“Screw them.”
“Who?”
“Whoever made you feel that way. And you’re right; you’re better off now, seeking your passion. You’re doing great work as a writer and blogger and your articles are well written and—”
“You’ve been reading my articles?”
For the first time, I feel…caught off guard, maybe a little embarrassed. Not because she might think I’m stalking her or something, but because my giddy little rambling session after complimenting her beauty just painted me like some love-sick idiot who can’t take the hint she’s been dishing out to me since I’ve known her. I take a drink of my water to stall, but her penetrating gaze waits. “I don’t know. Maybe a couple…” Couple dozen. My favorite are the ones she’s championing a cause like equal pay or putting light on important topics like diversity and women’s rights. “Look we’re way off topic here. I’ll do whatever I can to help deal with your parents and the agency, find volunteers, whatever, but being in the show? Maybe I could—”
“What’s the big deal? It’s one show.”
“You’re making me feel like a piece of crap if I don’t do it.”
“Well…” She tilts her head. When I frown she adds, “Your turn now. Why did you leave modeling?”
“The only reason I got into modeling in the first place was because I needed money. I had no motivation to do anything when I lost my football scholarship due to repeated injury.”
“That must have been tough. I didn’t know…”
I’d hate to admit to Kaylee that I dropped out just shy of graduation. Or that modeling took me down a destructive path I don’t want to revisit. I shrug like I’m over it. “Modeling…and that life… It’s just not me and if I go back, even for one night…it just wouldn’t feel good is all.”
“I get it. Look, you’re an adult. Don’t do it if it’s going to compromise you or whatever. But I don’t think you want to tell Daven, or Curtis, no now, do you?”
She forgot the fact that I also don’t want to disappoint her. “No, I don’t.” I blow out a breath.
“Okay then. And if I do it, then you have to.” She reaches over to my plate and steals a fry; the small personal gesture makes me grin.
“Oh, Kaylee Sumner is putting her foot down?”
“That’s right.” She eyes me then, like for once, she’s trying to gauge what I’m feeling.
“Fine.”
“And you can help me talk to some of the models you still know at the agency. You’re more convincing than me or even my mom.”
I lean over and cover her hand with mind, our touch charged. “Was that a compliment?”
I catch a quick light in her eyes before she pulls her hand away. “Hardly. “
“If I do that, then you have to do me a favor.”
She scoffs. “That depends. What is it?”
I eye her across the table, the wheels spinning in my brain. “I need a date for dinner.”
“You’re full of it.”
“I’m not. My oldest brother, Mason, and his wife are in town for an art show she’s part of. I promised to go to dinner with them, and I don’t want to feel like the third wheel.”
“So take Turner.”
“Seriously?”
“Are you telling me that you, Justice Bridges, can’t skim through your black book and come up with someone?”
“Of course, I can. But, it’s just…” I’m not sure how much I should say, given that the reason would either impress her or make her think I’m some sort of pussy. “…I look up to my brother. And his wife and I are good friends.” Kaylee shows a quick reaction to that but hides it away. “They mean a lot to me. My whole family does, really. But I’ve always been the screw up in the family, and I haven’t been the best at picking dates either…” I thought for sure my sincerity would make a dent in her, but she’s still staring at me. “Come on. Are you going to make me beg?”
She tilts her head but when I toss my napkin on the table and pretend to get up, she throws up her hands. “No! Fine, I’ll go.”
Chapter 7
Kaylee
I walk into the quaint LA gallery, regretting not having Justice pick me up. He offered but that just felt too much like a date, so I told him I’d meet him here. I don’t consider myself socially anxious, but if I don’t have a wingman, unfamiliar settings make me uncomfortable. I could have brought Koko, but according to Justice, I agreed to dinner and this event. If I’m being honest, I didn’t fight him because for some strange reason, the thought of spending more time with him was not as unpleasant as I expected.
