Page 15 of More Than a Helping Hand

I’m meeting Anderson in thirty minutes at a place fifteen minutes away. That’s just enough time. After entering the address to make sure I don’t get lost on the way, I pull away from the curb and give myself a peptalk as I drive.

A mile from the restaurant, I pull into a gas station that looks like there is a high chance the bathrooms won’t make me want to hurl. I sling my purse over my shoulder and make my way inside. I buy a bag of Nerds Gummy Clusters because I feel guilty using the bathroom if I don’t buy something, and also, I’ll have something to eat on the way home if he stands me up and I don’t end up staying for dinner.

After paying, I toss the candy in my purse and find the ladies’ room. It’s cleaner than I expected and actually has a counter, which will make putting on makeup easier.

I dab on the foundation, blending it in at the edges so that it doesn’t look like I stopped at a gas station and painted on my face. Then I smudge a little concealer under my eyes to hide the dark circles. I’m not even thirty, but I look old. And tired.

A young woman, probably in her late teens, walks up to the sink beside me and washes her hands. “Want me to do the rest of your makeup? I’m pretty good at it.”

I stare because one—I’m unsure about the rules of makeup etiquette in a gas station bathroom, and two—I don’t know if I’m brave enough to let a young pretty stranger design my face. Or decide my fate.

She pulls out her phone and opens Instagram. “I post videos about makeup sometimes. I just like doing it. And you look a little panicked. You’re really pretty, but I know that feeling good can make a big difference. I promise I’m not going to make it look like you’re about to go clubbing. Unless you are about to go clubbing. Then I’ll totally go that route.”

That makes me laugh. “In this outfit? No. This is just dinner.” I’m careful not to use the word date.

The pictures she shows are nice, and if it’s horrible, I’ll just stop at the next gas station and wash it all off. So I nod. “Sure okay. I really have no clue what I’m doing when it comes to makeup.”

“I’ll tell my date to give me ten minutes. He’s a sweetheart, so it’s no biggie.” She shoots off a text, then sets her purse on the counter. “Okay, so dinner, huh? Is he cute?”

“Yes. He’s by far the best-looking man who has ever asked me out. I’m not even sure why he wants to go out with a short, chubby single mom. Maybe he’s going to pitch a timeshare and is just reeling me in.”

She laughs. “You aren’t giving yourself enough credit.”

“I’m so nervous that I’m nauseous. And it doesn’t help that I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“My older brother gets after me when he hears I’ve been skipping meals. But some days I’m just busy or preoccupied, and I forget to eat. So I get it.” She rummages through my bag and pulls out eye shadows, eyeliner, and brushes. “Okay. Close your eyes.”

Letting a stranger apply my makeup in a gas station bathroom has to be one of the most random things I’ve ever done. It’s too early to know if it’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.

As nervous as I am, it’s a struggle to stay still, but after a few minutes, she says, “You can look now.”

My makeup is perfect, much better than if I’d done it myself.

“This is amazing. Thank you.” I reach for my purse. “I think I have some cash.”

She puts up a hand and shakes her head. “You don’t need to pay me. I’m glad you love it. And I hope you have a fabulous evening on your date.”

She just had to go and use that word.

I breathe through my panic. “Thank you. He’s a cowboy. More than a foot taller than I am, and did I mention hot?”

Laughing, she taps out another text, then puts all the makeup back into my bag. “This was fun. I’ve never offered to do this for a total stranger before.”

“I can’t believe I said yes.”

We both laugh at that.

She waves, then walks out of the bathroom.

I stare at my reflection. “Have fun, Prim. Just enjoy the evening.”

Easier said than done, but I’m going to try.

CHAPTER6

ANDERSON

Sitting on a bench outside the restaurant, I drag my sweaty palms on my jeans. I have Bailey to thank for this dinner that’s not a date. And I intend to charm Primrose into going out with me again, even if that dinner isn’t a date either.

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