Page 1 of Daddy in Disguise

1

Sparrow

“Oh, my God!” I scream. “This cannot be happening!”

I pull the garment out of the box and groan. This is a nightmare. Tonight, my brother Thatcher is hosting the largest masquerade party in Los Angeles to celebrate the grand opening of his nightclub, The Monarch.

“What’s wrong,” Thatcher asks, leaning against the doorway of my bedroom.

“My costume.” I pout. “I was planning on going as Marie Antoinette tonight but that’s not what they sent me.”

“What did they send?” He pushes himself away from the door frame and walks toward me and the disaster spread out on my bed.

“I don’t even know.” I pick up the costume and hold it up for him to see. “What do you think it is?”

He eyes the frilly blue satin dress. “Is that . . . Little Bo Peep?” He peers into the large box the costume came in and reaches inside. “Yep.” He holds a curved shepherd’s hook up and grins. “Hope you find some lost sheep tonight, little sis.”

He walks away, chuckling, leaving me to deal with this disaster on my own.

I reach for my phone and call the costume store. “Hi,” I begin when someone answers. “I think I was sent the wrong costume.”

The woman on the other end asks for my name so she can look up my reservation. “Marie Antoinette, right?” she asks without much enthusiasm.

“Yes,” I confirm.

“And that’s not what you received?”

“No. I was sent Little Bo Peep.” I cringe as the words come out of my mouth. “Do you still have the Marie Antoinette costume?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“Anything else? Cinderella?”

“Most of our costumes are already rented.”

“Well, what do you have left?”

“You’re welcome to come down and look. We have sexy nurse still available, and Playboy bunny.”

I flick my gaze to the digital clock on my bedside table. Los Angeles traffic is terrible, and I cannot be late to Thatcher’s party. I sigh and accept my fate. “That’s okay. I’ll just wear the costume I was sent.”

The conversation ends and I stare at the mountain of ruffles on my bed. It’s a masquerade, right? Maybe no one will even recognize me.

I head down to the kitchen and find Thatcher sitting at the island, hunched over, furiously typing on his laptop, no doubt working on last minute preparations for tonight.

“Found your sheep yet?” he asks with a quirk of his lips.

I narrow my gaze in his direction and stick out my tongue. “What’s your costume?”

“Phantom of the Opera.”

“Are Carter and Hunter coming?”

“Of course. They’re my best friends.”

I plop down on a stool across from him and pick at the bowl of trail mix in front of him. “Carter hasn’t been around much lately. Did you guys get into a fight?”

Thatcher grunts and shrugs. “He’s just been busy.”