Page 99 of Darlin'

I give James a weak smile. "Nice to see you again, James."

"You look incredible, Savannah." James doesn't hesitate to yank my arm up and plant a kiss on my hand. "Ididn't think you could get more beautiful, yet here we are."

Ew.

"Mayor Lockwood," Daddy chimes in, turning his attention to Beau and Marlow. "I'd like you to meet my son and his fiancée. They're visiting us from...Europe."

Is that the story? Beau's been in Europe these past three years? Oh boy.

"Pleased to meet you," Mayor Lockwood says, shaking Beau and Marlow's hands. "Where in Europe are you visiting from?"

"So, Savannah, I think that—" James sits down in an empty chair beside me as Beau manages to lie his ass off to the Mayor of Mobile. Family of fibbers, that's what we are. "Savannah?"

"Huh?" I shake my head, realizing I'm completely ignoring whatever nonsense is pouring out of poor James's mouth. "Sorry, what did you say?"

He grins, running a hand through his perfectly groomed hair. "I said, are you free this weekend? My parents are hosting a fundraiser for trees or bees or something, and I'd love to have a pretty thing like you on my arm for the evening." He flashes me his artificially whitened smile. "What do you say?"

I inwardly scoff. "Do I look an accessory to you, James Lockwood? If you want something pretty on your arm, I can recommend a darling little boutique that specializes in jewels for the obtuse."

James throws his head back and chuckles. "And she's funny too!" He looks up at my momma. "I don't remember her being this feisty back in the day."

"Neither do I," Momma say through a fake smile, scolding me with her eyes alone. "Savannah's spent the summer on the west coast; perhaps she left some of her manners behind." She tilts her head. "I'm sure she'd love to join you this weekend, wouldn't you, Savannah?"

"Don't you have to"—Marlow nods toward the hanging clock—"go get ready or something? It's almost your call time."

"Right!" I jump out of my seat. "Can't be late to the finale, can I?" Patting James on the shoulder, I mimic my momma's phony smile. "We'll talk later, okay?"

"But—"

I pretend I don't hear him as I dash out of the restaurant and high tail toward the dressing rooms. Most people only need an hour to get ready, but when you're on a televised pageant, the minimum time one requires is three hours.

A full three hours.

"Now remember, the final question is worth the most points," Momma says a couple of hours later as she douses my hair in a gallon of hairspray.

“I know, I know,” I say as the stage manager yells, "two minutes to showtime."

Momma lets out a heavy exhale, more nervous than I am. "Make sure to keep your answer simple, sweet, and positive. Don't go off on any tangents, okay?"

"I'll be fine, momma! It's not my first rodeo.” I cough, waving my hand in front of my face. "I think that's enough hairspray Momma, unless you want me seeing flying unicorns.”

"Okay!" Momma sucks in a nervous breath as shekisses my cheek. "You got this, Savannah! Stand tall and act confident!"

"Will do!" I toss her a sassy thumbs up and get in line with the other contestants as our cue music starts blaring and the host's voice booms from the speakers.

"Your mom's cute," Iowa whispers as we make our way to the stage. "Mine didn't even wanna come."

"She's something alright," I whisper back as bright stage lights nearly blind me. "Good luck."

"You too!"

"Iowa!" The host announces, and a spotlight shines on Connie. "Alabama!" I smile and wave to the audience. "New York..."

After introductions, I patiently wait for my turn in the hot seat. I hate going last during these things. It messes with my nerves. I'd rather get it over and done with. But's fine. It'll be fine.

"Thank you, New York," the host says. "Last but certainly not least, please give a round of applause for Alabama, Savannah Kingsley."

Here goes nothing. I hop off my stool and head to the podium.

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