FORTY-FOUR
IT WASN’T ONLY the woman’s affable nature that got her in the mood, the wine helped. As did the Gin and It drink freely handed out to the women. God, it felt like a million years ago.
“Savvy!”
That call was way too bright and cheery for a morning after the night before. Was that Roxie? How did the woman stay so fresh and bright all the time? Roxie was a professional partier. Yeah, that had been repeated to her several times the previous night.
She couldn’t even remember getting to bed. But she had. Because she was in one. Sitting up, eyes barely open, the city view was very bright. Too bright. Oh, the city. That vista? This was Roxie’s penthouse.
“Whose idea was a car wash event in November?” she mumbled to herself.
“Up, shower, I’ll have your uniform brought in.”
At a guess, the “uniform” would be crimson. Roxie sure was big on branding.
Shower. Right. Slithering out of bed, her head dropped into a hand, why was it so heavy. It didn’t help that even when she got to the shower she couldn’t work the thing. There were spouts and sprays and rainfall and—who needed so many options in a shower? Even Darroch’s wasn’t so—no. No Breckenridges allowed in her brain.
Shit, last night, she said something about—oh, God, it was to Zairn Lomond. What were she and Zairn talking about on the couch? How had she even got on the couch? No one got on the couch. That startled her into a little more sense. Zairn… Zairn Lomond, damn, she’d poured her heart out to the world’s number one playboy. Why the fuck would he care about…? Here was hoping the guy could keep a secret… or had amnesia.
Her bed was made by the time she got out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her. Who made her bed? When was—they must have staff for everything. Her head rotated on her neck, scanning for any hint someone may be watching. How did they know she was up?
And what was…? Red sneakers on the floor by the end of the bed drew her eye. Oh, God, the uniform… Was that a shirt dress? Small mercies and all that. At least it wasn’t a… opening the shirt dress laid on her bed, the required bikini was beneath. Okay. She sighed. She shouldn’t be surprised, the Breckenridge team had discussed the same thing. Breckenridge. She swallowed. Darroch could be there. Not on her team, so he wouldn’t get too close, but it was the first time she’d be seeing him since…
“You better not be obsessing in there,” Roxie called. “Are you decent?” The hostess didn’t wait for her answer before swanning in. “Forget about him.” She came over to hug her. “Start charging rent if he’s taken up residence in your head.”
“How did you know I was—”
“Because we all do it, honey,” Roxie said, stroking her hair. “I obsess about Z all the time too.”
“You don’t obsess he’ll blindside you, or humiliate you, or that you might accidentally meet his eye and melt.”
“We won’t let you melt. You’re Team Crimson. Darroch won’t be allowed near you. No fraternizing with the competition.”
It was charity, not industry, but she appreciated Roxie’s solidarity. The Breckenridge teams would be head-to-head, as always. Having that competition go on while not being a part of it would be a first. She’d never thought it mattered to her, now she wasn’t so sure.
“How would we stop him? It’s a warehouse site. I don’t think we can bring security, people will need to drive in and out.”
“Oh, we’ll have security for sure. Ballard’s been out half the night casing the joint. Our equipment arrived early, that takes a while to set up.”
“Our… equipment?”
What equipment did they need for a car wash? Everything needed to wash cars was provided, soap, water, sponges…
“Mm hmm,” Roxie said with a glint in her eye. “You’ll see when we get there.” She got a squeeze. “Get changed quickly, you have to meet the rest of our team.”
“The rest of our—we’re only supposed to have six.”
“A maximum of six doing the washing at any one time. We’re allowed to have as many people on our team as we want. We’ll swap out.”
“And everyone else will just—”
“Keep the party going and round up more cars.”
“You don’t like half measures, do you, Rox?”
“Never met one that could handle me,” she said and kissed her cheek. “Now, come on, you need to have breakfast, this is going to be the hardest some of us have worked in a while.” She leaned in. “Sex doesn’t count as exercise, my personal trainer tells me. I think he only says it because if sex did count, what would Z and I need him for?”
On another laugh, Roxie faded out of the room. Uniform. Team. Okay. In the name of charity.
Getting changed didn’t take long. And when she departed her bedroom, she didn’t have to wonder where the party was at. The sound of laughter and conversation drew her to the gang.
And she wasn’t the only one wearing the uniform, thank God. All the faces from last night welcomed her. She approached the food spread on the kitchen island and those perched on stools around it. No Zairn, but… She stopped. There was a man there, one, and it wasn’t their host.
