Page 118 of Big Dill

She slept with me.

She doesn’t always make the best decisions when she’s scattered.

“I think she’s feeling a little lost,” Jaxon adds.

Fuck.

Maybe I should have asked her to stay. Maybe that’s what she was looking for—something solid, something certain. But what if she regrets it? She wants to be a famous fashion designer. She wants to make her mark. I don’t know much about production or buyers or the business, but I do know that kind of dream usually lives in big cities—not places like this.

Fuckidy fuck fuck fuck.

“Eggs okay?”

“Yeah. Why?” I glance down at my fork, still frozen midair.

“You’re not eating.” I shove the eggs into my mouth, chewing quickly as he watches me. Then he asks, softer now, “You think she’s okay?”

“She will be,” I say, because I honestly don’t know what else to say. Whatever’s going on with her, it’s clear we need to talk. Tonight—after the party. I’ll take her to her new apartment, help her get settled, and then we’ll finally have the heart-to-heart we’ve been skirting for weeks.

I check the time. “We better get going. I’ve got a client in twenty minutes.”

I stand and slide my plate into the dishwasher. After he finishes his last bite, I clean up behind him. Ten minutes later, we’re stepping into the social when Jaxon grabs my arm.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs.

“What?”

He juts his chin toward the racks. “Do you know who that is?”

I follow his gaze to a woman about Jami’s age and build, calmly flipping through Jami’s designs with one hand, her phone in the other.

“That’s Nicola Fairfax,” Jaxon says. “From the Wild Games series.”

Holy crap. “What is she doing here?” I ask, echoing Jaxon’s stunned tone as my eyes sweep the room, already searching for Jami.

“Hi,” Nicola says cheerfully, clearly unfazed by our staring. She pulls a pair of yoga pants from the rack. “These are so cute.” She takes a picture of them.

“The designer—” I start, then fumble. Apparently this is how I behave when encountering a famous movie star. “She works here.”

“She’s my sister,” Jaxon says proudly.

Nicola’s eyebrows lift. “Oh! I’d love to meet her. Are these available in stores?” She snaps another picture.

“Not yet,” I say quickly. “Soon.”

“Well, I’ll grab these for now.” She adds a matching tank to the pile and heads toward the counter. “My husband’s fishing at Lobstick,” she explains, clearly reading the question on our faces. “Fishing isn’t my thing, so I came to check out the social. Theresa—the hotel manager—told me about this place.”

“She’s my aunt,” I blurt.

Nicola grins. “Small town.” Her smile is dazzling as she glances at the posted yoga schedule. “Do you think I could join a class on such short notice?”

“I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem,” Jaxon says. “There’s one starting in about ten minutes.”

Right on cue, I spot Jami and wildly wave my arms.

“That’s Jami, my sister,” Jaxon explains and points. “She also teaches yoga.”

Jami hesitates when she sees me—which sends a shard of worry straight through my chest—but then her gaze lands on Nicola. Her eyes go wide when she notices the clothes in Nicola’s hands. Jesus, she looks like she might actually faint.