Caleb shook his head, then glanced at his watch. “I’m already running late. Can you help her?”
Nathan glared as if Caleb had just stabbed him. “You didn’t seriously just ask me that.”
“Nate.” He gestured toward Didi. “As you can see, I have my hands full with this one.”
“Should I be insulted?” she asked Nathan, who granted her another one of those brilliant, almost-all-knowing smiles.
“Don’t mind Caleb. He was raised by wolves.”
She caught the tail end of Caleb giving his cousin the finger when she glanced at him, and she laughed. She liked them together. The air Nathan carried around him seemed to relax Caleb. They gave her the impression of being close. Being an only child and not knowing what it meant to have family other than her mother, loneliness pinched at her heart.
Must be nice to have a cousin to count on, she thought.
“I have to go,” Caleb said, drawing her attention. He was already backing up toward his car.
“I called Preston,” Nathan told him. “He’s fielding for you with Michael. You’re lucky JJ’s in court today.”
“Just get her there as quick as you can.”
“Give me an hour.”
Caleb stopped at the driver’s side and scowled, sending new waves of shivers through her. For that look alone she didn’t mind that he was leaving her with a relative stranger. Emphasis on the word relative.
“Thirty minutes,” he warned, then got into his car and drove away.
“What does he mean?” she asked the equally handsome boy she stood alone with in the driveway of the biggest house she had ever seen.
“How does a makeover sound?” He took her hand and led her up the steps.
“Is that your way of saying what I’m wearing isn’t right for the event?”
“Oh, honey”—he patted her hand—“remind me to sit down with you and give you the basics of thrift store shopping. Will save you a whole bunch of trouble in the future.”
“Okay, now that’s insulting.”
“It’s meant to be. Cute clutch, though. We might be able to work with that.”
How could she hold on to her building annoyance with the way he smiled at her? Caleb had asked her to attend these events with him. She didn’t want to break his rules. If she did, it would mean the end of her summer adventure and the chance of him posing for her. How many girls got the opportunity to enter his world? She had always been curious about how the other half lived, ever since she started working at the club. If he thought what she was wearing didn’t suit the event and that Nathan could help, then she would give herself willingly to the experience.
Maybe willingly wasn’t the right word.
In a stylish bedroom bigger than her house, Nathan sat Didi in front of a vanity mirror bordered with lights. She wondered who the room’s occupant could be and wanted desperately to meet her. It was such a beautiful space. One wall was cream with metal wall letters in teal that spelled out LOVE, framed pictures of fun memories and smiling faces hung on another wall, and a third wall had these different-sized mirrors with funky metal frames. But her favorite part had to be the bed. She had never seen one so big, overflowing with throw pillows that had funny quotes on them. She wanted to steal the one that said I’M NOT A LADY BEFORE 10 AM.
She let her gaze wander to the table of the vanity. It was filled with colorful bottles of perfumes, lotions, and makeup. Several different brushes sat in a crystal container at one corner. It reminded her of when she used to watch her mother get dressed for a night out with her dad. Her mom would sit in front of a mirror like the one at which she did now, but with only one light at the top, and begin “putting her face on,” as she had called it. A sense of warmth and comfort spread all over Didi at the memory from a time when everything in her life seemed perfect.
For the last five minutes Nathan had been staring at her reflection and running his fingers through her hair. Nerves bundled in her stomach. She was having reservations about the experience already, and they hadn’t even done anything yet.
“Um . . . Nathan,” she said when the silence got too intense.
“I’m about to become very intimate with your hair. I think that’s earned you the right to call me Nate.” He took the ends of the limp strands and examined them with a thoughtful frown. “What have you been using for shampoo? Detergent?”
“I just use whatever’s in the bathroom. Usually the latest no-name brand my mom brings home for five dollars a gallon.” She chuckled at Nate’s absolute horror. “Poor-people problems.”
He clucked his tongue. “I cannot have you walking into that party with hair stiffer than a broom.” He picked up a pair of slim silver scissors and snipped, snipped at the air.