Page 52 of The Best Kind of Bad

I flush, turning back to my mixer.

“Dusty and I went to school together. From kindergarten on. All four of those boys were in my class. We called them the Golden Boys.”

I think of the four of them, all blessed by good genetics. Nothing but impressive height and masculine beauty. “Seems appropriate.”

“They were so high above the rest of us. Dusty was the only one of the four who could really hang with anybody. His buds were rich, but Dusty’s parents weren’t, so I think he had one foot in each world.”

I nod, pouring cake batter into the pans I prepared.

She looks up at me. “You don’t always know what people are going through in high school, but Dusty’s troubles were front page news. His dad died when he was just a kid.”

“He mentioned that.”

“Car accident when we were in fourth grade. It was kind of awful, to be honest. And then his mom found out she had lupus…”

“That’s rough.”

“She fought it for a few years, but then got some sort of infection.” She pauses, fiddling with the frosting bag. “I guess he had to help with the bills and all that. Probably had to grow up pretty fast.”

I slide the pans in the oven and lean against the counter, studying her. Subtlety is obviously not her strong suit. I remember being her age. Thinking not only that it was within my ability to fix other people, but a righteous calling. People are struggling? My job to fix things.

Time has disabused me of that philosophy. I’m more likely to take people as they are without trying to meddle. I’m pretty sure her heart is in the right place, but there’s something patronizing about the way she airs Dusty’s past. It makes him look pathetic.

Which he is not.

He’s a good man, even if he is a little promiscuous, loyal and generous. Always ready with a smile, and that’s not something you can say about most people.

I grab my bowls and shove them in the sink. “Let’s talk about something else.”

34.

Dusty

I once attended a wedding in a metal outbuilding. They used duct tape to hang Christmas lights to the walls, and the groom wore cargo shorts and flip-flops.

This wedding is also in a barn, but it’s classier.

Like, a world away, classier.

If I’m honest, though, there’s a questionable amount of cow décor.

RayAnne’s new husband is a cattle rancher and I guess she took the theme and ran with it.

I spot Josh and Erin talking to the groom. It figures Josh would know him. He’s a cattle rancher, too. Lingering by the doors, I scan the crowd, looking for Bo and Andy.

I pause by the cake table, amazed by Marnie’s handiwork.

For all I know, RayAnne requested a cow themed cake, but what she got is a work of God-damn art. Marnie literally painted delicate wildflowers across the cake’s smooth surface.

I didn’t know cake could be that beautiful.

For the first time, I start to question if Marnie really would fit in around here. I just assumed she was a regular old baker, just like Edna Korra. But these cakes are really and truly on another level. She should be baking cakes for wealthy clients, or galas, or whatever people do. Her work is too good for a wedding out in the sticks.

I glance over at her. She’s having an animated conversation with the bride’s mother. I’d like to help her by carrying boxes or whatever she needs, but ever since the ball game, she’s been giving me the cold shoulder.

I guess we’re fighting.

Andy Reed stopped over earlier in the day, and I knew that could only spell trouble for me. That girl is a busybody with a capitol B. Lord only knows what skeletons she decided to yank out of my closet.

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