As she raised a contact lens balanced on her fingertip, someone pounded on the door, startling her and sending the contact flying into the sink.
“Shit!” she yelled and waved her sister toward the door. “Let him in. Then tell him I’m going to kill him if I don’t find this lens. I don’t want everyone to see me as a sexy accountant.”
Holly giggled some more as she headed for the door, and Brynn muttered to herself as she shoved her face into the sink to find the contact.
It was no use. Brynn couldn’t see what was right in front of her face if she didn’t have her glasses on, and she’d left them in the bedroom on her nightstand.
She braced her hands on the counter and blew out a breath. “Sexy accountant,” she mumbled again. Brynn pouted, thinking about how people saw her ten years ago—the smart girl with too much optimism and too much hair. In their senior superlatives she was voted “Best Smile” and “Most Likely to Be Concealing a Carrier Pigeon.” Yeah, they made that second one up just for her. As an assistant editor for the school paper, she’d even approved it going to print. Because that was Brynn—go with the flow and smile at everything—but tonight she wanted to be something else.
“Can’t I just be sexy?” she murmured to herself.
“Sure thing, Sleepy Jean.”
The familiar voice came from behind her, and she smiled despite her irritation. Jamie brought that out in her. But right now, she was annoyed with him, and he had some damage control to do.
She turned toward her friend and blinked at his blurry outline.
“Where is it?” he asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice even if she couldn’t see it. She rolled her unfocused eyes.
“In the sink…I hope. If it went down the drain and I have to go to our ten-year reunion looking like I’m balancing my checkbook, you’re in for a world of hurt.”
He brushed past her, and she hummed a small, “Mmmm.” He smelled good. Different, but good. Something fluttered in her belly, and Brynn groaned softly. She could pass it off as annoyance if he questioned her. Which it was. Her belly wasn’t supposed to get all fluttery for him.
“Is that the new cologne Elizabeth bought for your birthday?” She grimaced a little. It’s not that she didn’t like Jamie’s girlfriend. It’s just that she and Jamie loved going through the fragrance section at Bloomingdale’s together, making fun of the latest celebrity perfumes and colognes. The one that made them laugh the most was always the one she bought him for Christmas that year and vice versa. This year it was going to be Adam Levine’s aptly titled scent, Adam Levine, but if he was into whatever Kenneth Cole or Hugo Boss his girlfriend bought him, the fun would be lost.
Jamie backed away from the sink so he stood in front of her again. He pulled out her hand and gingerly dropped the lost lens into her palm.
“Even cleaned it off with your solution,” he said, and she quickly inserted the contact into her right eye and proceeded to do the same with the left. “And to answer your question, no. It’s not the stuff Liz got me. I ducked into Sephora on my way here and sprayed on some Michael Jordan 23. I’m going old-school Chicago tonight.”
Brynn couldn’t help the satisfied smile, even if the edges of it were dulled by him having a nickname for his girlfriend after only three months. When she had first met Elizabeth, Jamie introduced her as Liz.
“Elizabeth,” she’d corrected and winked as she shook Brynn’s hand. “James seems to like Liz, and I kind of like when he says it. But everyone else calls me Elizabeth.”
She’d never begrudge Jamie his happiness, even if it was with a girl who winked. She just didn’t like the idea of their sharing private jokes or nicknames. But Liz still called him James, and Liz had no clue about their celebrity cologne obsession. Some things were sacred.
When she turned around, Jamie crystalized into focus, and damn did he look good. Not that he didn’t always, but his work attire was overly casual, usually just a Kingston Ale House T-shirt and jeans. And even though tonight’s affair was being held at that very same establishment, Jamie cleaned up for the occasion.
“Looking pretty sharp, Mr. Kingston,” Brynn said as she took him in. His hair was cropped short on the sides but left slightly longer on top, enough to require a little pomade to give it some lift. It looked darker when he wore it shorter, and Brynn liked it like this. The outfit was typical Jamie: white oxford with the sleeves rolled up, charcoal and black striped tie, a fitted black vest, and, of course, always jeans. Tonight’s pair was dark-washed denim, a fitted straight-leg that stopped atop a pair of red suede Pumas.
He bowed humbly. “And what scent are you wearing this evening, Ms. Chandler?”
Brynn bit her lip and grinned. “Meow by Katy Perry.”