Need You for Mine(80)

Harper looked back to her paints, the emerald green and gold glitter catching her eye. “How about an Egyptian princess?”

Shay thought about that for a moment, while taking a long sip of wine. Her eyes went wide. “I want to be an Egyptian queen,” Shay clarified, her expression turning mischievous. “Cleopatra. She had cats, and Jonah would make a handsome Mark Antony.” She leaned back in the chair and sighed. “I can just see him feeding me grapes in one of those loincloths. Maybe I should text him to make sure we have grapes.”

Shay picked up her phone and started swiping, while Harper went about picking out the colors.

Shay’s phone pinged. “Jonah says he’s stopping by the store on his way to get me, so Cleopatra it is!” Her phone buzzed again. Three times. “He’s leaving right now. Oh, he says he’s using the sirens.” Shay looked up. “We’d better hurry.”

“Seriously?” Emerson set the tray on the coffee table and plopped onto the couch. “This is supposed to be girls’ night. Something both of you made clear. So against my better judgment, I agreed, and even hosted it so I could kick you out if it got all emotional.”

“I can tell you about how sweet Jonah was the other day when the herd of baby chinchillas I rescued got scared, so he cuddled them.”

“You shouldn’t tell anyone that story. Ever,” Emerson said. “And the only two rules of girls’ nights are no guys allowed and no one leaves until the bottles are empty. Those were your rules, Shay.”

With a shrug, Shay picked up one of the bottles and drained the remaining bit. There were still two half-empty ones left.

“That’s okay,” Harper said. “You guys cut off hours of prep work for me tonight by helping out with the decorations. All that’s left is getting everything to the park, and displaying my Sprouting Picassos’ artwork, which I can finish tomorrow.” She took a sip from her glass.

“If you guys help me prep the petting zoo pen early, we can set up the art show together,” Shay said.

“Perfect.” Harper dipped the brush into glittery emerald-green paint and lifted it to her friend’s forehead. “Close your eyes.”

Shay did as told, while Harper outlined the whimsical design she created in her mind. Working off a design was usually her MO, but sometimes it was fun to design while she was creating.

“What are you going to pick, Em?” Harper asked. “Make it something that will surprise Dax.”

“You should be a queen too,” Shay mumbled through still lips. “Then you can boss him around when he gets here.”

“Nah, I already do that.” Emerson picked up the binder of ideas and flipped through it. “Camo is Dax’s favorite color. You got anything camo themed?”

“Oh, how about GI Jane?” Shay asked. Harper didn’t hear the response. She was too lost in the creative process to pay attention. Mixing colors, enhancing people’s best features, creating a portal into make-believe—she’d forgotten how much she enjoyed this.

“How about you?” Emerson asked. “Harper?”

Harper took onyx paint and followed the natural curve of Shay’s eyes, making them bigger, more catlike, and exotic. “Oh, well, Adam likes bright colors, so maybe a mermaid,” she said, then remembered their earlier conversation and felt her belly warm. “Or a bunny.”

The room fell silent. Harper finished the last touches on Shay’s other eye and looked up—to find her friends looking back. Confusion and something akin to suspicion etched their faces.

“What?”

“I was asking if you wanted more wine,” Emerson said, holding up the bottle. “Seriously, a bunny? That’s about as sexy as your cat sweaters.”

Harper didn’t bother to point out that Adam had a magic touch when it came to kitties, because talking about his sexual prowess would lead to talking about sex. With him. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about that with her friends. Not until she understood it herself, because there was more going on than just sex.

“Ah hell.” Emerson plopped down on the couch and leaned her head back. “I should have known something was up when you started wearing your pageant hair.”

Harper patted down her hair, which was silky and smooth and had taken her an hour to straighten. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“It looks like something off Miss America, or that nightly newscaster on the local evening news. No curls, no pencil holding it together, and way too sculpted to be anything good.” Emerson zeroed in on Harper until she was sweating. “He charmed you.”