Page 34 of Beautiful Exile

“Thank you.” I bent and unhooked Brutus’s leash since we were inside. “We should see about setting up a phone bank for the auction.That way, people who aren’t local can bid. Might come in handy if we get national attention.”

Denver stared at me for one beat, then two, before a huge grin spread across his face. “Think we could get in with that Upper East Side socialite crew?”

I tried not to let that one land. How many times had my parents talked about the new pieces of art they’d bought or ones they had their eyes on—art purchased with money that had cost them their lives? And for what?

Farah blinked at Denver a few times. “Upper East Side socialite crew? What are you, Gossip Girl?”

The two of them devolved into bickering like siblings, but Isaiah moved to my side, bumping my shoulder with his. “You okay? I can throw a fit and refuse to let any reporters be in your presence if it will help.”

I chuckled. “Thank you. But I’m okay. And it’ll be good for the auction to get some attention.”

“As long as you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” I glanced down at my watch. “Come on. Let’s get this show on the road. I have a tomato and burrata panini from The Mix Up calling my name.”

Farah smirked. “When isn’t a panini calling your name?”

“Never,” I shot back. “Because I’m smart.”

We all grabbed seats that Denver must’ve set out earlier and began working our way through tasks: music, staffing, the phone bank, show layout, and finally, food.

“I volunteer Arden as tribute,” Farah said. “She’s obviously very food motivated.”

I flipped her off. “I’m happy to tackle that. I can talk to Sutton and see if her crew at The Mix Up would be willing to cater.”

“I do love those devil’s food cupcakes,” Hannah said dreamily.

“Gotta find me a woman who looks at me like Hannah looks at devil’s food,” Isaiah muttered.

She flushed instantly and ducked her head. Hannah was theyoungest of all of us at twenty-three and easily scandalized by Isaiah’s comments.

“Chocolate over men, every single time,” I muttered.

As if I’d tempted fate, the bell over the door jingled, and a man stepped inside. But not just any man. One with dark hair and hazel eyes whose broad shoulders and muscular chest were practically on display in the pale gray T-shirt he wore the hell out of.

“Why are you stalking me, Cowboy?” I growled.

“He can stalk me anytime he wants,” Farah mumbled as Hannah choked on a laugh.

I shot Farah a glare. “And what would your boyfriend say about that?”

She waggled her eyebrows at me. “Welcome to the bedroom?”

Linc chuckled. “Thanks, I think.”

Brutus, the traitor, jogged right over to him, tail wagging. Linc crouched to greet him with rubs and scratches. Brutus licked his cheek, and Linc laughed, the sound so damn beautiful.

“Holy hell. I’d lick him, too,” Farah muttered.

“Hey,” Isaiah snapped, affronted.

She leaned over and patted his cheek. “Don’t worry. You’re still my favorite nude model.”

“That’s a little better,” Isaiah huffed.

I pushed to my feet and crossed to Linc and my traitorous pup. “What are you doing here?”

He looked up at me through lashes that were too gorgeous for his own good and only seemed to accentuate the deep green in his hazel eyes. “Haven’t you heard? I’m building a house.”

---