FORTY-TWO
ROXIE WAS A lifeline. She hadn’t completely agreed to join Huddle Hope, but hadn’t discarded it as an option either. Who was she kidding? If it wasn’t for Roxie’s Breckenridge connection, she’d have signed on already.
Over the last three days, her newest friend had called six times. Other callers, she ignored. Roxie? She picked up. If the stories were even half true, Roxanna Kyst knew no limits. The woman was not about hollow threats. There was something about her, an openness, a welcomeness. She’d challenge anyone to dislike or discourage Roxie Kyst.
At least she was getting out now. Groceries, pharmacist, boring errands, but it was better than moping around the apartment. Walking down the sidewalk, she found herself checking the faces that passed by. No Breckenridges. Post-contact with that family, their tentacles slunk into every area of her life, her consciousness.
With a bag on her hip, another around her wrist, she fumbled in her purse to retrieve her ringing phone. Good, she needed a distraction.
“Hello?”
“Want to come to the club tonight?”
“Roxie,” she said and smiled. “You ask me that every day.”
“Eventually, you’ll say yes. Everyone does in the end. Take a break from job surfing and type my guy’s name into Huddle Hunt. That’s Z-A-I-R-N.”
She laughed. “And why am I putting your guy’s name into a search engine?”
“He’s hot. Really, smokin’ hot.”
Life got lighter with this woman’s support. “And you’re charging for viewings?”
“Oh, I would if I could, believe me, I would. Unfortunately, he believes in flashing it all over the place, wrecking my chances of exploiting his beauty. Lucky for you, it’s more of a sucker punch in the flesh. You’ve got to see him up close.”
And she might consider it, except… “Tripp lives in the building.”
“Unofficially. And he’s usually all for mending a woman’s broken heart with his spunk. Unfortunately, that doesn’t extend to his brother’s girls… I think. I’ve never seen verifiable evidence either way. If there was an exception to that rule, it would be Brant… if he could ever get a girl.”
“I don’t want to crash his party. I’ve cut ties with everything Breckenridge.”
“Until you come home to Huddle. Come on, honey!” Roxie whined. “Get back on the horse.”
“Horse?”
“Yeah, I’ll find you one, don’t worry, Toria’s vetted a lot of eligible men since she moved here. We’ll start you off gentle, find you a real nice steed to ride.”
The last thing she could think about was men or relationships.
“I’m swearing off dating.” Indefinitely. “I don’t have the energy.”
“So we’ll have a girls’ night. Freya would love to get to know you better. At the very least, you should come to dinner.”
“Dinner?”
“It’s Thanksgiving, honey. You promised you’d come over on Thanksgiving.”
She paused, scrutinizing the middle distance. “I did? Wait, it’s Thanksgiving?”
“Yeah, you didn’t notice the hullabaloo? Try going a few blocks over, there’s a big clue there.”
“I didn’t even…” She hadn’t even known what day it was. “Wow.”
“Yeah, men can do that to us,” Roxie said. “I’ve already sent a car. If you don’t get in it and come here, I’m bringing everyone to your place. There’s like fifty people here, do you cater? Should we bring chairs?”
Oh, God. “No, okay, I’ll come over, except—”
“Tripp’s at Breckenridge House. Think Alice would let her boys out of eating with the family?”
No, and it was actually reassuring to know that. “Okay, let me get changed.”
“Yay! Okay, Fernando says you have no allergies, right?”
“No allergies, but… aren’t you at—”
“Crimson Palace? Yes, but please, honey, you think I stuffed the turkey? With these nails? That would be a helluva place to lose my ruby. Come have some fun, honey. Anything goes here. I was drunk before noon, I’m not even sure which of the guys roaming around here I woke up with this morning… or which one I’ll go to bed with.”
She laughed. “Rox—”
“Dinner’s in an hour.”
The line went dead and her heart sped up. Less than a block from her place, she hurried to get inside. Her keys didn’t want to liberate themselves from—with another yank, she freed them from her purse just a few feet from her front door. The bag at her wrist cut into her, she hooked it over the handle to—the door opened.
She hadn’t even put her key in the lock and it gave under the weight of the bag. Weird, but—no, she sighed. Just classic her since she’d broken up with Darroch. God, she had to be more careful. What had he done to her brain that she’d forget to lock a door? Her! Oh, her life was a mess.
Thank goodness everyone was more interested in giving thanks than raiding her apartment. Putting her groceries away, it was nice to see something in her empty fridge again. Okay, so it was salad and wine, but something was better than nothing. Damn, had that really been her Thanksgiving dinner?
She tossed her things in the hamper and jumped into the shower, taking Roxie’s threat seriously. The car could arrive any minute and she didn’t have time to prepare as well as usual. Thank goodness there were no men in the equation.
Doing her hair and makeup downstairs, she only had to go up to the loft bedroom—why were there panties on the floor? Had she been so harebrained when waking up that morning? Two pairs on the floor and another hanging out of the drawer.
Damn, she needed to get with it. Thank goodness for Roxie, maybe a friend would help her right the ship.
The phone rang just as she was checking her lipstick.
“Yeah?” she answered, rushing to grab her shoes. “Hello?” No one said anything; the line had to be bad. “I’ll be downstairs in a minute.”
Shoes, purse, and one last look. What was she thinking? Going to dinner with billionaires? This wasn’t her life, had she forgotten that lesson already?
The phone rang again. “Hello?”
“Hello, I’m your driver. I’m downstairs.”
“Yeah, I just—” maybe he hadn’t heard her the first time. “Okay, one second.” Dinner. Locking eyes with herself in the closet mirror, she inhaled. “You can do this.”
Forget Darroch and the past. Forget her job woes and her family troubles. This was a day to give thanks… even when she didn’t have much to be thankful for.