Page 23 of Blue Jeans in Low Beams

“Brenna?” I try again.

“Huh?”

She whips her head around, our eyes catching briefly. Her soft brown irises send a warmth through me, like a hug. I grip the steering wheel tighter, trying to maintain control. Right about now that isn’t easy, the urge to reach out and take her hand growing by the second.

I have to get it together…

“I asked if you were okay.”

“Oh, sorry. Zoned out. Everything’s fine.”

Phew…

“Something on your mind? Wanna talk it out? Or did one of those knuckleheads do something?”

Brenna laughs, the beautiful sound filling the cab, weaving its way inside me. Like someone flipped on twinkle lights, I instantly feel the soft glow take over.

“Nothing life-altering, just a little nervous for my first day at Hickory Hills Drugs tomorrow. Don’t get me wrong—I know my drug interactions, side effects, and can count to thirty, but I’m not sure I’m prepared for Mr. Hovland.”

I nod, pretending that I know what she means. But I don’t. Because I was unaware there was anything to worry about when it came to the town pharmacist.

“He a creeper and I just don’t know it?”

“Ew, no.” She scrunches her face in disgust. Okay then, good to know. “Nothing like that. He’s just a gossip. When I interned there a couple of summers ago, that was all he did. Everyone who came in was subject to him playing town crier.”

I nod again, trying to think of my own interactions with the man. I’m not in there very often, the occasional antibiotic or something, so I can’t say I’ve been on the receiving end of whatever news he feels the need to spread. Then again, I’m probably not his target market either. The local brew guy isn’t one who’s likely to have much to share. Unless you want to hear about beer.

“Well, if that’s the worst of it, then it shouldn't be that bad, right? And it will be good practice for your boards.”

“It will. A friend of mine who graduated last year said the test was mostly drug interactions, chemical structures, and pharmacokinetics, so that’s where I’m trying to do some focus studying, but that’s the thing about these kinds of tests. They’re adaptive—designed so that no two people get the exact same questions. They cycle things in and out all the time, so it’s anyone’s guess as to what’s going to be on there. There is a reason people talk about this being one of the most stressful experiences of their lives.”

“That sounds like a lot.”

“It is. And there’s a national and a state portion of this. Because every state is different.”

“This is making me really glad I chose to brew beer for a living.”

“Still plenty of chemistry involved there.”

“Sure, but it’s easier chemistry. Fun chemistry.”

“All chemistry is fun.”

I disagree with her there, but don’t dare tell her. I’ll let her have this one. Because there is nothing “fun” about dealing with any of the mineral stuff. Or any of the metals. Really, any and all inorganic chemistry.

The conversation lulls as I turn onto the main road, making our way back to the center of town. Brenna turns back toward the window, appearing to get lost in thought again. I can’t blame her; she’s got a lot on her plate this summer. That test sounds brutal.

Still, my older brother Spidey senses are tingling, making me wonder if that’s really all that is on her mind. Or maybe I just want to keep her talking, enjoying hearing about things she’s passionate about.

“As long as that’s all it is,” I push. “Hate to think we did something. Didn’t treat a guest right at dinner, Miss Belle would have our heads.”

Brenna rolls her eyes, silently laughing. “Milo, just what do you think happened?”

“I dunno.” I shrug, giving her my signature smirk, hoping that it will brighten that smile even more. And it does. Mission accomplished. “Maybe one of them said something. Made a rude comment. Hell, you made a dessert that had Anton’s favorite candy in it, and I didn’t hear him thank you.”

“He thanked me.”

I glance at her sideways, questioning that response.