Page 79 of No More Secrets
She apologized profusely every time she had to leave his side, but Carter was content to watch her work. The event was an interesting concept. A new art gallery wanted a big launch for their grand opening and partnered with a magazine-favorite designer to host a small, exclusive fashion show in the gallery.
Clothes as art? Beckett would love this shit, Carter thought. He fished his phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture of an impossibly tall, bone-thin woman and a round, bald man examining a seven-foot canvas that looked like clowns melting in a campfire. He texted it to his brothers.
Jax responded first.How much is that ketchup and mustard smeared masterpiece?
Beckett’s response was, of course, more people-oriented.Someone get that woman a protein shake before she eats that little man.
Carter smirked.Just another Friday night in Manhattan.
Jax sent a picture of two sets of bare legs propped up on Carter’s coffee table as he and Beckett watched TV in the great room.Just another Friday night in Blue Moon.
You both better be wearing shorts, Hollywood. I don’t want ball prints on the leather.
The next picture came in a minute later. Jax and Beckett were wearing nothing but shit-eating grins and strategically placed throw pillows.
I hate you guys.
Carter stuffed his phone back in his pocket when Summer returned to him with a beer in hand.
“Are you taking selfies?” Summer’s eyes sparkled. She handed him the beer.
“Just checking on the farm,” he fibbed.
“Everything okay?”
He thought of the couch he was going to have to burn. “Nothing that can’t be fixed when I get back.”
She leaned in a little closer, and he felt his heart rate ratchet up a notch. “I’m really glad you’re here, Carter.”
“Me, too,” he said, running a finger down the flesh of her exposed back. “I like watching you work.”
Raised voices reached them. “Speaking of,” she craned her neck trying to get a better look at the commotion. “I’ll be right back.”
He watched the drama unfold from the safety of the bar. It appeared that a very good-looking man and a stunning woman were about to come to blows.
“Anastasia,” he heard Summer’s voice soothe. “You weren’t supposed to be here until ten, remember? After Alexi left.”
Voices rose and fell and the woman with the thick Eastern European accent pouted with her superbly enhanced lips.
“She’s something, isn’t she?” A trim man in tortoise shell glasses and a pinstripe suit pointed his glass of champagne at Summer. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up running the place someday.”
Summer now had Alexi and Anastasia posing for a photographer together. They weren’t smiling, but at least no blood had been drawn.
“Now she’ll have the fashion world in a tizzy wondering if those two are back together again. I’m Quincy, by the way.” He held out a slim, manicured hand and Carter shook it.
“Carter Pierce.”
“The Carter Pierce of Summer’s new article? Very interesting.”
They watched as Alexi pulled Summer into the picture. The man’s hand traveled down her back to cup her ass.
Carter started forward, but Quincy put a hand on his chest. “Hold on there, Tiger. She’s got this.”
Summer grasped Alexi’s hand firmly and removed it from her ass. She thanked the photographer for his time and turned to the model with bad manners.
“Here it comes,” Quincy said with the tiniest hint of glee. “The Summer Brush-Off. Sometimes it takes the dumber ones longer to get the message.”
Carter couldn’t hear what she said, but the color drained from the model’s face. He began nodding profusely. When Summer was finished, the man made a formal bow and hurried away.
