SAMANTHA
“That’s hilarious.” Helen gave Mason a scathing look, folding her arms over her chest. She was dressed in a pencil skirt with a white silk top. With her pointed heels, she looked like an older model who’d stepped out of a business magazine. Her blond hair was pulled up into a fancy twisted bun, but every time I saw Helen, that was how her hair was done.
Garrett stood. “Helen, to what do we owe the pleasure?”
A gargled sound came from Taylor’s throat, and when everyone turned her way, she held up an apologetic hand. “Sorry. She texted and said she couldn’t get ahold of Logan. I told her we were at dinner and he’d probably call when we were done. I had no idea she was in town.”
“Or that your phone pinpointed the actual restaurant you were at?” Helen didn’t sound amused. “Yes, we
