Page 13 of The Sexy Part
“Wine sounds great,” I say.
I leave my suitcase in the parlor and follow the women into a modern kitchen done in white with silver accents.
“Take a seat,” Mackenzie says, gesturing to a small round table.
I sit with my back in the corner like I always do. Just feels cozier that way. Safer. Mackenzie rounds up glasses, and Harper uncorks a bottle of wine.
They join me at the table. Harper pours. “It’s sauvignon blanc.”
“Sounds good,” I say.
After we all have our drinks, Harper raises her glass. “Drink up, bitches!”
“To friends,” Mackenzie says.
I clink their glasses, and we all take a sip. They look at me expectantly. I’m sure they’re curious about me. “So what do you ladies do?”
“I’m a graphic designer,” Harper says.
“I’m a partner in a high-tech security firm,” Mackenzie says, “with my cousin Owen, Shayla’s fiancé—”
“He’s my brother,” Harper says.
“And my other partner is a family friend, Nathan,” Mackenzie says.
“Nathan Brooks is death to every party,” Harper says. “I asked you to call him Nat so I can swat him away.”
“Nat, gnat,” Mackenzie says like that explains the mystery that is Nathan.
Mackenzie drinks some wine and says brightly, “I basically run the place, bring in new business, marketing, accounting, logistics. The guys install the security systems and secure tech. They used to be hackers. We have a good assistant, so that also helps.”
“I work in the city, but they let me work from home most days,” Harper says.
“How about you?” Mackenzie asks.
“I run an ad agency. It’s small. Just me and—” My voice catches unexpectedly, and I take a drink.
“Your ex,” Harper finishes for me.
I nod.
Harper shakes her head. “Damn, I don’t envy you living and working with the guy who just screwed you over.”
I press my lips together, a welcome anger returning. “He did screw me over.”
“Then you avoided a disaster,” Mackenzie says. “Better off without him.”
“Single’s where it’s at,” Harper says.
“I’ve dedicated my twenties to casual fun,” Mackenzie says.
“She means casual sex,” Harper says.
I laugh, surprising myself.
Harper gives me a conspiratorial look. “The worst part is, her mom’s a wedding planner and a born matchmaker. Mac’s rebelling.” Hailey’s daughter, of course.
“Mac is a truck,” Mackenzie returns. “I’m not rebelling. I just don’t believe in love.”
