Page 97 of Space Cowgirl: Houston, All Systems Go
Jackie rushes over to close the blinds. “You almost died!”
I roll my eyes. “I didnotalmost die.” Well, I could’ve, if the dive specialists weren’t amazing and got me out within seconds of my distress signal. But theyareamazing and so I didn’t.
“Someone cut your air supply and you passed out!” Everything Jackie directs at me is shouted. It’s like she’s lost her volume control.
“For like a few seconds,” I say dismissively, trying to calm her down, but I lean toward Trish for protection in case Jackie goes scary-eyes again. “A few seconds is not something to get your titties in a twist over.”
Trish cough-laughs, squeezing my shoulder in warning.
Jackie sucks in a large breath, but it comes out staggered as she stutters… “Titties... I... I just can’t.” Her volume level has regulated, but I think I might have broken her brain.
Rose saunters into the room. “I think the phrase you’re looking for is ‘I can’t even.’” She’s playing her normal, everyday self, for which I’m grateful, but she isn’t fooling anyone with those swollen eyes. “But,” Rose continues, as nonchalantly as possible, “Ihavetwisted my titties, so I can, and that shit is uncomfortable.”
“I…” Jackie glances at Flynn for help. “What ishappening?”
Flynn steps in, curling an arm around Jackie’s shoulders. “You know my sister and Jules are both nutcases.” He gestures between the two of us. “All this means is that everything’s back to normal.” He leads his lost-looking fiancée out of the room. “Why don’t we fix Jules some dinner?”
“Please God, order out!” I call. “You know neither of you can cook!”
Flynn shoots me a look over his shoulder. Trish sighs. Rose and I just snicker.
“I’ll go make sure they don’t try and cook.” Rose punches me lightly on my bicep. “Boondoggles’ pizza?”
The last time I ate my favorite pizza was with Holt. Just the memory of plucking an artichoke off his boxers has me rubbing that spot on my sternum. “Ah, how about Meat Market pulled-pork baked potatoes instead?”
“Really?” She looks as shocked as I feel to realize her stupid cowboy brother may have ruined Florentini pizza for me.
I force a smile. “Yep.”
“All right then.” Rose moves to the door. “I’ll go look up the Meat Market’s menu and put in an order.” She looks at Trish. “You want anything?”
“I’ll have the lean pulled pork salad, please.”
“Of course you will.” Rose rolls her eyes and heads out of the room.
Leaving me with Trish, aka Miss Patty.
“So,” I draw out, patting the spot on the bed next to me. “You going to tell me why I had to chase a PI from Georgia away from your trailer with your shotgun the other night?”
Open-mouthed, Trish drops to the bed, probably the most un-ladylike thing I’ve ever seen her do.
“What …?”
I lean my head back, relishing a bed I can actually stretch out on. It’s the only reason I gave in to Jackie’s insistence that I ‘rest.’ After the last few days in the Airstream, simply spreading out starfish-style feels luxurious. “Or the fact that you are wanted by the law in the Peach State?”
“I am not!” She pauses. “I think?”
“Oh, Miss Patty, you sure have some ’splaining to do.”
“I… uh…”
“As fun as it is to finally see you lose that polished exterior you wear so well, I can’t let it slide this time.”
Trish’s nostrils flare, and I get a sick sense of satisfaction from pissing her off. Maybe that lack of oxygen made me mean. Ha. Who am I kidding, I was always this evil.
I lean back, folding my arms behind my head. “I haven’t questioned you about a lot of things, thinking I was being a good friend—the shotgun, the moving around all the time, and don’t get me started with those notebooks you keep in a basket on the floor.”
Trish straightens. “I never should’ve let you stay at the trailer.”
