by Lori Foster
“That must mean you don’t have a date.”
Ember gave her a slow smile. “No, but you do.” And with that, she closed the door.
Feeling militant and more than a little irate, Autumn walked over and flipped the lock, then yelled through the door, “I can get myself ready, by the way! I don’t need help.”
A loud “Ha!” came right back to her.
They needed more insulation in the walls, and thicker doors, obviously.
Frustration amplified the discomfort of her sweaty clothes and clammy skin. Honestly, she could put up with the idiocy of the Ralphs of the world every day for the rest of her life and it’d be easier than dealing with her family.
She really, like very badly, wanted to reopen the door and somehow intrude into Ember’s life. But Ember would probably just laugh and go on about her business.
Few things ever got to her. In almost every scenario, she was the life of the party, the fun girl, the one in demand.
Only one time had she ever seen her sister truly leveled, and she never wanted to go through that again.
They both had their father’s coloring with dark hair and blue eyes, but Ember had also inherited their mother’s fun-loving ways.
Autumn had her mother’s plump build.
She knew this because for most of her life her mother had pointed it out.
Give Ember a break. She’s a free spirit like me. But oh, Autumn, you poor dear, you got my big bones.
Yay. Lucky her.
Maybe she could add that info to all her social media.
Favorite movie: A Perfect Getaway.
Favorite music: Anything by Kid Rock.
Outstanding feature: Big bones.
As she walked away, she thought, Biggest flaw: Lets my family boss me around.
Right there, in the hallway leading to the bathroom, she stalled. No, she did not have to let them do that. For a while now, she’d been working on being more assertive. Largely without success, but hey, that didn’t mean she should give up.
So was it a bad thing to meet an old classmate who needed design work? No. Not if she didn’t make it weird.
Would she do it under Ember’s terms? Absolutely not.
She would get herself ready. She’d be professional but comfortable. By God, she had nothing to prove to her sister or to Tash.
And if Ember didn’t like it, too bad.
Autumn wouldn’t let it bother her.
With that decision made, she got moving again. She wanted that long-awaited shower, a comfy spot in the bed and then she’d read.
Pavlov followed her, staying in the bathroom with her while she showered and then lumbering into the bed beside her while she read the newest title from Karen Rose. She did love a scary romantic suspense story line, with an evil madman and smart characters. In fact, she got so engrossed in the lives of the characters, she forgot all about her sister and hunky guys from the past and her stupid big bones.
Not until midnight rolled around did she call it quits and close the book. Not an easy thing to do, but the alarm would go off early and she had a full day—a day that would now run extra late thanks to her sister.
Tash Ducker.
Maybe she’d let her sister give her just a few pointers.
* * *
“YOU’RE ALREADY MESSING up your hair.”
Putting away her dishes after a fast bowl of soup, Autumn said, “That’s why I usually put it in a ponytail. Any type of hairdo just falls apart.”
Tucking, smoothing and rearranging, Ember said, “If you’d let me use some hair spray...”
Shouldering away her sister’s busy fingers, Autumn explained, “Hair spray gets all gummy when I sweat.”
“Maybe you could try not sweating?”
Incredulous, she closed the dishwasher with a little more force than necessary and spun to face Ember. “Yeah, why don’t you invent a way for me to do that? We’ll sell it and make enough to save all the animals.”
“Don’t be sarcastic.”
Why not? Her sarcasm was almost as top-notch as her compassion. When Ember pulled a tube of something from her pocket, Autumn scowled. “Now what?”
“It’s just lip gloss. It won’t kill you.”
“I don’t like it. It tastes bad.”
“It does not.”
“Does if you lick it—and I can’t seem to keep from doing that.”
Rolling her eyes, Ember gave up and put away the shiny pink gloss. “Fine. Maybe you can make the ‘naked mouth look’ work for you.”
A rap at the screen door drew their attention, and Mike, their handyman, farmhand, do-everything guy-in-residence, grinned from behind the screen. His shaggy blond hair should have been cut weeks ago, and working in the sun left him a little too tanned—in a most appealing way.
All in all, he looked scrumptious—but better than his stellar appearance? He did great work with the animals, never complained, accepted living in the loft apartment over the barn and was always around when they needed him.
He winked at Autumn. “A naked mouth works for most men. Don’t let Ember tell you otherwise. And for the record, I think that stuff tastes bad, too.”
Ember’s eyes flared, then narrowed dangerously.
Uh-oh. Autumn hurried to the door and opened it. “Mike. What’s up?”
“I was going to ask you that.”
“Oh.” She gestured lamely. “I just have this appointment in a bit and Ember wanted to practice sprucing me up and—”
Hands in his pockets, he smiled. “I meant with our new members, the pigs. When did they arrive? You left too early this morning for me to ask you about them.”
Mentally slapping her own head, Autumn laughed. “Right. Matilda and Olivia.”
He went right past their names. “You do look great, though—but then, you always do.”
Resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at Ember, Autumn said a very smug “Why, thank you.”
“Her scalp sweats.”
Horrified, she gasped at Ember’s bald statement.
