“I can’t argue with you there,” I said, shrugging into a chocolate brown satin skirt before jumping to a new topic. “So, you’re telling me you’re just coolabout this whole casual hookup thing with Booker?” I questioned.
“Iamcool with this casual hookup thing, thank you very much.”
“Sure, you are.” I snagged the oatmeal-colored sweater from my bed and pulled it over my head. “When have you ever been okay with anything casual?”
“We’re just feeling each other out.”
“Oh, you’re definitely feeling each other out. There’s no doubt about that. But I know you’re a commitment kind of gal, and I’m not sure Booker knows the definition of commitment. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up, that’s all.”
Her shoulders dropped. “I know. I love you for that. But I promise, right now, I’m actually okay with whatever it is we have going on. It works for us.”
“If you say so. Just be sure to tell him that if he fucks you around, he’s got me to deal with,” I said, swaying to my closet for some boots and a belt.
“Trust me, he knows.”
I pulled my brown suede cowboy boots up my calf, walking toward the full-length wooden mirror that hung on the wall across from my bed. My head tilted to the left—as if that provided a better view—as I wrapped a leather belt with gold hardware around my waist.
“Belt or no belt?”
“Oh. I like the belt. Damn, you look good. I thought you were just going to work at theTribune?” she joked.
“I am, but I want to make a good impression.”
“I’m kidding. You look great. They’re lucky to have you.”
The reflection in the mirror made me giddy. I liked what I saw, and I was ready to start on this new adventure, even if it was just a small-town newspaper.
It was a start nonetheless.
“Speaking of Booker…” She held up her phone. “He just asked if I wanted to grab dinner later after he finishes up with Stetson.”
“Finishes up with Stetson?” I asked while fidgeting with the silky material of my skirt.
“They’ve been converting one of George’s old barns into a recording studio.”
“Wait, really? Well, I guess that adds up.” Maggie had a confused look on her face, so I continued. “Stetson was at George’s the other day and I was confused how him and George knew each other, but if he’s letting them build a recording studio on his property, that would make sense why he was there.”
“Excuse me?” She sat up, pushing herself off the headboard. “You’re just going to casually say Stetson was at George’s the other day as if that doesn’t need more of an explanation?”
I tugged my sweater back over my head, buying myself some more time.
“It’s not that serious,” I said, downplaying the situation.
I didn’t want her to think that I’d kept anything important from her. And it wasn’t important. Honestly, I didn’t know why I hadn’t told her yet. Part of me worried that if I talked about Stetson with Maggie, then it would mean somewhere, deep down, I was hoping for more. And right now, I shouldn’t be hoping for anything other than another day off my couch.
“Spill it, Scar,” she demanded.
“I swear, it’s nothing. I went to George’s to tell him about the job, and when I got there, I was met with Stetson instead,” I said.
“And?” she pushed, scooting herself to the edge of the bed as though she was waiting for me to tell her something juicy.
“And nothing. We talked. George joined us. Then George left. Stetson talked me into going on a ride—”
“A ride? That doesn’t sound like nothing. That sounds like something to me.”
“We took the horses to the clearing and talked. That’s it.”
“Well, what did you talk about?” Maggie wasn’t very good at subtle. She’d pry and then pry harder until she squeezed everything out of you.
