Page 127 of The Defender
Brooklyn snorted out a laugh.
“Brooklyn, please. What have I said about making those types of noises?” Sienna admonished. “It’s unladylike.”
“I like it.” I set my menu aside and took a sip of water. “Being ladylike is overrated.”
Brooklyn snuck a quick glance at me. A small smile played around her mouth while her mother’s expression tightened.
“Everyone’s certainly entitled to their own opinion,” she said, her tone a touch cooler than before. “Let’s order, shall we?”
Five minutes with her, and she lived up to every expectation I had given what Brooklyn had told me about her.
The two of them bore striking physical similarities—the same golden hair and cornflower blue eyes, the same freckles and heart-shaped face. But that was where the resemblance ended. Whereas Brooklyn was witty and empathetic, her mother was the exact opposite.
Sienna spent the majority of the meal talking about herself—the nursery she’d built for her new baby, the personal trainer she’d hired to whip her back into shape after she gave birth, the shopping spree she’d go on once she lost her pregnancy weight.
I’d tried to meet her with an open mind, but if it weren’t for Brooklyn, I would’ve jumped off the roof by now.
“I can have my stylist pick out some items for you, darling,” Sienna said. “You’re always in activewear. That’s for Pilates, not the public.”
“Wearing comfortable clothing is part of my job,” Brooklyn said.
“Which is why I don’t understand why you chosesportsnutrition.” Her mum wrinkled her nose. “You have my looks. You could’ve been a model or an actress.”
“I didn’t know you were a model and actress,” I interjected smoothly. “What were you in?” During our pre-brunch briefing earlier that morning, Brooklyn told me Sienna had worked in marketing before she met her current husband and quit her job.
Sienna’s mouth pursed. “I didn’t sayIwas.” It clearly pained her to admit it. “I said Brooklyncould’vebeen one of those two.”
“Because she has your looks. But you also have your looks, so why didn’t you go into modeling or acting?” I paused before adding, “I’m sure Hollywood would’ve loved you.”
She stared at me, obviously trying to figure out whether my last statement was a dig or a compliment.
“It didn’t work out. I had a child to raise,” she finally said, somewhat pointedly. Sienna turned to Brooklyn, shutting me out. “Howisyour job going? Have they promoted you yet?”
Brooklyn’s smile flickered and died. “Um, they offered me a permanent position at Blackcastle, but I turned it down. I’m between jobs at the moment.”
I expected her mother to flip out. Instead, her eyes lit up like she’d won the lottery. “Are you switching fields?Finally! I know a wonderful photographer who can set you up with test shots. You don’t have the high fashion look, but I bet they could get you a commercial booking?—”
“I’m not switching fields.” Brooklyn sounded tired. “I still want to be a nutritionist. I just can’t stay at Blackcastle.”
“Oh.” The other woman pressed her lips together. “I don’t understand. Then why not stay at Blackcastle?”
“It wasn’t the right long-term fit.”
It was as though the conversation had sent out an alert to the universe because less than a minute after they brought up Blackcastle, a youngish-looking guy with a short blond ponytail bounded over from a nearby table.
“I’m so sorry to bother you while you’re eating, but are you Vincent DuBois?” he asked.
I nodded, already knowing where this was going.
His face broke out into a wide smile. “Iknewthat was you! Do you mind if we grab a selfie? I’m a huge fan.”
“Sure.” Some footballers refused to entertain fans during their personal time, but what the hell. We were in San Diego. There weren’t a lot of football fans here—though it was a weird coincidence to run into one at brunch—and no one else seemed too bothered by my presence. It was only a problem if the selfie turned into a photo line.
When Ponytail Guy left, Sienna put the pieces together.
“Oh, you’re asoccerplayer. That’s where I know you from.” Based on her tone, she had a lower estimation of my career than she did a wad of gum on her shoe. She slanted a glance at Brooklyn. “I should’ve known. It’s always about soccer.”
“I’m not dating him because of his job, Mom. We met at Blackcastle, but our relationship doesn’t revolve around football.”
