Page 38 of Caught in the Axe
And as a dutiful daughter who adored my mother and wanted a better life for us both, I went along with it. I was desperate to please not just my mom, but the judges, too. I had coaches and teachers and practiced endlessly. Smiling, walking gracefully, faking the kind ofaw, shucksexcitement necessary to convey enough humility to be worthy of the crown.
“I learned a lot about the world and about myself.” And that was the honest truth. “I had some valuable life experiences, but I would never, ever put my child in pageants.”
He nodded. “They seem pretty silly and exploitive to me. I mean, being Miss Queen whatever is fairly meaningless in the grand scheme.”
“Excuse me?” I feigned offense, clutching at the string of pearls at my neck. “How dare you, sir! I was Maple Sugar Princess 2008.”
He laughed, the skin at his temples crinkling. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea I was in the presence of royalty.”
The prissy scowl I gave him only lasted a second or two before I broke into a fitof giggles.
“Does Your Majesty require a coffee and bathroom break?” he asked in a truly terrible British accent.
“Indeed, I do, good sir.”
By the time we passed Augusta, the awkwardness had mostly dissipated, and I was bored enough to push through the lingering remnants. If I didn’t find a distraction ASAP, I’d stare at his long eyelashes or strong jaw, and then my thoughts would veer into dangerous territory.
So I chattered.
We were currently debating the merits of various Maine food specialties.
“Needhams are amazing. I will die on that hill,” he declared.
“It’s potato in chocolate.”
“Not much else grows up here. It’s amazing. Deal with it.”
I shook my head, even as I grinned. “Maine is so fucking weird.”
“It is. Tourists think it’s all beaches and lobster traps, but most of this state is straight-up bizarre.”
I hummed in agreement. “When I was living in Florida, people were so fascinated when they discovered I was from Maine. Meanwhile, I’m like, Stephen King makes it look like a warm and snuggly place.”
“Have you ever visited his house in Bangor?” Owen asked.
I shook my head.
“I’ll take you. It’s super creepy. I’ve probably been therea dozen times. When I was in high school, my friends and I went to Bangor every chance we could get. It was like a metropolis compared to Lovewell.”
I smiled into my Dunkin cup. The thought of taking a fun trip with Owen made me way happier than it should. “Favorite movie?” I asked, grasping for a way to get us on more neutral ground.
He pressed his lips together and surveyed the road in front of us, considering my question.
“Ooh, no. Wait. Lemme guess.” I tapped my chin. “The Godfather? That’s the ultimate dude favorite.”
He shook his head, frowning in concentration. “It’s so hard to choose.”
“Please don’t sayTransformersor something horrible like that.”
“Fuck no.” He huffed a laugh. “Don’t get me wrong; I do enjoy a goodFast and Furiousmovie from time to time.”
“Me too,” I conceded, clasping my hands in my lap.
“I just love so many.”
“Come on. You have to have a favorite.”
“I do? Then what’s yours?” He turned and raised an eyebrow at me, one of his sexy quirks I was starting to enjoy.
