It Happened One Summer (It Happened One Summer 1)

“No,” she said slowly.

“You are on it—and looking like a smoke show, bitch. Oh my God, the headline, Piper. ‘A Party Princess’s Vanishing Act.’ Everyone is freaking out.”

Her temples started to pound. “I don’t understand.”

“Go look at their Instagram. The post is blowing up.” She squealed. “The gist of the article is that you threw the party of the decade and then disappeared. It’s like a giant mystery, Piper. You’re like, fucking Banksy or something. Everyone wants to know why you went from Wilshire Boulevard to some random harbor. You didn’t even tag your location! People are dying for details.”

“Really?” She found a bench and fell onto it, trying to puzzle through the unexpected news. “No one cared yesterday.”

Kirby ignored that. “More importantly, they want to know when you’ll come back and reclaim your throne! Which brings me to the main point of my phone call.” She exhaled sharply. “Let me throw you a welcome back party. I’ve already got the venue lined up. Exclusive invites only. The Party Princess Returns. I might have leaked the idea to a few designers, some beverage companies, and they are offering to pay you, Piper. A whole lot of money to walk out in their dress, drink their shit on camera. I’m talking about six figures. Let’s do this. Let’s make you a fucking legend.”

A prickle climbed Piper’s arm, and she looked up to find Brendan standing a few yards away, holding her bag of jeans and a smaller one, which she assumed contained the cologne. He wasn’t close enough to hear the conversation, but his expression told her he sensed the gravity of the phone call.

Was the phone call that important, though? This rise in popularity would be fleeting, fast. She’d have to ride the wave as far as possible, then immediately start trying to find a fresh way to be relevant. Compared to the man she loved being out on a boat in a storm . . . or a wave coming out of nowhere and snatching someone off the deck . . . a trip back into the limelight didn’t seem that significant.

A month ago, this unexpected windfall of notoriety would have been the greatest thing that ever happened in her life.

Now it mostly left her hollow.

Was there a nagging part of Piper that wanted to fall back into this lifestyle she was guaranteed to be good at? Yes, she’d be lying if she said there wasn’t. It would be second nature to strut into a dark club to the perfect song and be applauded for accomplishing absolutely nothing but being pretty and rich and photogenic.

“Piper. Are you there?”

“Yeah,” she croaked, her eyes still locked with Brendan’s. “I can’t commit.”

“Yes, you can,” Kirby said, exasperated. “Look, I heard Daniel slashed your funds, but if you do this party, you’ll have enough cash to move out, do your own thing. Maybe we could even revamp Pucker Up now that you have some extra clout! I’ll buy you the plane ticket back to LA, all right? You can stay in my guest room. Done and done. I booked the venue for September seventh. Everywhere was already taken for Labor Day.”

“September seventh?” Piper massaged the center of her forehead. “Isn’t that a Tuesday?”

“So? What are you, forty?”

God. This was her best friend? “Kirby, I have to go. I’ll think about it.”

“Are you insane? There is nothing to think about. Paris is on my short list to DJ this thing—and she’s at the bottom. This is the one we’ll be talking about for the rest of our lives.”

Brendan was coming closer, his gaze laser-focused on her face.

I can’t tell him.

She didn’t want to tell him about any of this. LA Weekly. The party being planned in her honor. Her splashy new title. Any of it.

If she made a pro/con list of LA versus Westport, Piper loves Brendan would be in the pro-Westport column and that outweighed any con. They couldn’t discuss a potential return to LA without Piper revealing her feelings, and then . . . how could she do anything but turn the opportunity down after telling him those three words? But she wasn’t one hundred percent ready to say no to Kirby. Not just yet. If she said no to this triumphant return to the scene she’d lived for the last decade, she’d be saying yes to Westport. Yes to being with this man who endangered himself as a matter of course. Yes to starting over from scratch.

Kirby was rambling in her ear about a Burberry-inspired color scheme and a signature drink called the Horny Heiress.

“Okay, thanks, Kirby. I miss you, too. Have to go. Bye.”

“Don’t you dare hang—”

Piper hung up quickly and powered down her phone, hopping to her feet. “Hey.” She directed her most winning and hopefully distracting smile at Brendan. “You bought the cologne? I wanted to get it for you as a gift.”