“Okay, no food fights,” Roxie said, rushing over to take her wrist. “Tripp is under strict instructions not to talk to you.” And the guy stood there, cup in hand, exuding more contrition than anger. His shirt was red, just like the women, only he had nothing on underneath. Well, shorts, he had red shorts. Guy could be a Baywatch extra… or superstar. “He’s here for the female element. Plenty of women with cars too. And, you know, he bleeds Crimson.”
Another reason she shouldn’t be there. “I shouldn’t—” A woman stepped from behind Tripp. Not that she’d been hiding, she put her cup on the counter and just stood there. “That’s Sway Sheridan.”
“Yes,” Roxie said, raising her loose arm. “Yes, see! Oo! Sway Sheridan, right there.” She leaned in. “You like Sway Sheridan? She selling it to you?”
“I didn’t see her yesterday.”
“Yeah, by design,” Roxie said, guiding her over to the island. “She was in the building, just chose to keep it low-key.” The hostess sighed. “You’re a fucking Queen, Sway. Since before I even knew what a Crimson Queen was. You have more right to be here than most of the freeloaders we catered to yesterday, me included. More right than him, he’s not a Queen.”
As the only man there, Tripp raised his cup in thanks. “Not for lack of trying, Rox Out.”
“I don’t know where the Rox Out thing comes from,” Freya said, licking her fingertips after selecting a croissant. “Should I know?”
“It came from London,” Tripp said. “When she—”
“Ah!” Roxie held up a hand. “What happens in London, stays in London.”
“Then you caught a break, Rox Out.”
“Does Zairn know?”
“He has a way of knowing these things,” Roxie said, grumpy like a petulant child. “I swear he drugs me and fucks it out of me.”
“You know, there’s a chance that’s true.”
“We’re getting close to—”
“Yes,” Roxie said to young Astrid. “Once a timekeeper, always a timekeeper. Thank God for you, Ast, where would we be without you? Late! That’s where we’d be. Buses are waiting, has everyone eaten? Grab food, fill up those insulated java lifelines, it’s time to go!”
Waving both hands, Roxie got everyone moving until catching something in the corner of her eye. The hostess immediately switched to go around to Sway.
So this was charity, Crimson style? She turned to follow the others, but someone snagged her wrist. Tripp.
“What do you want?” So much for not allowed to talk to her. “I didn’t know you’d be here. If you think this is some scheme to force your brother—”
“I know better than to ask where your head’s at,” Tripp said.
Nice of him not to insult her intelligence by playing dumb. “Good, so what do you want?”
“A truce. A peace treaty,” he said, setting his damn smile to smolder. “I’m friends with plenty of women, my exes, my brother’s exes, I’m Switzerland in these things. Anyone can talk to me about anything—”
“Roxie told me.” She relented a little. “You’re a priest.”
“ The Priest, but whatever…”
Relaxing, his exhaled laugh loosened her muscles. “I won’t pour my heart out to you.”
“I’m here, if you need to,” he said. “I don’t repeat what’s said or read between the lines.” He shook his head, oddly stern. “I don’t interpret, or game play, or meddle… like Roxie.”
“Like Roxie what?” the woman called, coming over, Sway’s hand in hers. “Hey! You’re not supposed to talk to—”
“It’s fine,” she said on a sigh. What was she going to do? Run and hide from the guy all day? “We’re fine.”
“You really are good, Priest,” Roxie said and made brief eye contact before leading Sway out, leaving her and Tripp alone.
“I listen, that’s it. Confess your sins, I’ll absolve you.”
“Did you absolve Darroch?” With a smile, he touched a knuckle to the front of her chin and walked past. “Tripp?” Turning around, her eyes followed him to the threshold of the room. “You don’t pass messages, okay, but…”
“Might make the exception when it comes to family.”
“Thank you…” She crossed to join him. “Could you tell Buoy I’m sorry I haven’t come over to color with him… please?”
“Buoy,” he asked, his face lighting to a grin. “Wow, kudos, that boy works fast.”
“I don’t want him to think I abandoned him. I miss him.”
“But not Roch?” he asked. When she recoiled a fraction, he took her hand. “Sorry, I get it. I wouldn’t date him either.” She slid her hand from his. “Buoy…” He got in her way when she tried to pass. “He’s never taken to anyone the way he did with you. Hasn’t let some of his brothers that close.”
“He’s a good boy, I miss him.”
“You don’t have to, Mom would have you over anytime.”
She winced. “It’s too…”
“I get it. If you want me to bring the little guy over to your place…”
And she believed him. That was a huge concession from someone unrelated to her who owed her nothing.
“Make sure he knows he did nothing wrong.”
“Sure thing.”
Their hands joined again as they walked out together. Strange he should be such a comfort. Roxie was right. No animosity. No anger or judgment, he just listened, accepted, and went on with his day. Priest.