“You just can’t do what you’re told, can you?”
I smile wickedly at him. “You’d have a better chance asking me to do the opposite of what you actually want.”
He runs his hand over his face, exasperated, and I try to take his towel off again, and again, he stops me. “I’m serious. You have to get dressed. You have visitors downstairs waiting for you to wake up.” I frown, still wondering who these ‘visitors’ are. Sensing my trepidation, Bren brings his hand to the side of my face and caresses my cheekbone with his thumb. “It’s a surprise. From me,” he says. “Oh, and I want to run something by you.”
“Okay.”
“You can say no if you want to.”
“Out with it, Bren.”
“An old friend of mine is in San Francisco with the band. He wanted to see me but didn’t realize I’d be gone. Would you hate it if I invited him here tomorrow? Just for lunch, then I promise we will continue our romantic getaway alone.”
“An old friend?”
“Yes. A good one. I’d love for him to meet you.”
I shift my weight from one leg to the other. “It’s not too soon to be meeting friends?”
“I met yours. Mandy was her name? And I’ve met Joe.”
“Okay, Mandy is not really a friend-friend. And Joe, he’s a colleague.”
“Forget I asked—” he starts to say.
“He’s important to you?” I ask.
Bren nods. “He’s my best friend, and I haven’t seen him in a while. We’re both so busy, we don’t get much of a chance.”
He clearly wants to spend time with his buddy, and I would be a total dick if I got in the way of that. I wouldn’t do that to him. “It’s fine, Bren. Have him over.”
“Are you sure?” His eyes search mine, and I nod. He plants a kiss on my forehead. “Thank you,” he says. “It was not planned. I’m sorry we’ll have an interruption, but I promise it’ll be brief,” he says.
Bren grabs some clothes from the closet, announces he is going to the guest bedroom to shower, and I hear him as he calls down the stairs for someone to come up.
Fully dressed now, I watch as a slender man in a pinstripe suit and rose-colored glassed walks into our room. Two people trail him, carrying a clothes rail between them. One is a young woman, and the other person helping is none other than Andreas, looking a bit rosy around the cheeks.
“Hello, Andreas, I’m sorry about earlier—”
“Nothing to be sorry about, ma’am,” Andreas says, but his cheeks flush beet-red, and his gaze is glued to the cream carpet. I stifle a chuckle. “Excuse me,” he says and leaves me alone with the other man and woman.
“Hello,” I say, stretching out my hand. “I’m Sofia.”
The woman takes my hand and smiles. “I’m Kikki,” she says with a bright smile.
The man doesn’t say anything for a while. He stands back and rubs his chin studiously, then his eyes grow wide. “You’re so beautiful. We hardly get to work on anyone this stunning, do we, Kikki?”
“This is Marco,” Kikki finally says, solving my mystery. “He is your personal stylist, and I’m here to do hair and makeup.” Kikki smiles wide.
“So these are for me?” I ask as I approach the clothes rail and run my hand through the expensive fabrics.
Kikki nods.
“Wow.”
“Mr. Reindhart has special plans for you two this evening, and he wants you to look spectacular,” Marco says.
I don’t know if I should be insulted and hide my eye roll. Of course he does. Like I can’t look spectacular without help. Sure, so far, he’s only seen me in concert or bar clothes. He’s planning a proper first date, but I can bring it. And I don’t need any help to do it, damn it. Still, I don’t want to be rude to Marco, who surely has been paid already.