Falling For The Right Brother. Kerri Carpenter
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rolled her big emerald green eyes. “That’s your fault then. The Blogger was simply reporting the truth.”
He moved away, mumbling something under his breath that sounded a lot like “damn busybody.” Riley smiled and turned her attention back to Elle. “Are you excited to be back?”
“I guess.” She couldn’t hold in a long yawn. “Sorry. I’m jet-lagged.”
“Living in Europe for six years. That’s so glamorous. What did you do there?” Riley added a couple packets of sweetener to her latte and then sat back with a moony look on her face. “I imagine you lounging at cafés for hours with hot Italian men hanging on to your every word. I see plates of sinful pasta and caprese salads and you drinking amazing wine while tourists rush into the Duomo behind you.”
Elle laughed at the imagery. “The wine part’s true enough.” She leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “But you forgot about the shoes. Oh, the amazing designer shoes.”
An appreciative sigh escaped Riley’s lips. “You’re killing me. Hashtag, jealous.”
After sampling her bagel, Elle took another sip of coffee. “I wish I could tell you it was all play and no work, but truthfully, I did have to make a living. Even in a country as laid-back as Italy, they tend to expect payment for things like housing and food.”
“Sticklers.” Riley shook her head. “What did you do?”
“My last job was at an up-and-coming gallery right around the corner from the Duomo. But I’ve worked in a ton of museums there.”
Riley looked down. Noticing Elle’s sketch pad, she pointed at it. “Are you an artist, Ellie Owens?”
There was a certain awe in the question that filled her with pride. “It’s a hobby, and actually, I go by Elle now.”
“No more Ellie?” Riley cocked her head.
“Let’s just say I retired her a long time ago. So, what do you do now?”
Riley ran a hand along her plaid computer bag. “I’m a writer.”
Elle smiled. “That would explain the colorful descriptions. What do you write?”
“I’d like to write the next great American novel. Or at least a really juicy romance novel devoured by women at every beach in the country. But for the moment I’m a reporter with the Bayside Bugle. I write for the Style & Entertainment section.”
Something from earlier niggled at her brain. “Wait a minute.” Elle put her bagel down. “If you write for the Bugle, you must know who this Bayside Blogger is.”
“I wish. I have friends that have offered me big money to reveal her identity. Sadly, the only person who knows is our editor in chief, Sawyer. He’s also received offers of money, concert tickets, home-cooked meals, you name it. But he won’t budge.”
“Sawyer Wallace? Wasn’t he a couple years older than us in school?”
“Two,” Riley confirmed.
“Didn’t he drill a hole between the boys’ and girls’ locker rooms once so he could get an eyeful?”
Tony chuckled from behind the bar.
“Annoying then and annoying now. He hasn’t changed.”
But Riley’s face did. Elle couldn’t help but notice her cheeks redden. Interesting. As interesting as the fact that she’d just spoken more to Riley Hudson in the last ten minutes than all of high school. Not that Riley had ever been mean to her. But they’d run in very different circles.
The bells above the door jingled and in walked none other than Cam Dumont. Elle looked up as Riley waved a hot-pink nail-polished hand and called, “Hey, good-looking.”
“If it isn’t the girl trying to turn Bayside into her own version of sophisticated Manhattan,” he replied.
“One small step at a time. Speaking of elegance and style, I got the invite to your mother’s Printemps soiree. You know I’ll be there.”
“You and the rest of the planet.” Cam rolled his eyes and turned toward Elle. “Morning, Elle.”
“Hi, Cam. Nice to see you again.”
He moved to the counter and placed an order for an extra-large coffee to go. While he talked with Tony, Elle couldn’t help but notice once again the way Cam’s worn jeans clung to certain places in a really awesome way. In fact, now that she was observing, she had to admit that with his tall, muscular body, slight stubble on his chiseled face and too-long dark hair, Cam Dumont was a nice healthy dose of man candy. No wonder she kept thinking about him last night. And this morning.
She could only imagine that when he got to work and slung a tool belt around his waist he would become even more appealing. And maybe if it was a hot day and he needed to take off his shirt...
“So, Elle, have you seen Jasper yet?”
Elle sloshed the remainder of her espresso onto the newspaper. She accepted the napkins Riley offered, even as she became aware that Cam, Tony, Brody and the table of older men sitting on the other side of the room all turned in her direction at the question. She felt she should have some grand, detailed story to tell Riley in answer, when really the truth was simple. “Nope,” she said softly.
“Well, you’ll definitely see him at the Printemps party tomorrow night.”
“Actually, I’m not going to the party,” Elle said.
Riley appeared taken aback, as if Elle had just reached across the table and slapped her. “Excuse me? Hold the presses. Why in the world are you not coming tomorrow?” Her hands gestured wildly and her mouth went into a pout.
Elle laughed. “For one thing, I wasn’t invited.”
“But your dad probably was. Oh, by the way, I’m so sorry to hear about his cancer. How’s he doing? You have to come tomorrow,” she continued, without taking a breath. “I’ll introduce you to the new faces of Bayside. Not that there’s many.”
Blame it on the jet lag, but Elle didn’t know if she could keep up with Riley.
“Oh, my God, there’s this guy I should totally set you up with. I mean, unless you’re still stuck on Jasper.”
Cam cleared his throat, calling both women’s attention to him. “Uh, yeah. I’m supposed to invite you to the party tomorrow.” He didn’t meet her eyes. Instead, he looked into his cup of coffee as if it held all the answers of the universe.
Jeez, Elle thought. Could he be less excited? He made it sound like he was inviting her to a mass murder.
“Aww, Cam, are you inviting Elle? That’s sweet.”
“I’m not. My mom wanted me to.”
Even better. And why did it bother her that he wasn’t the one inviting her to the party? “I probably shouldn’t go,” she began.
Eyes shining, Cam let out a huge breath. Then he took a long swig of coffee. “Yeah, probably better.”
Hold on, did Cam not want her to go? Why the hell not? Because of the video?
Buoyed by a sudden stubbornness, she said, “You know, on second thought, maybe I should stop by. I mean, since your mom extended the invitation to me and all.”
Riley clapped her hands together in quick succession. “Yeah.”
Cam’s face fell. “Are you sure? It’s, ah, a formal, black-tie kind of party.”
“Not a problem. I recently bought a gown when I was visiting Milan. It’ll be just perfect for the occasion.”
Did he think she couldn’t afford a gown or something? That she’d never been to a formal party? She may not have a bank account like his but, hell, who did? Besides, Elle couldn’t