Page 64 of Moonshine Kiss
Yours always,
Bowie
Say yes? Yes to what? Forgiving him? Dating him? Getting naked with him? Marrying him? Or all of it?
The station door opened and one of the baristas from Yee Haw Yarn and Coffee strolled in, yanking earbuds out of her ears.
“Got a delivery for y’all,” she announced, hefting a tray of to-go coffees.
“Woo wee!” Fanny Sue was a sucker for Yee Haw’s coffee. It beat the station sludge hands down.
“It’s from Bowie Bodine,” the barista announced shimmying her shoulders. “He wanted to make sure his girlCassidygot the good stuff today.” She cracked her gum and wiggled her eyebrows.
I whipped my head around to make sure the conference room door was still shut tight.
“Keep the Bowie part zipped around Mr. Sunshine,” Fanny Sue advised, jerking a thumb toward the conference room. “It’s on the down low.”
“More like low down,” I muttered.
“What was that you were saying about not having a boyfriend?” Bex asked wickedly, reaching for a cup of coffee.
“Shut. Up. We’re not dating. In fact, he’s the last man on the planet I’d date.”
“You’ve got red glitter all over your face,” Fanny Sue pointed out.
“I told you she’d open the card,” Bex said.
“I hate you all,” I said. I still took one of the cups of coffee. But only because it would be a sin to dump Yee Haw coffee down the drain. And I had those pastries on my desk. Ill-gotten pastries, of course. I should throw them in the trash. Or better yet, save them until tonight and then go next door and smash them in Bowie’s face.
But he’d just try and kiss me again, and my body would do that thing where it wouldn’t stop him because it was too busy trying to get naked.
Damn it. I needed back-up.
* * *
“Thanks for meeting me, Juney,”I said, sliding into the booth across from her at Moonshine.
“Why do they keep changing the specials?” June asked, staring at her menu. “I like having the open-faced turkey on Tuesdays. Turkey Tuesdays. Now, it’s a meatball sub.”
“You like meatball subs,” I pointed out.
“On Saturday nights. Not on Turkey Tuesdays.”
“Why would it taste any different on a Tuesday?” I asked, not necessarily wanting the June version.
“I have my dietary needs carefully mapped out throughout the week to optimize my nutritional intake. I’m getting my period Sunday so I need red meat on Saturday to increase my iron levels.”
I was already sorry I had asked. “Get the turkey then.”
“It’s not on special,” June argued.
“Juney, you make more money than half the people in this town combined. Spend the extra two bucks and quit complaining.” June was an actuary, and though none of us knew exactly what that meant, I knew that she worked with numbers and made a lot of money. My sister had always had a brain for numbers. Her investment portfolio made her the Bootleg Springs version of Richard Branson. She had a finger in just about everything.
“I’m notcomplaining. I’mexplaining. You asked. I answered.”
I was beginning to think I’d made a big mistake coming to June for advice on my love life.
“Hey, y’all.” Leah Mae looking fashionable in an oversized pumpkin-colored sweater and leggings chirped. “Mind if I join you?”
