Page 58 of Austin
“It felt like it.” Stupid, but it had. She’d been hard on herself for a long, long time…and that was going to stop. This time she’d temper her self-discipline and drive with some self-care.
Whitney gave her head a shake. “Remember how I played T-ball and you didn’t?”
Kristen frowned at her, wondering what had caused her to dredge up that particular memory. “Because I had trouble hitting the ball—”
“And running.”
Kristen snorted. “So it took me a while to learn to bend my arms. Big deal.”
“Anyway,” Whitney continued, “I was tearing up the ball diamond, and you weren’t, and Mom used to say—”
“That’s okay. Kristy is good at school.”
“Exactly.”
Kristen let out a sigh. She didn’t need a degree in psychology to understand that that simple statement, spoken like a mantra during sporting events, had sown a seed. Kristywouldbe good at school, and her job, come hell or high water.
Whitney gave her a weary smile. “I know it wasn’t purposeful on the folks’ part—heaven help me, when I have a kid, I’ll probably screw him up every which way from Sunday—but I think celebrating our ‘differences’ might have just scarred us a little.”
“It wasn’t them. It was me. I let old habits run my life instead of taking a long hard look.”
Kristen reached for the ice tea pitcher and poured a refill. “I guess scars make us tough.”
Whitney turned in her chair, then held up her leg, showing the cleat marks in her calf from her days playing softball. “I’m real tough.”
“I’m tougher than I was.”
Whitney put her foot back on the floor. “Yeah? What made you tough? Getting fired?”
“Laid off. Yes, that, and serving drinks in a casino bar. And—”
She was about to say, in the most casual of ways, ‘traveling with Austin,’ when Whitney interrupted her. “You served drinks?”
“For six whole days, and yes, I should have told you. I’m telling you now.”
“How’d that go?”
“I wore a saloon girl costume.”
Whitney’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her head. “You wouldn’t wear Halloween costumes!”
“I made up for it. Believe me. It was so low cut I thought my boobs were going to pop out at any second. And I wore fishnet stockings that felt like cheese graters on my feet.”
“You were that desperate?”
“Yep.”
“Did you get decent tips?”
“I sucked at getting tips. And I got fired.”
Whitney laughed, but it wasn’t in any way hurtful. “I’m not surprised. No offense.”
“None taken.” Kristen gave a small snort of laughter. “I was not a good waitress. But I met Austin while I was working and he agreed to give me a ride home.” That sounded suitably casual. Just a matter of meeting a hometown guy and bumming a ride when she needed it. Or so she thought.
“Before or after you got fired.”
“After.”
