Page 87 of Bad For Me (Rock Canyon, Idaho 5)

“Not true. I always pay cash for my clothes and put business expenses on credit cards.”

“Regardless, we are here for baby shower supplies, not boots,” Callie said.

“And back to what I was saying,” Gracie said. “If you just let Everett come over, and he doesn’t have to put in the effort, all you’ll ever be is a booty call.”

“It’s not a booty call if we aren’t having sex.” Callie ignored their surprised stares as she looked in another store’s windows.

“With the way that man looks at you?” Gemma asked.

“Do we need to have the talk?” Gracie lowered her voice, adding, “Or a sex-ervention?”

“Geez, Gracie, you’re like a thirteen-year-old trapped in the body of a grown woman,” Callie muttered.

“I know; it keeps me young.” Gracie slowed down as they passed by Hot Topic. “What are you wearing to the ball?”

“Jeans and a sweater.” Callie refused to look at whatever had caught Gracie’s eye, sure it was something she’d never wear. She hadn’t been in Hot Topic since she was thirteen and spent a summer writing bad poetry and dying her hair ink-black.

“Nope, that won’t do. I can see I’m going to have to help you. It seems to be my calling, showing the fashionably challenged and repressed how to make the most of the goods God gave them.” Gracie flounced into the store ahead of them, like a queen expecting her handmaidens to follow.

Callie looked at Gemma. “Can’t you control her crazy?

“Believe me, I have tried.”

“Come along, wenches!” Gracie said before disappearing inside.

Callie and Gemma sighed simultaneously.

“Should I start running now, or . . . ”

“It wouldn’t do any good; she’d only catch you.” And with that warning, Gemma headed in after Gracie.

Callie weighed her options and finally walked through the large entryway. “There’s nothing to fear but fear itself.”

Unless you went shopping with a bubbly blonde on a mission.

“COME OUT, CALLIE, or I’m going to drag you out.”

Callie tried to ignore

Gracie, who stood on the other side of the curtained dressing room. She still had no idea how she’d ended up inside the square cubby of no escape, staring at herself in the floor-length mirror. The black pleather Batgirl costume was tight and short, definitely two things that made her uncomfortable. Besides, the low-cut bodice showed two scars, along with a generous amount of cleavage.

Someone started grabbing at the curtain, and Callie heard Gracie mutter something about looking for herself.

“Hang on, you lunatic!”

“Well, I wish you’d just come out and show us! I’m sure you look hot.”

“Do they have anything with more coverage up top?” Callie asked.

“Hang on,” Gemma said.

Callie hoped that meant Gemma was going back to look.

“Why do you want to cover the girls up?” Gracie asked.

Callie looked down at her usually unimpressive breasts, which currently looked like a couple of water balloons about to shoot across the room. Even if the scars weren’t an issue, when a costume posed a potential wardrobe malfunction, she wasn’t interested. “Because I look like my chest is going to explode.”

“Here—let me see, and I’ll tell you if it’s too much.” Gracie’s hand came around the black curtain, and Callie swiftly whacked it away.

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