Page 26 of Late Bloomer
“I’m nobody,” Opal says before I can take a breath. “Swear. Nothing to worry about.”
My eyebrows pinch. “What a truly bizarre thing to say.”
Opal turns to me, flapping her hands in front of her, a deep pink crawling up her neck and across her cheeks. There’s something a bit… captivating about that blush.
“I mean… um, I didn’t want your girlfriend to think anything weird was happening.”
My gaze clashes with Diksha’s, and we stare at each other like we’re racing to solve an extremely complex math equation.
Then we burst out laughing.
Diksha leans toward me, one hand resting on my shoulder as she sucks in a deep breath, her entire body shaking. I bury my head in my hands when a small snort escapes.
A high-pitched, sort of hysterical sound peals through thebarn, and I look at Opal. She’s pretending to… laugh? I guess? Eyes wide and mouth in a broad and terrifying smile.
“We’re not together,” I say, gesturing between my body and Diksha’s.
“Pepper wishes,” Diksha says. I give her a tiny shove at her additional round of incredulous giggles. “I’m a married woman,” Diksha adds, proffering her ring finger like she’s flipping Opal off.
“Oh,” Opal says, her mouth pinching into the word’s shape. She nods a few times, the blush still staining her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.
“So the question still stands: Who the hell are you?” Diksha says, eyebrows quirked up as she takes a step toward her. Opal jerks back, stepping again on a rake and causing more clanging of my tools. I see Diksha’s lips twitch in satisfaction.
Although Diksha barely reaches my shoulder, she has a tendency to turn into a towering mama bear whenever someone new is around. She’s ruthless and quick and can read people like every motive is written on their skin. And she’s always on extra high alert when it comes to me.
It’s mildly embarrassing to admit that, as an adult woman, I kind of need her protection. But I’ve trusted the wrong people enough times to rely on her gut instinct more than my own.
“This is Opal,” I say, since Opal seems to be too flustered to talk. “She… well, I guess she technically owns the farm.”
“You found the will?” Diksha whips to me, eyes blown wide, lines of worry scouring her face.
I let out the world’s longest sigh, sharp tension building behind my eyes and down my neck. I haven’t told Diksha anything about the past week, unable to force myself to talk about it, listen to her tell me all the things I have to do to fix this situation. “Not exactly.”
There’s a pause, then Diksha makes an exasperated gesture, swirling her wrists in large circles like she can conjure the details from thin air.
“It’s…” I glance at Opal. Her mouth is pinched and brow furrowed. Something about her guilty look makes me feel… I’m not sure exactly how it makes me feel, but I know it’s a tiny bit soft and tender and totally ridiculous. “It’s a long story that, of course, involves Trish.”
Diksha doesn’t miss a beat, launching into an exceptionally graphic yet clever monologue of curses for Trish that starts withneglectful crusty washclothand ends withdelinquent twat stain.
“That was amazing,” Opal whispers when Diksha pauses long enough to suck in a breath.
Diksha gives her a double take. “And are you in cahoots with Trish?” she asks, moving toward Opal again.
Opal’s eyes widen, and she trips backward, landing squarely against the wall of the barn, head jolting forward from the impact and making me wince in sympathy. “No. I mean, kind of. But not really. I don’t… I’m not…” Opal looks at me with pure desperation as she rubs the back of her skull.
I rest a hand on Diksha’s shoulder, tugging her back and inserting myself between the two. “Opal’s an innocent componentof Trish’s latest scheme.” I give Diksha the broad strokes of this twisted situation, and the fact that she looks as worried as I feel is not much help.
“This is unbelievable,” Diksha says, still eyeing Opal with distrust.
I give a helpless shrug.Unbelievableabout sums it up.
“So, what? You’re just letting this stranger stay here? Are you nuts?” Diksha says, turning on me.
“We did come up with a pretty rock-solid no-murder rule on the first night,” Opal says from her corner. “It’s sticking so far.”
Diksha doesn’t laugh, but some demented part of me does, and Opal’s lips part in surprise, then kick up in a soft smile.
“Please tell me you have a plan, Pepper. I’m begging you.”
