Nope. Not happening.
I spun around, but Ruth’s cane whacked against my shins to stop me in my tracks. Trapped. There was no escaping the horrors awaiting me in that bag. She ripped off the tissue paper and pulled out a blue button-up shirt and a pair of scratchy trousers that looked like something my accountant would wear.
“No.” I folded my arms over my chest. “Absolutely not.”
“But look how nice this shirt is!” Ruth pressed the fabric against her cheek. “It’s made from organic linen. It’s so soft. And see, this blue is pretty but masculine and will show off your eyes—”
“No one’s looking at my damn eyes.”
Ruth shoved the pile of clothes at me. “You’re putting these on, and you’re going to like it.”
“No.”
She gritted her teeth. “Put. On. The. Clothes.”
I narrowed my eyes. I was deadly serious about those ugly clothes never touching my skin.
Ruth’s chin wobbled.
Goddammit.
She blinked slowly to blot crocodile tears down her cheeks. “You want me to suffer? Is that what you want? I thought we were friends!”
“Ruth…”
“Imagine what people must say about me! Oh, that Ruth Wilks. She used to be a top-notch police officer once, but look at her now.” She cracked open one tearstained eye to peek at mebefore continuing to wail. “Nothing but a forgotten spinster. Put her out to pasture. No one will miss her.”
“Give me those.” I snatched the pile of clothes from her hands. “One day, your wobbly chin won’t work on me anymore.”
Ruth twittered a laugh. “The wobbly chin never fails. Go!”
I lumbered down the hallway to the bathroom, cursing under my breath and wondering where the hell I went wrong with my life. Was it that time I stuffed the last piece of birthday cake into my mouth at Tommy Winslow’s tenth birthday party? That cake was damn good. It had pink frosting and sprinkles. But was it worth it? Was it all downhill from there?
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, Ruth called out to me from down the hallway.
“Make sure you have a shower! I don’t want you smelling like some seedy motel off the highway for this! There’s a nice body wash on the shelf for you. Oh! And fix your hair! Do it nice!” And before I slammed the bathroom door, she yelled a final instruction in case my head wasn’t already spinning. “Brush your teeth!”
Harry didn’t dare laugh at me when I stomped down the steps, primped and preened to Ruth’s satisfaction. My face was a storm. He got the message. He slunk off the porch swing and back to my truck with nothing more than a smirk.
I slid into the driver’s seat, dragged on my seat belt, and tugged at the sleeves of that awful shirt to fold them up to my elbows. That fabric was scratchy as shit. It was nearly as bad as the pants.
“Soft, my arse,” I muttered.
Ruth snickered in the back seat.
“I heard that,” I said.
Harry grinned. “Chin for the win!”
“You’re not helping,” I warned him.
I glanced in the rearview mirror. Ruth’s eyes sparkled like the fairy lights she’d had me twist through the branches of the stunted birch tree out the front of her place. Maybe clothes only fit for the incinerator were worth seeing her smile so big for the first time in years.Maybe.
I pulled into the parking lot out the back of the bar, slowing down for the swarm of people milling around. Fridays at the Old Cellar were busy, but this was on a whole new level. I gripped the steering wheel tighter.
You can do it, you weak bastard. Hold it together. It’s just one night.
Harry whooped out a cheer. “Games Night! Awesome!” He leant forward, fingers on the dash. He wasn’t looking at the crowd with puke lurching in his throat like me. He was excited. “I completely forgot this was on!”