I stroll around the perimeter, checking out the art on display. I remember Justice saying the name Ari, and the piece I stop in front of is from an artist named Ari Mendez. Maybe it’s her maiden name. I’m not sure who the man is in profile, but the emotion from his gaze and the set of his jaw is powerful. She’s clearly talented, and I wonder if that’s why Justice seems to like her so much.
I continue on and make my way toward the back room. There’s not a lot of people here yet, but it’s still early in the showing. When I spot Justice, I hang back because he’s just been approached by an attractive woman with a thick mane of black hair, whom I’m guessing is his sister-in-law based on the way they’re greeting each other and her protruding yet adorable belly expanded under her wine-colored dress. She takes his face in hands and kisses his cheek, then he sweetly touches her tummy as they smile and chat.
I know I should go over instead of standing here lurking, but I don’t want to intrude and honestly, I feel a little awkward on this pretend date. I figure I’ll wait until she walks off, but as soon as she does, a man steps up to Justice and gives him a hug. They pat each other on the back and I instinctively smile, knowing that’s his brother.
Ari catches my attention when she walks by me, her expression completely opposite than a moment ago. Her brows are knitted and her hands are draped over her belly. Concerned, I follow her into a small room with a couch, TV, and paintings on the wall.
Her back is to me so when she turns, she startles. “Sorry, this isn’t part of the show.”
“I know. I just saw you and you seemed… Is everything okay?” I drop my chin and move my eyes to her stomach.
Her eyes go wide. “Oh, no. Everything’s fine. Just a little nervous.” She gives a smile and lets out a quick rush of breath. “My first real, big showing.”
“That’s understandable. Can I get you anything? Water?”
“That’s sweet. I’ll be fine. I just don’t want to let anyone down.”
“Well, you are good enough to be the lead artist in a show. I saw that first painting by the door. It’s breathtaking.”
“Thank you. My grandfather is a painter. Well known in Mexico, so I sort of set a high bar for myself. I want to make him proud. And my family, of course. I don’t know why I’m sharing all this, but here you are…”
“I’m glad to listen. And I’m sure they are very proud of you. But as long as you’re happy with what you’re doing, isn’t that all that matters?”
She laughs. “So simple…but yeah, that makes sense. Thank you.”
I smile, not as much because I helped her, but because I can see why Justice likes her. Some people just have an endearing way about them. “You’re welcome.”
“I guess we should go back now.” She gestures toward the door.
“Sure.” I hold my hand out as she comes forward. “I’m Kaylee, by the way.”
“I know.” She grins. “I recognized you from your picture.”
“Picture?”
Her brows go up as if she shouldn’t have said anything. “Justice showed us some pictures…from the agency. Some of him too,” she says on a high note, as if justifying it.
Maybe I should feel it wasn’t right for him to do that or wonder why, but all I feel is excited. “It’s okay. And for what it’s worth, Justice thinks very highly of you. I know he’s proud of you.”
“Funny, I was going to say the s
ame thing about you,” she says, walking out the door.
Before I can even process her words, there, waiting for us, are Justice and his brother. Quick introductions are made before Ari is whisked away by the gallery owner to meet some of the guests.
Since she needs to stay at the exhibit until nine and then we are going to dinner with them, Justice and I decide to take a walk.
The streets of LA are almost never quiet, but depending on the area, you’ll get anything from lively partiers to lurking people you might not feel safe around. Which is why I don’t flinch or say anything when Justice takes my hand as we pass a group of young men hanging out on the street. They look me over as we pass and Justice picks up our pace, glancing at them over his shoulder.
I wasn’t worried, but I have to admit his protective instincts had my heart warm and racing. When we are a good distance away, he looks down at our hands and pulls his away. “Sorry, I…”
“It’s okay. I appreciate you…being careful.”
“Yeah, you just never know.”
When he does a double take and frowns, I ask him if something is wrong.
