Betty paused for a moment, almost as if daring anyone to try to prevent her from pushing the whole damn shed into the creek—just before it pushed the whole damn tin box into the creek.
The vehicle landed on top of the shed with a sploosh of water spraying upward around its sides, smashing it against the rocks beneath.
Then nothing but a distant cow mooing and the wind greeted his stunned ears.
Gus closed the distance between him and Ridge to stand beside him. He slapped Ridge on the back. “Towel? Maybe if we give ol’ Betty a good wipe down, she’ll be good as new.”
Clive used his lips to play a mournful, spit-flying-everywhere version of Taps.
Ridge’s shoulders sagged as he took off his Stetson and held it over his heart in mourning.
Goddess rest Betty Boop’s soul.
Chapter 7
Bernie paced the floor of her bedroom, stopping only to hike up her yellow velour tracksuit pants before she retraced her steps, worrying her lower lip with two fingers.
Fee leapt from the bed to the dresser’s oak top and paced with her. “You kissed a boy, and you liked it,” he teased.
“No! No, I did not like it! Stop saying that, Fee.”
Nay, in fact, she’d loved it. Loved every hot, dirty, silky-tongued moment of it. Loved it so much, her love almost outweighed her horror.
“Bernie baby, stop. So you kissed him. Big stinkin’ deal.”
“It was wrong. I don’t know why I did it, Fee. It just happened. I was hot and I was cranky and if I heard his name coupled with the batting of someone’s eyelashes one more time, I think I might have screamed. And I know that’s not his fault. He’s just a nice man. But everything sort of overwhelmed me. One minute I was fine. Then he was waving his handsome all over the place and I just nailed him. Out of the blue. Bam! Grabbed him like he was the last man on earth and planted one on him. Who am I, Fee?”
“You’re just a girl who likes a boy who likes you, too.”
She shook her head hard, stopping momentarily to squeeze her temples. “No. I can’t like him. I don’t have time to like anyone.”
“Bernie girl, what’s the scoop? What’s all this talk about time? Where are you rushing off to once your parole is up? I thought you didn’t have anywhere to go. What aren’t you telling Miss Fee? Hmmm?”
“Nothing,” she answered, too quickly even for her own taste. She just wasn’t ready to share everything with Fee yet. Not until she had a plan in place.
Fee sat down on the dresser’s top, his tail swishing. “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”
A chuckle burst from her mouth as she pulled at the ungodly yellow velour pants she was wearing. “If only I was that lucky. Instead, I trashed a truck.”
“Aha! That’s the real problem here. You think somehow your sucky-face with Ridge was the reason his truck rolled into the creek?”
Yes! Maybe. She didn’t know. All accidents usually led back to her. Seriously, no one could be as unlucky as she was, and at this point, coincidence had to be ruled out. As she’d been kissing Ridge, as her stomach had turned inside out and her libido had sounded a cheer worthy of a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader, she’d had that feeling again. Just like the one right before she’d set the barn on fire.
“Bernie? Please say you’re not blaming yourself for Ridge forgetting to put the emergency brake on? Girl, you heard him say he must have forgotten to use it.”
Zipping up the front of her matching velour jacket, she shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe. I don’t know. Stuff like this happens all the time when I’m around, Fee. It always…”
Fee’s ears twitched beneath his tiara. “Always what?”
She grabbed her house key and stuffed it in her pants pocket. “Forget it. I have to go or I’m going to be late for bingo.”
“Bernie, you’re always running off before we have the chance—”
But she wasn’t listening. She popped the door open and escaped before Fee could dig any deeper, flying down the wide set of stairs and almost crashing into Winnie.
“Whoa there, B! You okay?” Winnie gripped her upper arms and rubbed them.
All this concern, all this kindness, it was beginning to overwhelm her. “Fine. I’m sorry. I was rushing. I don’t want to be late for bingo. I promised Calla I’d call the numbers.”
Winnie’s dark head bounced, her body language rippling with excitement. “I know, but I have a surprise for you before you go. Now, before I show you what it is, I want you to keep an open mind, okay?”
Bernie cocked her head, but allowed Winnie to pull her out to the front porch with the order to keep her eyes closed. Heat, even at almost eight o’ clock at night, swarmed her face.
Winnie stood behind her, placing her hands on Bernie’s shoulders. “Okay, now remember—open mind. Like, so open it’s a big ol’ field.”
Bernie tensed but kept her eyes closed. She didn’t like surprises.
“Bernie, honey?”
“Yes?”
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