“Everyone sweats.” Indifferent, Mike shrugged, then took a jab. “Unless it’s different for princesses?”
Eyes narrowed at her sister, Autumn said, “I certainly wouldn’t know.”
“Most of us wouldn’t.” Ignoring Ember now, Mike asked, “Anything special you want done with the pigs? I saw that you fed them this morning before leaving, and I fed them the usual in the afternoon and evening. I’ve already visited with them plenty, too, and let them play under the sprinkler for a while during the hottest part of the afternoon. Is there anything else?”
God love the man, he’d silenced Ember so easily, she could almost kiss him. Well, except that he might misunderstand the gesture of gratitude. She adored Mike, but there wasn’t a speck of chemistry between them.
He and Ember, however... Different story.
Autumn went over the special diet she’d come up with for the pigs, and the area of the farm where she wanted them to get a little more freedom. “I have everything written down for you.” She snatched up the paper on the counter. “Most important, though, is that I want them to feel loved in their new surroundings.”
Hands in his pockets, he assured her, “Gave ’em lots of love. They’re already settling in.”
“Thank you. Seriously. You always go above and beyond.”
“It’s a wonderful place you’ve created here.”
Ember folded her arms. “She didn’t do it on her own, you know.”
“Few people can feel really good about their jobs, but I do.” Mike glanced at Ember, then dismissed her. “If you don’t need anything else, I figured I’d head into town for a bit. Tracy and Flynn mentioned the diner’s chocolate lava cake, so I promised to bring back two slices with me.”
Guilt made her frown. “Mom an
d Dad shouldn’t impose on you...but wow, that does sound good.”
His smile came big and easy. “It’s not a problem. Your folks keep me entertained.”
She could guess what that meant. “Mom gave you another sculpture, didn’t she?” Her mother unintentionally made sexually suggestive sculptures that left Ember and Autumn red faced more often than not. What should be one thing always ended up looking like something altogether different.
“I had to build a special bookcase to hold them all.” Winking, he headed for the door, and just before he stepped out, he added, “I’ll bring some cake back for you, too.”
Once the door closed behind him, Ember drifted toward it, looked out, then huffed. “He didn’t offer me cake.”
Autumn figured he wanted to offer her sister something else entirely. “Maybe if you were nicer to him...?”
“I’m nice to everyone.” Turning back with a grin, she said, “Next time we shear the sheep, I’m going to offer to give him a trim, too.”
“I like his hair longer.” It curled against his neck but didn’t quite touch his big shoulders.
“Because you, sister dear, are into the messy look.” Giving her a critical once-over, Ember nodded. “You know, Mike is right. You do look nice without a lot of makeup.”
“Dad calls makeup war paint.”
“Dad enjoys harassing Mom.”
“And Mom enjoys the attention.”
Ember hesitated, then released a long breath. “I’m sorry about mentioning your sweaty head.”
Good God, Ember made her sound like the Niagara Falls of perspiration. “I’m often outside measuring stuff, you know.” A lot of her design work was specifically geared toward kids’ rooms and play areas, but she also created outdoor living spaces, man caves, she sheds, converted garages and more.
“I work outside, too,” Ember pointed out.
“But you would never admit to sweating.”
“Very true.” She smoothed a long hank of Autumn’s hair, then let her hand linger on her shoulder. “Anyway, I’m sorry. It was a stupid thing to say. Mike makes me... I don’t know. Mean?” Liking that word, she nodded. “He makes me mean, but I should save my meanness all for him, not you.”
Of all the ridiculous things! “He’s an amazing employee. Why would you be mean to him?”
“He ignores me.”
Autumn snorted. “No, he doesn’t.”
“He treats me the same as the animals. Or—” she wrinkled her nose “—Mom and Dad. It’s disturbing.” Ember flagged a hand. “With you he jokes around, like you two are close pals, and I’m just a shadow hanging around.”
Sudden comprehension widened Autumn’s eyes. “You want him to be interested.”
“Maybe a little, but I shouldn’t have insulted you to get it.”
Especially since that tactic had backfired. Still a little amazed, Autumn said, “So you—”
“At least the jeans fit you instead of being all baggy.” She tugged on a belt loop, almost pulling Autumn off her feet. “And I like your shirt. That’s a good color for you.”
Glancing down at her own chest, Autumn admired the bright tangerine hue. Personally, she thought it added color to her cheeks. “It’s nice, right?”
“Very.” With a glance at the clock, Ember urged her toward the door. “If you don’t leave now, you might be stuck behind the train and then you’ll be late.”
Since Tash was on the other side of the lake, and it didn’t make sense to take the boat then walk several blocks, she’d have to drive around and that meant crossing the railroad tracks.
“Well, shoot.” She snatched up her big satchel of design materials, her portfolio to show previous projects and slung the strap of her loaded purse over her shoulder.
Ember surprised her by kissing her cheek. “Go get him.”
“Get the job, you mean.” This trip—nice shirt and all—wasn’t about anything else. “I’ll see what he wants first.”
