Page 57 of Grit
She turned back. “The spokesman for the holding company who bought the ranch is named Kevin Fontaine. Isn’t he a friend of Devin’s?”
Greg looked like he smelled something bad. “I’m not an expert on Devin’s friends, Melissa.”
“Oh, I was just thinking you could probably ask him about it.”You know all about it, you lying liar.“If you wanted to know more, I mean.”
“Other than Abby, I’m not too interested in what goes on in Oakville.” His eyes turned calculating. “Now, if you’re asking for a favor—”
“Nope.” She’d rather die. “I’ll find out the information I need. Just thought it was interesting. Right now Allen Ranch is the talk of the town.”
“Well, that’s not too difficult.”
“Right.” Melissa smiled wide. “You guys have a great weekend. Ask Bev to send me pics, okay?”
Greg nodded. “Melissa.”
“Greg.”
She walked back to her truck and started the engine, watching as Abby and Greg pulled away.
What did Greg know about Allen Ranch? Because one thing was sure.
He knew exactly what she’d been talking about.
Melissa stoodin front of the mirror in her room, staring at the dress she’d put on and trying not to panic.
It was too short. Had it always been so short? It wasn’t like she’d grown taller in the six years since Calvin had passed. When had she bought this thing? It couldn’t be that old. Had it shrunk? It fit everywhere else, it just seemed way too short.
“Melissa?” her mother called from the kitchen. “What do you want to do for dinner?”
“I’m going out, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right!” Joan sounded overly cheerful. “Who with?”
Melissa sighed. “A friend, Mom.”
That was true. Cary was a friend. A friend she kissed and regularly fought with, but definitely a friend.
“Okay.”
The lack of more questions told Melissa that Joan knew exactly what she was doing. It was probable that Cary had told Rumi they were going on a date, and Rumi would have immediately told Joan.
Melissa tugged on the hem of the dress. No good. It was hopelessly short, and there was nothing more to be done. If she stayed in her room any longer, she’d change back into her work clothes and call the whole thing off. And she wasn’t going to do that. She wasn’t a chicken.
She walked to the door and turned the knob before she paused.
Cluck, cluck, Melissa.
She opened the door and walked to the bathroom. Then she proceeded to do something she rarely did. She put on makeup. Not a lot, but enough to make it obvious.
This is a date.
I am dressing up.
I will be kissing you at the end of the night.
Maybe more?
She paused while applying blush.
