Page 14 of Mountain Time
By the way Carson is looking at me, he will also be helping trim the mares now.
Great.
Chapter 7
Kacey
Kacey
Coffee tomorrow morning?
Jessie
Please. I’ll be coming off a 14 hour shift.
Kacey
Perfect, meet you at Plot Twist at 9.
Jessie
Okay. How was the jackpot?
Kacey
Not over yet but it’s been interesting. I thought Carson and my farrier were going to whip them out and measure. I’ll explain tomorrow.
Jessie
HA isn’t your farrier like 60 years old? I can’t wait for this story.
The next morning, I meet my best friend, Jessie, at The Plot Twist Café, our favorite coffee and book shop. It’s in an old brick building in downtown Cottonwood Valley. The owner, Lainey, has done a fantastic job with it. When you walk in, the first thing you see is the huge, petrified tree where she has glued used book pages in place of leaves. It looks like it grows right into the ceiling. There are floor-to-ceiling bookshelves with eclectic decor, stained glass lamps and mismatching vintage furniture everywhere.
She added the coffee shop to make sure it always made a profit, but her actual love is books. Jessie and I both went to high school with Lainey, and we’ve stayed friends; meeting up once a month to discuss the different books we’re reading. It’s less of a book club and more of Jessie telling us how many unhinged smut books she’s managed to consume in the given month.
She really needs a boyfriend.
I beat Jessie here. She’s an ER nurse at the local hospital and often runs late if a trauma arrives. I’m sitting at a small table near the tree waiting for my caramel macchiato and muffin when she comes barreling in.
“Okay, I’m here. Tell me all about Carson’s small dick,” she announces a little too loud.
Yep, people are definitely looking.
Typical Jessie, but I expect nothing less.
“Can you please sit down and lower your voice?” I laugh at her. “No ‘Hi, Kacey. Good to see you. How are you?’ You’re just concerned about Carson’s dick—which not only grosses me out but concerns me about your lack of a sex life.”
She plops in the seat across from me. She’s wearing standard blue scrub pants, but her top is a blue and purple leopard print. Her dark red hair is French braided down her back, with stray hairs loose around her freckled face from work, giving her an effortlessly beautiful look.
“Fine. How are you, my love?”
I roll my eyes at her heavy dose of sarcasm. “I’m wonderful, thank you for asking. We won a good check at the jackpot yesterday. How was your shift?”
“That’s great, it was great. Now about the dick measuring contest . . .”
I shake my head. She’s like a dog with a bone.
Ever since middle school, Jessie has been the wild child, class clown, and every boy’s crush. Where I was quiet and reserved, she was the outgoing life of the party. Sometimes I wonder how much of her firecracker personality is a shield guarding her against the world.
