Page 2 of Show Off

“Do it,” Dal snarled, with cameras rolling. “Hell, I’ll make it easy for you—Icaused the fucking accident.” He struck his chest with a fist and faced the camera. “You heard me.I’mthe reason my parents got killed.I’mwhy Ji-Hoon lives in a fucking wheelchair. I was horsing around in the backseat like the twelve-year-old dipshit I was. You got that?” His dark eyes flashed on the screen. “That’s reality. No excuses. No sugarcoating. It’s the truth. And I’ve never fucking run from it.”

It was brave. It was honest. It was heartbreaking.

And it was damn good television, even with the bad words bleeped.

“Sound okay, Lana?”

I blink myself back to Dean’s question. “Chowder contest.” I consult my notes, which apparently I kept taking even as my brain wandered. “Ji-Hoon entered his brother’s coconut curry chowder in the Best of Oregon contest, but he wants it to be a surprise if Dal wins.”

Mari looks fretful. “I don’t like keeping secrets.”

Says the woman who kept a whopper from the guy she was banging. It’s all good, since the secrets spilled out like they tend to do, and she married Griff and had the cutest baby boy on earth. I lean over to tickle Sawyer’s plump cheek as Gabe speaks up.

“I think a secret about chowder is fine.” He takes a stroopwaffle from Cooper, who’s passing them out like blue ribbons. “We’ll break it to Dal on camera if he wins, and if he doesn’t?” Gabe shrugs. “No harm, no foul.”

“Moving on.” Dean clears his throat. “More ideas for gettingFresh Start at Juniper Ridgeinto the public eye?”

I’m full of ideas, thank you very much. Like the good little sister I am, I raise my hand.

“Yes, Lana?” Cooper points with the hand not gripping a stroopwaffle. “You have something to share with the class?”

I maturely do not command my brother to bite me. “Organic gardening’s very on-trend, and there’s a reporter atEntertainment Weeklywho owes me a favor,” I report. “I guarantee they’d do a puff piece if I ask.”

My siblings nod like I’ve thought up the cure for chronic hiccups. Could be they’re humoring me, or maybe it’s an excellent idea.

“We’re having dinner tonight with Tia.” Cooper grins, still tickled to speak aswe. Marriage suits him. So does having his pretty cop wife primed to bust out a baby any day now. “I can ask Tia if she’ll talk about her role in the gardens,” he adds. “She helped with agricultural setup.”

Mari bounces my infant nephew in his holster on her chest and Sawyer responds with a squawk. “Good idea.” She pats her son’s back. “Aren’t the gardens more Dal Yang’s domain?”

Aaaaand, we’re back to Dal.

“That’s true.” Lauren slides her eagle eyes to me. “He wanted more fresh produce in the restaurant.”

Big sister’s watching me, searching for clues to how I feel about Dal. She’ll have to do better because, dammit, I’m a professional. So what if his name plops a fizzy pink bath bomb in my belly?

“Tia consulted on the project, but Dal spearheaded it.” I meet Lauren’s piercing gaze with my perkiest PR smile. “And your husband built the deer-proof enclosure, so I’d love to include him in interviews.”

She smiles, placated, and I pat myself on the back. Knowing which buttons to push is part of my job. My key to public relations success. The reason I’m really fucking good at putting the best possible spin on anything life flings our way.

Almost anything.

My gut spits out the bath bomb with an uneasy lurch. There are parts of this job—this role as the Judson family’s official sunshine spinner—that I don’t love. So what? It’s not like my brothers and sisters lovetheirjobs all the time.

“All right then.” Big brother Dean folds his hands on the table. “I agree Dal Yang’s got the leading storyline this season. Let’s tee him up for that.”

Mari nods and types something on her laptop. “Let’s clear things with the appropriate parties and get rolling.”

We all stand up, assignments in hand. A figure of speech, since Mari’s plugging marching orders in our spreadsheet that tracks who’s doing what. Baby Sawyer flails his little starfish hand and gives me a toothless smile.

“Hey, buddy.” I tickle him under the chin as my siblings start for the door. “Got a kiss for Auntie Lana?”

Gabe bumps me like a butthead as he files past. “Auntie Lana sounds like a laxative.”

“Or an antidepressant.” Cooper slips into his Hollywood voice as they head for the door. “Now presenting Auntie Lana—may cause dizziness, fatigue, and anal leakage.”

Flipping the bird at my idiot brothers, I let Sawyer wrap a finger—index, not middle—in one chubby fist. “Who’s the cutest baby in the world? That’s right, it’s you!”

Mari nudges her glasses up her nose. “Did you have a question?”

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