“Why do you never stay with us when you’re in town?” She gave me a kiss on the cheek before we sat down at the table.
“I don’t want to impose.”
“Nonsense. We’d have more time with you.”
“Cousin, I have full confidence in your abilities to lure every single piece of news out of me in the hour we have today.”
She gave me a small smile. “Well, that’s true.”
Of course, half an hour in, we were both up to date, which was when Pippa brought up the subject of my love life.
“You know I’m always happy to lend a hand.”
“Pippa....”
She liked to dabble in matchmaking, especially during weddings. But instead of insisting, she sat up a little straighter.
“Wait a second... you’re up to something.”
Pippa could read people like no one else. She glanced at my hand, which was on my phone. “Hmmm... you’ve checked your messages quite a few times, and you’re not proclaiming as usual that you’re happy with your single status. Dear cousin, are you telling me officially that my meddling isn’t necessary?”
I was in a pinch. Whatever I told her would go straight back to my sisters, and things between Brooke and me were so fresh that I wanted to keep everything to myself for a while.
“Can I go with no comment?”
She gave me a knowing smile, and I was certain she’d inform my sisters about this right away. “That just answers my question. Someone has you all tied up in knots.”
As usual, Pippa was right. By the time I returned to LA on Thursday, I needed to see Brooke badly.
Chapter Ten
Brooke
On Thursday, the team and Dad returned in the morning. I arrived first at the small coffee shop where I was having breakfast with Dad and Franci, but they arrived within ten minutes. Dad was the only morning person out of all of us, but since he wasn’t very talkative, Franci and I filled in the silence. He’d always been like this, content to sit back and listen. I used the opportunity to assess him, and I was relieved to find that he didn’t have any dark circles under his eyes and he seemed well-rested.
Predictably, Dad became a little chattier when the conversation turned to my job.
“None of the boys giving you trouble, right?”
“No, Dad. It’s all good.”
“I know those devils. They like pretty girls like you. Though I think they’re all smart enough to know you don’t shit where you eat.”
I avoided his eye as I sipped my coffee.
Once I reached the club, I practically ran upstairs, stopping by my office to grab my legal pad to make notes, then dart
ing into the large meeting room where the entire management team was gathered. I was relieved that I’d arrived a whole seven minutes before the meeting was scheduled to start.
I sat next to my boss, who said, “When Graham asks for our department’s input, I want you to speak up, okay?”
I nodded, feeling a flutter of excitement. I’d volunteered to bring forward the department’s inputs at many a meeting, but this was the first time my boss had conceded. I’d just had a feedback session yesterday, and it had gone fantastic.
Usually, I disliked meetings with more than ten attendees. They tended to be unproductive, with each person fighting for airtime, derailing topics, and going off on tangential problems that weren’t on the agenda at all. Today’s meeting, however, was the complete opposite. It helped that we had a mediator who made sure no one was interrupted or went on for too long.
I was especially happy when Graham asked for my input.
“The club’s image is extremely well defined. I’d say that if we stretch it in too many directions, it might dilute that image, confuse the consumers.”