Page 28 of Swallow Your Fear
I snorted. She was the spitting image of the infamous doll. I, on the other hand, could never pass as the flawless image. “Yeah, that’d be perfect. For you.”
“So grouchy today.” She picked up her pen, twirling it in her fingers. “Little sleep?”
I placed the large jug of salt back under the counter, ignoring her question. “I’ll come up with something.”
“Oh!” she squealed, slapping her pen on the bar. “How about a cowgirl?”
“Are you just saying that because I’m living on a ranch for the time being?”
She tried to hide her smile, but failed. “No.”
“Mhm.” I wasn’t buying it.
“It’d be perfect, Brynne!” She grabbed my arm, bouncing the slightest bit on the heel of her foot. “Booker could be your cowboy date.”
I turned away, heading into the kitchen to clock out. “He’s not my date.”
“You’d be a sexy cowgirl, with short shorts and a hat!” She kept going, following me to the back. “I can see it now. Booker would love it.”
“Booker isn’t going.” I wasn’t even planning on asking him. He seemed like he had better things to do than hang out in some gimmicky haunted house, screaming at jump scares and being chased by actors with chainsaws.
“That’s lame.” She wrote her clock-out time on the paper, popping her gum as she passed it to me. I’d grown used to the sound after so many years of her chewing it. It helped with her anxiety, giving her something to do.
Once I scribbled down my own time, we headed back out to the front to close up the diner.
“I’ll get our costumes together. You don’t need to worry about it one bit,” she said as I twisted the key in the lock.
“If anything, I should worry more.”
She flipped her ponytail over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. “I have much more fashion sense than you, Brynne. You should be thanking me.”
Growing up, she was the girly girl and I was the tomboy. Our friendship was definitely anopposites attractsituation. I’d sprayed my mud pie on her new sundress, and we’d bonded over cleaning it off with the water spigot at school. The rest was history.
We walked side by side toward our cars, our sneakers sloshing in the small puddles.
“Are you heading to the ranch?” she asked, digging around for her keys in her purse as we approached the vehicles.
“I think I’m going to work out for half an hour, then make my way over there.” It wasn’t that I was avoiding seeing Booker, but I wasn’t quite sure where I stood with the three of them, and I didn’t want to just outright ask what this meant.
We were having fun. It was as simple as that.
But if that was the case, why was my mind having such a hard time wrapping around the fact that this thing with Booker was temporary?
“Alright. Well, be safe. I’ll see you in a couple days.”
I didn’t work until the morning after the opening night of the haunted house, which was three days away. That meant I wouldn’t see her until that evening.
I pulled on the handle of my car. “I trust you not to make me look like an idiot in that costume.”
She opened her own door, looking over at me. “Have I ever let you down?”
The response wasn’t comforting in the least. Most likely, she’d show up with lingerie and a cowgirl hat and tell me it was trendy.
“Goodnight,” I called to her.
“Night!” We got in our vehicles, and I headed toward the gym as she turned the opposite way.
The local workout spot was nothing special. I liked to avoid it if I could, but now that I didn’t have Chase’s equipment to use, I needed a way to get some kind of a sweat going that didn’t just involve running. I never did anything extreme—just the bare minimum when time allowed. Enough to make my limbs ache the slightest the next day, giving me that sense of satisfaction after a few exercises.
