“Then why don’t you look in the mirror and see what reflects back?”
“What?” The smugness in Nathan’s voice had stunned him. “No.”
His cousin grinned. “Exactly.”
“No.” Caleb leaned forward again and rubbed his lips. He replayed everything that had happened between him and Didi. The laughs. The serious moments. The casual touches. The kiss . . . His stomach clenched. “No.”
“People who live in glass houses—”
“Shut up a sec,” he said, cutting Nathan off. Then he stood abruptly and began pacing in front of the lounge chairs. “I need to think.”
“What’s there to think about?”
“This can’t be happening.”
“I’d say it’s already happened from the looks of you.”
“No.” He rubbed his forehead, not breaking stride. “That’s not possible.”
Nathan resettled himself on the lounge chair and cradled the back of his head in his hands. “You only think it’s impossible because it’s never happened before.”
Caleb stopped in his tracks. He placed his hands on his waist and looked up at the sky. Its color reminded him so much of one of Didi’s paintings. He closed his eyes, and the first thing he saw was the smile on her face when she’d arrived at the garden party in that yellow dress. He could still feel the gentleness of her fingers as they raked through his hair in her painting room after he’d told her about his mother. If he listened hard enough he knew he would hear distant strains of her laughter from the Fourth of July event.
She had completely undone him.
He allowed himself to absorb the realization like the heat from the afternoon sun on his skin.
“Shit,” he breathed out.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Caleb Parker, the rule breaker. Can I get a round of applause?”
Twenty
IN NATASHA’S ROOM the day of Caleb’s birthday, Didi danced to a pop song she didn’t know the title of. The catchy tune was pumped in from magical speakers she couldn’t see. How much cooler could this room get?
The elder Parker twin had kidnapped her for some primping and pampering before the party that night. They had worn face masks, painted their nails. There might have been singing into brushes at one point.
“Here it is!” Natasha said as she carried a dress bag into her room.
“Gimme, gimme, gimme,” Didi squealed, opening and closing her hands as she jumped in place.
Natasha unzipped the garment bag and pulled it aside to reveal the dress. Didi’s squeal turned into a breathy “Oooh.” The sleeveless dress came in a beautiful blush tone. The beads on the bodice formed geometric shapes that were meant to emphasize the body’s curves. The V-shaped neckline would skim her collarbones just right. Fringe, the same color as the beads, dangled from the jagged hemline. It was delicate and sexy at the same time. She loved it.
“I think my brother outdid himself this time,” Natasha commented, equally as breathless. “You’ll look stunning in it.”
Didi couldn’t stop staring, transfixed by the way the light bounced off the beadwork. “It’s so pretty.”
But before she could touch it, Natasha zipped the bag right up and laid it out on her bed. “More time to swoon over it later.” She took Didi’s hand and guided her to the vanity. “It’s time for makeup. I will make you so drop-dead gorgeous all eyes will be on you tonight.”
Didi’s legs bobbed nervously as she sat in front of the mirror. A million clips secured her hair away from her face, which was currently being used as a canvas by Natasha. She rubbed her hands against her thighs. Anxiety zinged beneath her skin like fast cars on the freeway without traffic cops in sight to apprehend them.
Despite the excess energy, fatigue still clung to her like a shirt on a muggy day. She had barely finished Caleb’s gift in time. The impulse to get the image just right consumed her, body and soul. The last thing she wanted was to disappoint him.
“Are you sure the painting got there?” she asked for the fifth time.
The pretty socialite smiled at her patiently in the mirror. The bright vanity lights highlighted the elegant lines of her face. She looked like a live version of Vermeer’s famous painting Girl with a Pearl Earring. So enigmatic. So elegant. Didi had to remind herself not to touch Natasha’s face, no matter how much she wanted to. Because that would seem like all kinds of weird.
“Didi, I know you’re nervous, but you need to relax or I won’t get your makeup just right. Nathan texted me that your painting is in a place of honor among the gifts. Don’t worry,” she said reassuringly. “When did you start painting?”
Didi shrugged. “Six or seven. My mom brought me along to one of those free painting classes at the community center.”
“I’d love to see your work sometime.” Natasha set aside the brush she had been using to glide foundation onto Didi’s face, then picked up a smaller one for concealer and got back to work.