“If I was really being careful, I wouldn’t have brought you out to the street at night. “
I giggle. “I’m not that delicate, and I can take care of myself. Plus I’m enjoying the air and the walk.”
“Me too. There’s a cool bar a little farther. We could go in for a bit?”
“Sure.”
We walk past other businesses, some showing a closed sign in the window, before there’s a break in the sidewalk. As we both step off the curb, our heads turn to the alley on our left. I catch sight of the make-shift house, a tattered sneaker sticking out from what looks to be a small tent covered with other material. Seconds later, we step back onto the curb and exchange sympathetic expressions. The homeless in LA is at epidemic proportions, so prevalent that people have become accustom to seeing it, equating it with this area like the Hollywood sign. My heart goes from sadness to guilt as we continue on to the bar, planning to enjoy a drink and some warmth. Then, to my surprise, Justice stops short in front of a dry cleaners and turns to me.
He nudges his chin up ahead. “There’s the place. Mulligans. Why don’t you grab us some seats at the bar and I’ll be right there?”
I glance over my shoulder and see the sign he’s referring to. “Why?” I have a feeling I know, but I need to make sure what he’s thinking.
“I just need to take care of something. I’ll be right behind you.” He gives me a smile I know is forced.
“Justice. If you’re going back there, I’m going with you.”
He runs his hands through the golden waves on the top of his head, and I’m suddenly wondering what that mane would feel like slipping through my fingers. His words snap me back to reality. “Kay, we just talked about this not being the best area.”
I stare into his deep blue eyes for about five seconds, almost getting lost. “I’m not just going to sit there like I don’t care.” I push past him and head back toward the alley.
“Kaylee,” he says, rushing to my side. When we reach the alley, he steps in front of me, then gives me the eye over his shoulder. “Just stay behind me, please.” His tone sounds annoyed, but his protectiveness makes me dizzy and warm.
Justice kneels down next to the humble setup, which has a dark wool blanket draped over the top like a flap on a tipi. “Excuse me?” When whoever is in there doesn’t answer, Justice glances over at me questioningly.
I tick my head up for him to try again.
“Hello?”
“He’s not going to answer,” a female voice says.
Both Justice and I look around, then he scoots to the side, tilting his head around the old nylon structure. I can tell by his expression he’s found the source. “Hi,” he says in a gentle way. “I’m sorry if we’re…invading your space, but we wanted to check on you.”
I step over instinctively, assuming a woman would feel better with me there. Sitting on an upturned bucket, she’s dressed in worn jeans and, strangely, a UCLA sweatshirt that has seen its better days. Trash is strewn around the area along with what looks like a small cooking stove. I wonder if it even works.
“My alma mater,” Justice says, smiling and gesturing to her shirt.
“Yeah me too. Majored in Economics.” She chuckles.
Justice does too, but then there’s an awkward pause.
The woman runs a hand down her dirty blond hair. “Check what?”
“Is your friend okay?” I ask, gesturing to the leg still sticking out of the tent.
“Yeah, he sleeps a lot. Not much else to do.”
Justice stands and we exchange glances, both of us wary and unsure what to do. It’s not like we planned this or thought it out. “I’m Justice.” He nods and smiles but keeps his distance. I’m sure he doesn’t want to scare her.
“I’m Kaylee,” I say, giving a little wave.
“Stella.” She ticks her head up and then laughs. “Are we done yet?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “What do you mean? We just want to see how we can help.”
“Not too many people step into this alley. Some even speed up as they go past that opening. I figured you two were curious or something.”
“Stella, what can we do to help you…and your friend?” Justice says, glancing toward the tent.
“You going to invite the fifty thousand people on the streets into your home? Build some shelters? Get people to care?”
I understand why she’s defensive, but we’re only trying to do what’s right. Find some way to make her day better. I step up closer to Justice, our arms touching. “We can’t begin to understand what you’re going through or have been through, but we’re just two people who care. Can we at least give you some money?”
