Page 12 of Someone to Tempt
“Rigid,” Molly adds.
“Standoffish,” Taylor whispers.
Each of their words hits like a punch, but it’s sweet Sadie who delivers the knockout blow.
“A lot of residents chose this town because it feels like home and they love it here. It sometimes seems like you came back because you have something to prove.” She shrugs apologetically. “Once you check us off the list, you’ll leave Skylark in your rearview mirror without a backward glance.”
“Oh.” I reach for my sangria glass—which Taylor has just refilled—because I need something to do with my hands, but my fingers are trembling too hard to pick it up without the liquid sloshing over the sides. I could argue that I do love it here, but I haven’t let myself love anything or anyone for a long time.
I don’t even want or need to examine the reasons why. Because if these women—my friends—think these things about me, I’m guessing most people in town would straight up call me a bitch.
“We know your intentions are good,” Molly assures me, “but some of your words and actions might come off harsher than you intend.”
“Harsh. So I need to prove to people that I’m fun and playful. Not harsh and rigid and…” I glance at Taylor.
“Standoffish,” she repeats, then bites down on her bottom lip like it’s painful to tell me the truth.
Not half as painful as it is to hear.
“You can do this,” Sloane promises, but she doesn’t look convinced. She knows me best, is why I’m in the book club and bellying up to the bucket list challenge. It’s not a great sign.
“Think about what brings you joy,” she encourages. “Or a time when you did something for the simple reason that it made you happy without worrying about proving yourself in the process.”
“Okay,” I agree. “I can do that.” I hope to God I sound more convincing than I feel. Growing up in a state of constant chaos, fun doesn’t come without worry in my life.
It didn’t help that my larger-than-life mother tied a sparkly bow on the madness to convince Nick and me we were having fun. But a shit sandwich loaded down with colorful condiments still stinks like crap.
“It might feel impossible now.” Sadie reaches across the table and grabs my hand, as if she can sense my anxiety and unease. Like I’m one of her dog clients and she needs to whisper me. She’s not wrong. “But I’m proof that amazing things can come from putting yourself out there in a new and scary way.”
I take a moment to admire the diamond sparkling on her finger. The one former NFL quarterback Ian Barlowe put there at the end of the summer. Not only did Sadie succeed in checking off her bucket list item, but she also managed to fall head over heels with a man who absolutely worships her.
It’s a high bar. And while I have zero chance of matching her success, my competitive drive kicks in. Yes, I want to have fun. I also want to be elected mayor and convince Gloria Johnson to mentor me. I’m not sure I can or want to separate the two.
Still, the thought of Gloria triggers a memory. One that fits the criteria Sloane just gave me.
“I’m going to dance,” I blurt.
“Yes, queen.” Avah’s velvety voice takes on an even huskier note as she bops her head from side to side to music only she can hear. “Let’s go clubbing in Denver. That would be a metric shit ton of fun.”
“But not exactly the spirit of the bucket list challenge,” Sloane murmurs.
“Iris could set the goal to dance on every bar, Coyote Ugly style,” Molly offers.
Avah nods and starts the head bopping again. “And dance with the hottest guy in every club.” She jabs a finger in the air. “Or the hottest girl. That would be fun, at least to watch.”
I wish it was as easy as going dancing for the evening, but even without Sloane’s reminder, I know I need to do better.
“I’m going to take dance lessons,” I tell them. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.” And bya while, I mean approximately ninety seconds, but I don’t mention that.
“There’s an adult class that meets twice a week at the community center, and I’ve invited them to perform at the Skylark Fun Fest the first weekend of November.” At least I plan to do so when I enroll in the class tomorrow morning.
Taylor makes a soft sound of distress next to me. “I thought you were canceling this year’s Fun Fest so you could put that money toward the library’s literacy program.”
“I’ll find another way to fund the library,” I promise, taking her hand. “Fun Fest is happening.”
Sloane takes a drink from her mug of tea. She hasn’t been able to stomach even a sip of alcohol since starting her treatments. “Are you sure you’re choosing a dance class because you think it will be fun, and not to make voters believe you think it’s fun?”
I take a sip of my sangria, relieved I can hold the plastic cup with steady hands. Sloane’s skepticism is valid, but having a plan is my favorite form of fun, even if no one else appreciates it.
