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Bright yellow.
Why in the fuck didn’t I find that last night?
“There it is,” I mutter, disgusted with myself.
“I’m just going to slip this on. Linc is going to give me some surfing pointers on his break,” she says.
I just bet he is. I don’t say anything but slowly my humiliation is turning to anger. That only gets worse when Bella undresses in front of me, showing me exactly the kind of women Linc sleeps with.
The exact opposite of me.
I must have hit him on a night when his stable was busy, or he was just bored with perfection. Bella has lived in a tanning bed—or she sunbathes nude regularly. The latter is probably far more likely. Her breasts are completely perky, but then she’s probably only nineteen. I mean, I’m not old, and mine are reasonably perky. Of course, I’m only a B-cup. Bella is at least a C or maybe a D. I may have to invest in eye bleach when I notice that she’s completely hair free everywhere—and I mean everywhere.
Once she gets her bikini on, she tosses the cut-offs and tank on the floor—making it clear that she’ll be back—then slips her sandals back on.
“See ya’ later,” she tosses over her shoulder.
I’m lying naked in Linc’s bed, the covers pulled up to my neck and feeling like I need to throw up.
1
Jodie
Present Day
“I hear the sirens,” the woman says through my headset.
“Good. You should be fine now,” I respond, satisfied I’ve done my job.
“Thank you,” she says, but she’s distracted because I can already hear the paramedics coming inside. I click off the phone and smile up at Sheriff Larson who just walked up to my desk.
“Thanks for working a double shift, Jodie. You really helped get us out of a jam.”
“No problem, Sheriff. I hope Clara will be okay.”
“She’ll be okay. Her bursitis is just kicking in. We’re hosting a job fair next week. I’m hoping we can fill a few positions with that. We may need you to work overtime a few more days, though.”
“It’s cool. I’ll just postpone my cruise around the world until next month,” I laugh.
“Funny,” he laughs, walking away. I secure the stuff in my desk and wave to Wanda in the cubicle across from me.
Standing up, I rub the back of my neck, trying to work out the kink that has formed from almost sixteen hours of being on the phone. I grab my purse and head outside. It’s dark. The streetlights are bright, though, and I make it to my car without issue. Cherry Falls is a relatively safe place to live that feels like a small town, and that’s despite being a thriving beach town that is centrally located to mountains and popular urban areas.
I smile as I make it to my brand-new, pearl white, convertible Chevy Camaro. I bought it after waking up naked in Lincoln Locke’s bed and realizing that taking chances wasn’t for me. I wasn’t strong enough—or apparently smart enough. Lula—which is what I named my car—is my baby, but it’s also a reminder. A reminder that if I want to be reckless, there are better ways to do it than to do something that can get your self-esteem crushed, expose you to God knows what, and break your heart.
I hop in and barely get on the road with the light comes on telling me that I need gas. It’s late, and getting gas is the last thing I want to do. I’m regretting my decision to just head straight into work today.
I pull into the Fast and Go, which is across from Blake Brothers Auto Repair. I’ve always loved Blake Brothers. I always take my car there when I need it worked on. It has a vintage feel, from the shop sign to the antique gas pumps outside and writing on the windows, like they used to do in the fifties. I stare at it for a moment with a smile. Sometimes, I wish I could have lived in the fifties. It just seems life would have been a lot simpler. I could have totally rocked life back then.
I’m such a dweeb. I laugh at myself—something I do often. My dad always says if you can’t laugh at yourself, then you can’t laugh at anyone else. I’m not sure that’s the correct idiom, but that’s the thing about Dad—he twists things to say whatever he wants.
I fumble around to find my credit card in my wallet and then get out to pump some petrol into my car. I grin because that’s just another thing my dad always says. I don’t know if it’s considered cool to be as close to your parents as I am, but I don’t really care. My parents have always been there for me, and I know they will always have my back no matter what. It’s also probably not cool to still live at home—even if it is the studio apartment above their garage.
