That wasn’t entirely true. But the situation was messy enough having to work together. There was no challenge in his voice but there was something in his eyes. Like he was waiting for her to object. Waiting for her to tell him he was wrong.
Dammit, fight for him, Perdie. Do it. Do it.
But he was breaking off more than she could chew. So, instead, she choked.
She nibbled on her lower lip, mind uneasy. Finally, she cleared her throat. “I sent you the first draft of that complaint for the Fletcher Group. I’ll be on the lookout for your notes.”
Carter steepled his hands on his desk, resting his chin against them. “I expect we’ll be making a few trips out to San Francisco after the holidays to meet with them.”
“Well, at least it’s better than North Dakota.” She regretted the words as soon as they slipped from her lips.
Carter stared at her for a long moment. “Right.”
Perdie scratched the top of her head, voice quiet. “I should go.” She braced her arms on the chair to leave but Carter’s words made her pause.
“I want you to know, I still have your back at work. This personal...stuff between us doesn’t change anything. Okay?”
She stood, pulling at the cuff of her blazer. “Ah, thanks. I guess I’ll—”
“See you Friday?”
“Friday?”
He gave a small smile. “The holiday party.”
Shit. It’d slipped her mind. And she wouldn’t even have a date to take along. Her stomach lurched. “Yeah, should be really fun.”
She turned to leave as Jennifer and Sophia were entering the room.
“Oh, Perdita.” Jennifer’s tone was harsh, but her mouth was curved in a smile. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“I was leaving, actually.”
“Did you get a chance to read the memo I sent around—”
“I’ll get right on it as soon as I get to my office.” Perdie brushed by without so much as a glance over her shoulder.
“Wow. She looks like hell.” Sophia’s voice carried into the hallway.
“Stop being so damned stubborn and let me do the damned winged eyeliner on you.” Lucille chased Perdie from the living room to the kitchen island, wielding her Marc Jacobs black eyeliner like a weapon. They squared off, the island acting as a barrier.
“I’m skipping the party,” Perdie declared dramatically. She posed like a Street Fighter character, ready to jolt. Her winter-white beaded scoop-neck shift dress shimmered beneath the light fixture.
She juked left but Lucille’s reflexes proved quick, anticipating Perdie’s moves. Lucille jumped left too, snatching Perdie’s forearm before she could flee her fate.
“Lies,” Lucille declared. “You care too much about your career to skip the holiday party. Now, let me make you look nice.”
“Don’t you have to leave?”
Undeterred, Lucille dragged Perdie to the couch and yanked her down. “Knox Family Christmas can wait. Now, look up. No, with your eyes. Jesus Christ, sometimes I wonder about you.”
Perdie sighed, giving up the fight, and lifted her gaze to the ceiling as Lucille’s hand closed in on her face, gliding the liner over Perdie’s eyelid in a tickling sweep. Lucille had already finished most of Perdie’s makeup—the foundation, the contrast, the highlight, the falsies, the shimmer. She’d also put Perdie through an hour of hair curling to produce a perfect Old Hollywood S curl.
But for some reason, the longer it took, the more anxious Perdie became.
“Now use the brilliant berry liquid lip with a high-sheen gloss,” Lucille advised like a very stern professor. “You can carry bright colors like nobody else I know, and it would be a tragedy for you to miss out on an opportunity to make Carter Leplan eat his own self-righteous words.”
Perdie tried not to blink as Lucille added finishing touches. Then Lucille gently placed the lipstick and gloss inside Perdie’s vintage silver clutch.
Perdie fluttered her eyes, adjusting to the heavy makeup and lashes, then examined her face in Lucille’s little hand mirror. “You really are good at this.”
“And you look like a perfectly sharp, murderous, little Christmas icicle.” Lucille pinched Perdie’s chin, moving her face a little to the left and then right. “Just like I wanted you to be.” She booped Perdie’s nose with her index finger.
The tune of the doorbell caused Bananas to let out a few muffled whou-whous before the door quietly cracked open.
“I brought champagne. Does your family like champagne?” Noah stepped into the living room, his tall form holding out two cardboard carriers of champagne in offering.
“Everybody loves champagne. But I don’t think we’ll need twelve bottles. Actually, on second thought...” Lucille jumped up and caught Noah in a big hug. His eyes widened at her embrace. She quickly dropped her arms as if caught in the act of a crime, took a carrier from Noah, and set it on the coffee table. “Doesn’t Perdie look amazing?”
Noah bent down to scratch Bananas on the head as he nodded. “Yes. Amazing.” But he was staring at Lucille the whole time.
Lucille picked up her paint-splattered leather duffel and rummaged in the closet for her coat and scarf. “You sure you’re going to be okay without me?” she asked over her shoulder.
Perdie sat primly on the couch, careful not to disturb dress, hair, or makeup. “Believe it or not, I’m capable of being on my own for a few days. Besides, I’ll have Bananas.”
Lucille walked over and kissed Perdie on the cheek. “Text me, call me, telegram me, smoke signal if you need anything.” Then she turned to Noah. “You ready to blow this joint?”
Noah gave a slight bow. “Yes, I look forward to the new experience.”
