Page 5 of Things Good Girls Don't Do (Rock Canyon, Idaho 1)

He’d bet his chopper, though, that Katie might be all cool sweetness on the outside, but she was a firecracker on the inside.

And boy, had he fantasized about Katie Connors letting that sharp tongue loose and maybe using it on him. In some real fun ways.

She sat down out of his view and he took his pool shot, wondering why he was so fascinated by a small-town hairdresser who bottled up her emotions like a shaken soda pop.

’Cause she’s out of your league, and that makes it all the more interesting. You always want what you can’t have.

When the game ended, Chase headed back up to the bar and noticed her doodling on a napkin while she munched on some chili cheese fries. The way her eyebrows knit together in concentration made him want to read what was on that scrap of paper. Something told him it wouldn’t be her grocery list. He leaned over the bar and asked Grant, “Hey, what’s Katie drinking?”

“Sorry, dude, but there’s no way in hell you’re making it with Katie Connors,” Grant said.

“Maybe I just want to talk,” Chase offered.

Grant snorted and made a clear drink with a lime wedge and some leaves, then handed it to him. “Uh-huh. Well, whatever floats your boat, dude, but if I was buying Katie a drink, it wouldn’t be because I was looking for conversation.”

“Thanks, man,” Chase said, taking the glass. “Can I get a beer too?”

Grant handed him the beer. “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

THE MOJITO HAD not improved Katie’s mood. She shoved another chili fry in her mouth and thought of how bleak her life looked. It wasn’t like Rock Canyon was swimming with eligible men who had steady incomes and nice manners. Her mother had always put a lot of stock in a man with manners. Jimmy had always been polite to her mother, and she had never said an unkind word against him, except that he was charming. Her mother’s tone had been less than complimentary when she’d said it and, looking back, she had probably been trying to tell her something. Even Ted Bundy had been charming.

She doodled on her napkin, her thoughts dwelling on her mother. Her strong, capable mother, who had raised her by herself after her dad had left when she was two. As far as she knew, they had never divorced, and her mother had never considered remarrying. She’d seemed fine alone, holding on to her manners and her morals like a security blanket.

Katie wondered what her mother would say about everything that had been happening the last few years. When she’d lost her to breast cancer three years ago, Katie had felt broken and lost. Her mother had been her rock. Her cheerleader. Her conscience.

Had her mother ever gotten tired of being good, tired of doing the right thing? If Katie could do anything she wanted, without repercussions . . .

Struck by an inspiring idea, she put the pen to her napkin and started making a list of the things she had always wanted to try or had always been told she shouldn’t do.

One. Get purple streaks in my hair.

When she was sixteen, she’d wanted to dye her hair purple. Her mother had told her no, that it was vulgar and a fad.

She bit the end of the pen and remembered the night after graduation, when she’d gone with all of her friends to Twin Falls and everyone had gotten a tattoo but her because she was terrified her mom would see it.

Two. Get a tattoo.

In ninth grade, when her friend Brittney Richards had stolen a pair of cheap sunglasses from Hall’s Market and been caught, her mother had told her she couldn’t hang out with Brittney anymore. Katie had tried to explain that Brittney had only taken the glasses be

cause she and Steph had dared her to, but her mother hadn’t relented.

Three. Steal something.

On and on the list went, her mother’s voice ringing in her head with “Ladies don’t do this” or “Good girls don’t do that.” She had to unfold the napkin just to make more room.

“You looked like you could use another.”

Katie’s head snapped up from her list and she covered the napkin quickly. “Hi, Chase. What are you doing here?”

Stupid question. Why else did someone go to a bar? To drink.

He slid into the seat across from her and passed her the mojito. “Shop’s closed Mondays. Didn’t feel like hanging out at home.”

“Oh. Well, thanks for the drink, but I probably shouldn’t. I need to head out soon so I can get up early. You know what they say about worms and birds.” She could tell she sounded like she was rambling, but she couldn’t help it. It happened when she got nervous.

“So you have to be up early, which begs the question . . . What brings you here?” he asked.

“I didn’t have any food in my house and didn’t feel like grocery shopping.” She tried to act casual, but the way his eyes kept shifting toward her hand was making her heart pound with anxiety.

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