TWENTY-THREE
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* * * *
“I’ve got this,” she muttered to herself and rested a hand over the purse she had slung across her body.
Walking toward the Grand Hotel, Zara wasn’t as self-conscious about talking to herself as she had been the last time she’d been on this sidewalk. Maybe that was because this time her words were for her rather than the men in her ear.
“Looking good, baby,” Brodie said and she smiled. “Your legs look f*****g hot.”
“Thank you,” she muttered, trying not to let her glee spread to her expression because grinning like an i***t would probably be more conspicuous than talking to herself.
“They’ll look sexier with my head between them later.”
“Rave,” she whispered, sure that her blush was making her face luminous.
“If you get back what you give, she can earn