Stella looks down at her hands and then back up, eyes softer. “I’m…sorry. You get used to being on the defensive out here with the…outsiders.”
The description strikes me because that’s how they’re often viewed.
Justice reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. “Okay?” he says, holding it up in front of him.
“Sure. That would be very generous of you.”
I unzip my purse and pull out my wallet as well.
“Crap,” Justice whispers and I look up. “He pulls out a five and three ones, showing me his wallet is now empty.
Stella shakes her head. “Hey, it’s cool. Anything helps.”
I filter through my wallet and find I’ve only got twenty-five dollars. I hand it to Justice to add to his money and Stella stands, hesitantly. He steps forward and hands her the bills.
“Thank you. Really.” She executes a few quick nods as if she’s nervous or excited. “I’ll be sure to share with Danny. He’s sort of my partner out here.”
“You take care of yourself, Stella,” I say, then tug on Justice’s arm. He seems hesitant to leave. I get the guilt, but we’ve at least done something. He’s still staring at his empty wallet. “Come on,” I whisper.
“Wait.” Flipping the wallet flap back so it’s overextended, he reaches a finger underneath the small space where you could fit a credit card and retrieves a small, folded bill. “I forgot. My gramps always told me to keep emergency money hidden so you forget about it and don’t spend it.” He looks up at me, delight and triumph traipsing across his face as he unfolds a twenty-dollar bill.
I grin at his excitement, but I also wonder what his financial situation is. “You don’t have to,” I say quietly.
“I know. I want to.” He turns back and steps over to Stella, handing the bill to her without a word.
“Bless your heart, Justice.” She touches his arm.
He places his hand over hers. “Take care, Stella.”
Justice and I leave, but instead of turning toward the bar, we head back to the gallery—neither of us feels like drinking.
***
My stomach grumbles, loud and unexpectedly, as the four of us sit at a cozy table in
the back of an upscale Italian restaurant. We’ve already ordered drinks, but if I don’t get some food in me, I might say something stupid. I knew we were eating late, after the showing, but I didn’t realize the emotion of meeting part of Justice’s family and the little adventure we took in the alley would take such a toll.
Justice eyes me at the sound, then pretends to be flagging a waiter. “Uh, we have an emergency over here.”
I grab his arm and force it down. “I’m fine.”
“Sorry we had to eat so late,” Ari says.
“Please, I don’t mind at all. I’m so glad I got to see your work and meet the two of you.”
“It’s great to meet you, Kaylee,” Mason says with a grin that turns smug when he shifts his gaze to Justice. “It’s not often my little brother has time for us, let alone inviting someone special with him.”
I couldn’t help the smile that sprang forward from his words. But his next statement catches me off guard.
“So, how long have you two been dating?”
My reflex when it comes to Justice takes over before I can stop it. I cough. “Oh, we’re not dating,” I say on a sarcastic chuckle.
“Wow, thanks, for that.”
The look on his face makes me regret my words. He’s never had this serious of a reaction to this thing we do—crap, we’re supposed to be done with—whatever it is. It has been better lately, with both of us trying to stick to our agreement; yet here I am, reverting back right in front of his family. My face flushes red and I stammer to back pedal. “We just… Well, we’re doing this project and—”
The server takes that moment to drop our drinks on the table; I don’t know whether I feel rescued or devastated I couldn’t make this right. So much for not saying something stupid. The moment he sets my wine in front of me, I take a healthy sip. Mistake number two. All three of them are holding their glasses up and looking at me.
“A toast,” Justice says and eyes me expectantly.
Shit. Maybe Stella and tent guy have room for one more. “Crap, sorry.” I pass my gaze around the table in an attempt to gauge how much everyone hates me right now. “I’m usually not this rude, really.” I hold up my glass and drop my chin.
Beautiful Bridges (Bridges Brothers Book 3) Page 6
