The Lemon Sisters (Wildstone #3)(17)

She shrugged. “I’d be a good cat. I’m bitchy and I don’t like anyone.”

“Okay, there’s no pity parties on our agenda today,” he said firmly. “We’ve got too much to do for that.” He made a few phone calls and then drove her to some secret location that turned out to be a studio, where he had to flash a badge to the night watchman.

“Where are we?” she asked.

He glanced over at her as they walked inside a huge hangar where she could see everything from sets to set dressings to cameras, and more equipment than she had names for. “This is where your sister works,” he said.

Mindy stopped walking. “Brooke works outside—on adventure reality shows. On mountaintops and crazy raging rivers and hard-to-reach remote landscapes.”

Tommy stopped, too, and turned back to her, head cocked. “Baby doll, how long has it been since you asked your sister about her job?”

She blinked. “Uh . . . I don’t know? But I do know she’s a great photographer, and daring and adventurous as hell. I see her pics on Instagram sometimes.”

Tommy’s smile faded, and he looked like he felt sorry for her. “You shouldn’t rely on Instagram to get news on your sister. Social media’s nothing but smoke and mirrors. You see only what the people posting want you to see.”

She felt a ball of anxiety low in her gut, followed by a defensiveness she hated. “I know that. It’s just that I’ve been pretty busy, and—”

“I know.” He took her hand again, but he wasn’t smiling as easily as he had been before as he led her through a maze of hallways and sets and doors.

Mindy was chewing her lip, worrying. “But Brooke’s still an action photographer for your show, right?” she asked his back. God. What if Brooke had lost her job and had been too ashamed to tell anyone? What if Brooke’s life was in as much turmoil as her own? And what had she done? She’d let Brooke take on her crazy, chaotic life, without a single thought to what was going on with her sister.

Shame had her quiet as Tommy stopped and opened a door to two women, who introduced themselves as Tommy’s staffers. One was a massage therapist and the other a nail stylist. They’d re-created a day spa room, complete with soft music and snacks and more wine. Mindy got a massage, a mani-pedi, and some 411 on Brooke, including the fact that her current job was apparently nothing like Mindy had imagined, info she had to save to think about later or she’d fall apart even more.

Tommy did her hair. They changed her hair color and cut off her long braid. It felt so drastic, but when Tommy turned her to face the mirror a couple of hours later, she stared at herself in awe. Her hair had been long. Too long. Hanging nearly down to her elbows and usually pulled up on top of her head or braided. He’d cut it to her shoulders and given her some long layers in front that gave her face a frame. And the color. He’d given her both high-and lowlights, so her hair was now the color of a fawn in the sun, which was to say it was a million different colors, giving it depth and shine.

She hardly recognized herself.

Her phone buzzed in her hand. Linc. She answered, breathless.

“Mindy,” he said with clear relief. “I finally got reception. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he said. “I tried to get out of here a few days early, but couldn’t since Ethan had to get home to work some things out.”

Of course he did . . .

“But I’ll be home in a few days, okay? Is there anything I can do from here to help?”

Her heart warmed a little bit. “You just did. Just by asking.”

“What were you trying to tell me before?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she lied, not wanting to repeat it all in front of her audience. Or ever . . .

“Text me later?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Love you, Min.”

“Love you, too,” she said, but felt a lot less warm without him on the line.

Tommy distracted her by taking her to craft services. There was a juice bar set up, and suddenly, she was in her element. She created unique juices for her entire squad based on what she’d learned of them over the past hours, and they all squealed in excitement, gushing over her skills.

From there, they went to a bar, and then a late dinner, and then a club.

She had the time of her life. Or so she told herself.

“You okay?” Tommy asked her.

“Sure, I’m great.”

“Is that why you kept sneaking into the bathroom to check your phone?”

She sighed. “Mom guilt.” And wife hope. But nothing more from Linc.

Tommy reached for her hand. “You love your family. You miss them. That’s the hard part. The good part is that you’re taking a little well-deserved time to put yourself back together after cracking.”

She looked at him. “You think I’ve cracked?”

“Like Humpty Dumpty, sweetness.”

She thought about that as she crawled into Brooke’s comfy, clean bed, luxuriating in the fact that she didn’t have to share it with a husband and at least one kid. Tommy was right. She had cracked. She just hoped she could put all the pieces back together again, and quickly, since Brooke was expecting her home tomorrow. But even as she thought it, she knew she wasn’t ready. She needed more time, a few more days.