Page 5 of Riding Jamie

I toss my head back on a laugh, the feeling of easy joy almost foreign after having moped around the house for so long. It feels freeing.

“You’re just using me as an excuse to spend money, aren’t you?” I tease.

“Absolutely, I am,” she agrees without hesitation. “We might as well stop by the salon since we’re out, too. You’ll feel like a new woman.”

I shake my head and grin at her, but I don’t say no, letting her tug me out of my seat after she sets some cash down on the table to cover our bill.

“Come on,” she grins, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “Let’s go have fun.”

Chapter Three

OAKLEY

“Oh, thank you so much!”I say with a wide smile, slipping my hands in the pockets of the dress and holding them out. “It has pockets!”

The woman’s pretty blue eyes crinkle at the corners as she chuckles and holds her hand out to me.

“I’m Alli,” she introduces. “I work for your uncle. I heard you’re going to be one of our new interns?”

I rush to pull one of my hands free, shaking hers excitedly. She’s taller than me, and her hair is curled into perfect beachy waves that drape over one of her shoulders. There’s an air of easy elegance about her, but the welcoming smile on her face makes it harder to be intimidated.

“Yes, ma’am,” I say. “I’m Oakley. I look forward to working with you!”

“And I you,” she says. “Mr. Branson told me he’s planning on having you head a branch for him in Montana one day. You’re in school, right?”

“NYU,” I tell her proudly. “I’ll be starting this semester.”

She nods approvingly and takes a sip of her drink, looking over me. I don’t quite feel like she’s judging me, more like she’s sizing me up. She seems happy enough with what she finds because the professional chill in her gaze thaws a bit, and she gives me a more genuine smile.

“Your uncle says you’re a good kid, and he doesn’t hand out praise lightly. Work hard, and I’ve got no doubt you’ll go far,” she says with a knowing grin. “And if you need anything at work, just let me know. I’d be happy to help out where I can.”

There’s an edge of competition in her gaze, but it’s not directed toward me. Maybe if I do well enough to actually get my own branch of the company started back home, she’d be willing to come work with me there. At the very least, I could use some guidance from someone who’s managed to find a good fit for herself in the industry.

“Thank you, Alli,” I say, my smile widening.

I don’t have time to say anything else before my attention is dragged away. I flinch back from the hand that’s suddenly in my hair, manicured fingers laden with rings twirling a lock of hair between them.

“Oh, darling, your hair isfabulous.”

I come face to face with an older woman who’s hanging off the arm of her husband, who looks about as bored as any human being can manage.

“Uh, thank you,” I say, stepping back with a strained smile. “My Aunt Kathy introduced me to her stylist last week.”

“Oh, Ziu has magic fingers.” She laughs, leaning heavily on her husband’s arm, wine threatening to slosh over the rim of her glass. “I’ve been going to him foryears. You know, with your coloring, you should really think about lowlights. They’d make your eyes really pop.”

I smile and nod, laughing uncomfortably as I share a glance with Alli. She gives me the universal look ofget out while you can, and I fully intend to listen.

“I’ll have to talk to him about it!” I agree, hoping my voice is suitably chirpy and not as frazzled as I feel. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to check in with a friend of mine. It was lovely to meet you.”

She lets me go with a pat on my arm and a wobbly smile, her attention already turning to Alli.

I step away and scan the room for any familiar face. I’m not used to mingling, not like this, and the throng of people and the chatter of voices is quickly becoming claustrophobic. This just really isn’t my scene, and I have no clue how to relate to these people. My eyes catch on the bar set up on the other end of the expansive balcony, and I almost breathe an audible sigh of relief at the idea of a place to relax.

I can probably whine my way into a glass or two of something alcoholic if I ask Aunt Kathy just right, but I already have a headache brewing at the base of my skull. Fruit punch is definitely the safer option.

And, since it’s in a fancy crystal self-serve bowl, I don’t have to talk to anyone in order to get it.

I pour myself a cup, taking a deep breath in an attempt to clear my head a bit. Names and faces and social niceties are spinning behind my eyes. I would kill for a quiet corner to hide in, even just for a few minutes. My room would be preferable, actually, but there’s no way I’ll make it all the way inside and up the stairs without being spotted, and I don’t want to worry my Aunt Kathy and Uncle Ricky.

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