Bobbing her eyebrows, Ember grinned.
“Stop that.” Determined, Autumn shoved open the door and hurried to her truck, aware of her sister standing there smiling like a sap...and looking like she knew a secret.
Don’t miss The Somerset Girls by New York Times bestselling author, Lori Foster!
Copyright © by 2019 Lori Foster
Sparks fly when two feuding TV presenters are thrown together to host a live morning show in Lucy Parker’s latest enemies-to-lovers contemporary romance.
Keep reading for a sneak peek of Headliners, coming soon!
October. A dark day in October.
There were scenes in life so gut-punchingly beautiful, they were impossible to do justice with words.
Like the final rays of the falling sun, glittering across the Thames as the river turned dark and impenetrable, a silken blanket of shadows.
The infinite wonder of the night sky, a stretch of potentially endless stars, the scope beyond human comprehension.
Or the video footage of the biggest wanker on British television single-handedly cannonballing his career in less than three minutes.
Life: just when you seemed to be heading down a path of total bullshit, the light would return, birds would sing, and your greatest professional rival would walk the social-media plank for the viewing pleasure of—Sabrina Carlton leaned forward to check the stats—over one million people.
It was the number-two trending video in London. Joy upon joy.
On the laptop screen, even the grainy resolution of the phone recording couldn’t disguise the sculpted angles of Nick Davenport’s face. The man had a jawline that could slice a diamond. Scores of people across the country regularly voted him into the Most Eligible lists, because they’d never met him in person, and an elderly woman had once tossed a pair of knickers at him, like he was the lost fucking Beatle. The camera loved him, and he had the regular paparazzi snaps to prove it. He probably painstakingly pasted them onto his main fan site every evening. She would not be swayed in her opinion that he’d created Nick’s Chicks himself.
However, she doubted that he’d be saving this video to his hard drive.
“The man has the charisma of a boiled egg.” Nick’s voice was hard-edged with scorn as the words came clearly through the computer speaker, dropping one by one into the heavy silence in the room. “And he inherited most of his fortune from family members who didn’t make decisions with their dick.”
Crossing her legs, Sabrina propped her chin on her knuckles and slid her glance sideways to where present, in-the-flesh Nick sat in the chair farthest from her own. His spine was a rigid straight line, and his usual plastic charm had iced over into a mask of imperturbability. The only sign of life on his face was the muscle moving in his jaw. If the footage of this spectacular error of judgment went on for much longer, he was going to grind his teeth into shiny white dust.
Without moving anything but his dark eyes, his gaze suddenly locked on hers.
His jaw started to tic to a faster beat.
On the laptop, the camera angle did a hasty swoop as the eavesdropping staffer holding the phone was forced to step farther back from the door of Nick’s dressing room in The Davenport Report studios. Sabrina’s stomach copied the flip-flopping motion. The sudden rolling blurriness was making her feel seasick, which really distracted from the epic vindication of this moment.
Unfortunately for Nick, the audio remained crystal clear.
“He’s a short-sighted, selfish ballsack masquerading as a human being,” past Nick continued curtly, and current Nick shifted slightly in his chair. His long fingers curled into a fist against the fine grey wool of his trousers.
“At the rate he’s going, he’ll strip the network to a bare-bones framework, devoid of either originality or quality. The morning show is already a ratings wasteland; now he wants to screw up the evening programming, as well.
I’d have more faith in the bloody goldfish at reception to head up the organisation proper—”
Hania Aronofsky, the executive head of programming, reached out and tapped the control pad, finally muting Nick mid-sentence. Something Sabrina would frequently like to do herself.
For long, fraught seconds, nobody said a word. Then, moving her hand to her mouth, Sabrina coughed. “Slow clap, Davenport.” With studious care, she smoothed down her leather pencil skirt. “Verbally eviscerating the big boss while on company premises, and without bothering to even close the door first. If you felt it was time for a career change, it might have been more politic to just type a letter of resignation.”
For the first time since they’d all been summoned into Hania’s office, Nick produced an actual expression. Which lowered the temperature of the already chilly room by another few degrees.
As it happened, she agreed with every scathing word he’d uttered about Lionel Grimes. The billionaire had thrown both their careers into stressful upheaval this year, after he’d acquired and merged their respective networks. Shortly thereafter, he’d confirmed his intention to streamline the two evening news-commentary shows into one, and do at least one of them out of a job. Their CEO was bumptious, rude, and intolerant, and he had a track record of using his media outlets to promote whoever was currently hanging off his arm.
However, regardless of the brutal truth in Nick’s commentary, there was a place to express that opinion in such colourful terms. In one’s head.
At every turn, Nick was determined to prove himself an arse.
Likely for the first time in his life, he had now become as silent as his frozen image on the screen. There wasn’t much he could say; the phrase “didn’t have a leg to stand on” had been invented specifically for this situation.
Hania was turning a pen in circles between her fingers. On each rotation, she tapped the end of it against the desk, and the rhythmic sound was like a clock ticking down. Possibly on Nick’s continued employment. “Not the wisest move in your career, Nick.”
