“What are you reading?” Not that I’d have a clue. I hadn’t read a book in a while, but I used to love reading. A long time ago, it had been an escape for me. Now—or rather, up until four days ago—my escape was big sky Montana and the outdoors.

“I’m trying to do the classics. I’m working on Moby Dick.”

“Sis, I remember that from high school.” We’d been forced to read it at that enslavement camp my father had sent me to. “It’s about the most boring thing ever written. If you want to do the classics, try Dickens. You can’t go wrong with any of them, but my favorite is Great Expectations. Or read Dracula or Frankenstein. Or anything by Robert Louis Stevenson.”

Lacey turned to me, staring. “You’ve read the classics?”

“You find that surprising?” I arched an eyebrow at her.

“Well…no. Of course not. And I agree with you about Moby Dick. Are you enjoying it, Riley?”

“Not in the slightest,” she said.

All three of us laughed at that, and for a minute, I saw the happy little girl my sister might have been.

Finally. Now I could relax a little.

20

Lacey

I had no doubt that Rock Wolfe was intelligent. I’d already surmised that during our first encounter. But well-read? That one surprised me.

Still, I wondered why Riley had invited him to join us. She’d obviously wanted to talk to me about something. Maybe she changed her mind and saw inviting Rock as an out.

I had no idea, but I was going to find out. I just had to wait for the right moment, and that wasn’t going to happen with Rock sitting at our table.

My chance came when Riley excused herself to go to the ladies’ room.

I stood. “I’ll go with you.”

When we were safely in the powder room, I said, “Riley, what did you invite me here for? Is it something you’re okay talking about in front of your brother?”

She looked away, her cheeks red. “I… I changed my mind. I really don’t want to talk to anyone about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” She went into a stall.

No need for me to stay. I did a quick makeup check and left. As the bathroom door closed behind me, a retching sound came from inside. Was Riley making herself vomit? Did models really do that? Poor thing. Something was bothering her, but I couldn’t force her to talk.

Rock had cleaned his plate, except for the spinach, when I returned to the table.

“She okay?” he asked.

Did he know something? I didn’t know for sure she was puking, or that she was making herself do it, and I didn’t want to spout off to Rock and cause him worry when I wasn’t sure what was going on.