I even had fun skinny-dipping. I mean, yes, I could feelallthe boys had their eyes on me, even Tommy, Blair’s boyfriend, but Luke is a free spirit, always flirty-flirty with everyone, so I just kind of assumed he’d be cool with it. It’s not like I let anyone kiss or touch me.
And honestly?I’mcool with it, Luke coming on to others and me doing the same. I don’t want to wind up being one of those controlled, under-the-thumb women like Mom.
So I took off my dress, keeping my bottoms on like the other girls (not the boys—they went full commando), unlaced my bikini top and let it flop on the grass, then let the hot wind kiss my chest. It feltgreat; I feltfree. And everything was fine until Nellie tried to mow us down. It was even fine after that, except for how much I drank.
The room’s tilting around me now, but I keep my eyes focused on the clock.Tick, tock, tick.
The back door creaks open.
Mom and Pa.
They’ve been outside, sitting around the campfire.
From the sounds of it, he’s had as much to drink as I have.
I know they think I’m asleep, so I sit up, lean toward the railing, cock my ear.
“All’s I’m sayin’ is to think about it—”
“Ethan. I’ve never done anything like this and am ashamed you’re asking—”
“We need moremoney! M-O-N-E-Y!” Pa actually spells thewhole word out, his lips tripping on some of the letters. “And that man took a shine to you—”
“Wha—”
“Don’t deny it! I caught it. His wife may have a stick up her ass, and their daughter is bizarre. Nellie. The balls on her… But the man—”
“You seriously want me to—”
I sit up all the way now, my tipsiness fading fast.
“I’m just saying you could butter him up. They could be our biggest account! Just…you know, take the truck into town tomorrow. Load it up with a box of your oils. Take Jane with you—”
Ugh.
Forever the scout bee.
The very last thing I wanna do is spend my Saturday trapped with Mom and all this madness Pa’s pushing on her.
“And bump into the man. We’ll look ’em up in the phone book. Park outside their house, wait and see if he leaves, and follow him.”
28
Jackson
“Mmmm, this coffee is thebest!” Charleigh trills from Jackson’s kitchen table, her legs tucked beneath her. She’s wearing one of his old SMU T-shirts and a pair of his sweats. Bedhead and all, she still looks resplendent in the morning sunlight that gushes through the windows—casement windows that are original to the bungalow and that Jackson painstakingly stripped and repainted a deep gray, all by himself, thank you very much.
“Seriously, this isn’t some Folgers BS. How do you even make this?” Last night’s makeup is smudged around her eyes; she clutches the mug as if holding on to a life raft.
“Iamfancy with my coffee. Like I am with everything,” Jackson says, then winks at her. “I get the beans at this natural grocery store in Dallas and grind them myself before each brew. Glad you approve.”
“Approve?” Charleigh guffaws. “You’re never getting rid of me! Been here a thousand times but forget each time howadorablethis place is.”
Jackson eyes the clock on the stove: It’s nine. It’s at least a twenty-minute drive out to Ethan’s; hebetterbe getting rid of her ASAP. But, of course, he can’t tell her that.
“Speaking of which,” he says, clearing his throat in an exaggerated, playful way. “Idohave a ten-o’clock appointment.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Charleigh bats her hand through the air. “I heard you grousing about that last night. Withwhomagain?”
