“Why aren’t you at the shop?” Prim asks.
“I’m coming to collect her.” I point a finger at Ali.
Prim’s face falls, and I feel a twinge of guilt.
Ali plants the pitchfork firmly into the ground, leaning into it with her other hand on her hip. “Excuse me?”
“Irene never did get your number, and she wanted to meet up at The Creamery in an hour.”
Prim’s face lights up again. “Oh! I love their onion rings.”
“Well, I think it’s just gonna be Irene and Ali catching up,” I say, trying to let her down gently.
Prim takes her own pitchfork and goes back to the hay bails without another word.
“I can’t,” Ali says. “I mean, look at me.” She gestures to her heavenly body. “I’m a mess.”
Ali’s skin gleams with a thin layer of sweat, and her hair is a mess of straw and hay, but it only serves to make her more attractive. At her worst, she somehow manages to set the bar so high that she’s ruined other women for me.
“We have an hour until we’re supposed to be there. Why don’t you go take a quick shower?”
“Hey, Prim—” Ali begins.
“Just go!” Prim snaps.
“It’s just that I haven’t seen her in nearly ten years, and now—”
Prim turns to Ali. “It’s fine. Go catch up with your friend.”
“Thank you!” Ali enthuses, throwing her arms around an annoyed-looking Prim.
Prim forces a smile, then darts her eyes toward me before looking away sharply.
It appears I’ve made an enemy of both the Carter sisters.
