I return to the hash marks, take aim, unlock the safety, and shoot four perfect shots in a row. I hear Logan’s cheers, and I turn to face him.
As the hot sun beats down on our heads, Logan and I stare at each other.
“Is this how it’s going to be from now on?” I say slowly. “All awkward and shit?”
“No. Put the gun down and come have a drink with me,” he says.
I lock down the gun. “What did you want to talk about?” I ask him as I walk inside and go behind the bar.
Logan follows me inside and takes a stool as I pick up a dishcloth and start to clean the taps.
“You looked good shooting out there,” Logan says. “How’s practice going for this year’s county fair?”
“Great,” I say. “I hate to brag, but…”
“Oh, come on, you love to brag.”
I break into a real laugh for the first time since he told me he was engaged hours earlier. It already feels like a lifetime ago.
“So where’s your fiancée?” I ask. “Can I meet her?” I don’t know what possessed me to ask that. I have no interest in meeting this woman. And yet, part of me feels like I have to.
Logan flushes. “Sure,” he says noncommittally. “Someday.”
“It better be someday soon,” I say, hating how sharp my tone is but not able to calm my pulse enough to speak normally. “You’re marrying her in a couple months.”
Logan grabs my right hand, which is now soaked with beer and water. “You’re sure you want to meet her?”
I pull away from him and stare down at the counter in front of me.Thank God for this dishrag. I go vigorously after a large stain.
“Is that wipe down a yes?” Logan says. “Or just polite country slang for ‘no, thank you?’”
I exhale and look up at him with a friendly face I find somewhere inside of me. This must be how Hollywood stars manage to always look happy for the camera; even if something horrible happens they can pose with a million-dollar smile.
“Of course I want to meet her. She’s going to be your wife. I’ll be seeing her for the rest of our lives.”
Logan exhales. His mouth turns up in a smile that looks forced. But I can’t read him for shit right now, so I stick out my tongue and grab two canned beers. As I go to open the first one, the beer fizzes and comes out too fast, soaking my dress.
“Shit!” I hold the can away from me too late.
Logan grimaces. “You may have to change.”
“You think?” I look down at the enormous wet stain all over the front of the dress.
“You have clothes in your office?”
I hesitate. “Yeah. But…”
“But what? Just go change.”
But…I can’t take this dress off without help.
It has no zippers and is one of those irritating gowns that have to be lifted over the head.Oh, why is this happening?
Logan’s watching me. And, like always, he proves to be a Macey Henwood mind-reader. “You need some help?”
“No.” I squeeze my hands around the wet fabric, trying to wring it dry somehow.
“Oh, come on. I know Eloise and Helena Rattles are already fit to be tied that you walked out of the store in that thing. Don’t give them another reason to be mad at you.”
