” He took a breath, then she heard a faint smile in his voice. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Well, you did.”

“Sorry about that.” Another pause. “Everything’s fine, I swear. I just wanted to ask you something in person, but I missed you.”

Blaise leaned against the counter. “Okay. Ask.”

“I was wondering if you’d want to go out on my boat with me today,” he said. “Enjoy the day. Do a bit of fishing, maybe. Could see dolphins. Never can tell. Beau can come, too.”

She blinked. “Your boat.”

“Yeah.”