Page 39 of The Sebastian Guarantee
Phoebe flicked her gaze to the screen. “What about it?”
“Aria showed us how to do our makeup before the school talent show last year when we sang one of her songs,” Tula supplied. “We’re good at makeup.”
Phoebe focused on the tiny square with her image in the corner.Yowza!Maybe she did need some help in the cosmetics department. “I’ve got makeup. I just don’t wear it that often.”
“You don’t have to wear a lot of makeup. It’s how you wear it,” Tula replied.
Ivy nodded and brushed an errant lock of auburn hair behind her ear. “You want to pop. Eyes and lips are what I’d recommend.”
Oh,” Phoebe uttered. Eight-year-olds knew more about being put together than she did.
Tula leaned in, edging Ivy out of the frame. “You’ve got nice lips, Phoebe. You should play them up. Don’t you think, Sebby?”
Sebastian stared at her mouth. “Phoebe’s lips are nice, yeah. Very inviting,” he rasped.
Phoebe pulled at the collar of her trench. Had it gotten hot in there?
“Inviting?” Tula repeated and cocked her head to the side.
Unable to stop, Phoebe darted her tongue out of her mouth to moisten her lips.
“Not inviting.Bloody kissable,” he said, slipping into his old accent.
The breath caught in Phoebe’s throat as another reflex took over, and she clenched her core.
Stop that! No core clenching around Sebastian.
“Kissable?” Ivy and Tula said, then made grossed-out faces.
“No, not kissable . . .capable. Yes, Phoebe has capable lips,” he corrected, then tugged at his collar.
My God, there was a lot of collar tugging going on between the two of them.
“How are lipscapable?” Ivy pressed.
Phoebe had the same question. She parted her very capable lips, not sure what she would say, when she was saved by the bell—or in this case, her laptop that she’d left on the kitchen table. It pinged, alerting her to a video call.
Another one?
How many video calls was the universe going to throw at her and Sebastian this morning?
Then again, anything to end the kissable-lips topic was a godsend.
“Girls, someone’s calling me. Sebastian and I need to go. We love you both very much. Now get off this phone, enjoy your break, and . . .” She racked her brain. “Go supercharge your chi.”
“You can’t supercharge chi, Phoebe,” Tula remarked. “Chi justis. It’s either balanced or imbalanced but always present.”
“How about this?” Sebastian suggested, sounding more like himself. “Go take your balanced chi and muck out Beefcake and Plum’s stall. You do that, and the next time I see you, instead of getting triple scoops at the ice cream shop, we’ll defy gravity and ask for quadruple scoops.”
“Quadruple scoops!” Tula exclaimed.
“You’ll be a third-grade legend, Tula. I don’t know anybody who’s gotten four scoops on one cone,” Ivy insisted.
Phoebe and Sebastian exchanged a knowing look.
“After you’re done in the barn,” Sebastian continued, “grab a yoga mat, get into child’s pose, and reflect on what transcendental harmony means to you. Think about where you are in the metaphysical world and center yourself around that.”
Phoebe nodded, not understanding a lick of what the man said, but it sure sounded good. “Yeah, do that, too—all the metaphysical stuff,” she agreed as her laptop chimed again.
