I swallowed. “He’s coming.”
“Does he know what you guys are planning?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, tell him I said hey.”
“Okay, Mom.” She was still looking at me funny. God, I knew I shouldn’t have applied that extra coat of mascara. “Do I look bad or something?”
“No.” Mom shook her head, a small smile on her lips. “You look great. Just make sure Becks keeps his hands to himself. I don’t care how old that hair makes you look. You’re still my baby.”
Mom was obviously not a fan of the sex hair.
“I’m not ready to be a Grandma yet,” she added. “Even if Becks is such a nice boy.”
“Love you, Mom.” I waved as I walked out the door, feeling guilty. Hopefully, she’d still think Becks was a nice boy after we broke up.
We’d decided to meet at Becks’s house and go to the party together. As I pulled into his driveway, I sat in the car a second after turning off the engine. I didn’t know how I was going to break up with Becks, if he had a plan or not. But the day was here. After this party, Becks and I wouldn’t be fake boyfriend and girlfriend. We’d just be friends again. Considering all the stress I’d been feeling, the thought should’ve made me happy, but it didn’t.
Clayton met me at the door.
“Oh my God,” he gasped, smiling, hand to his chest. His eyes were glued to my Stetson, the grin on his face stretched from ear to ear. “I think...I think I’m...having a...heart attack.”
I raised my eyebrows, and he laughed some more.
“Sally, you’ve got to stop coming ‘round here in those get-ups.” Clayton’s face was beet read as he tried to contain himself. “I’m loving that hair, though.”
Becks stepped around Clayton. He got a good look at me and sighed. “That’s because she’s gorgeous, and you’re a perv. Let’s go, Sal.”
I let him lead me to the car, hardly hearing Clayton’s protests. Had Becks really just called me gorgeous? I’d have to start doing my hair like this more often.
We didn’t talk much on the way to Mercedes’s. Becks kept looking at my outfit and shaking his head, but I was still high off that last comment. When we finally got to her street, the house was unmistakable. She’d decorated it in green and white streamers, and the line of cars looped around the block. CHS had won, of course. Even with Becks out, they’d played well, and Ash had led them to a three to one victory.
“Lucky,” Becks called it now, walking up the steps to the giant two-story. The door was gaping, so you could hear music all the way out here. “If Stryker had been paying attention, they would’ve never scored in the first place.”
“I thought you said he did good.”
“Good,” he repeated. “Not great. Now, are you and Hooker really going to do this? Again?”
I stopped, turned to face him. “We haven’t even done it for almost two years.”
“I know, but why?”
“Why not?” I countered. Stepping back, I held out my arms. “How do I look?”
Grinning, he reached up and tugged the Stetson more securely onto my head. “You look great and you know it, Sal.”
Compliment number two. This night was going a whole lot better than I’d predicted.
As we entered, Becks was greeted in the usual way. Everyone wanted to say hi and give him pats on the back. Though he’d had to sit out, everyone knew the team wouldn’t have gotten where they were without Becks—and he’d be back in for the next game.
“Oh my gosh!” Mercedes appeared, long hair waving in an unseen breeze, wearing a tight green dress that looked painted on. “I’m so glad you guys could come. Having Bally here is going to make it so much more epic.”
Having Bally call it quits, I corrected mentally.
Before I could get too down, the music cut off abruptly, and I heard a voice behind me.
“Well,” she drawled, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Slowly, I turned, delivering the line like I said it every day.
“I’m your Huckleberry.”
Hooker grimaced, eyes widening comically.
I grinned.
Her reaction was perfect. The dusty black coat, the red sash next to the gun at her hip, the mustache, her accent, everything was flawless. We were in the zone, both of us wanting to knock this last one out of the park. Mercedes had been wrong. Bally wasn’t what was going to make this party epic. Doc Holliday and Johnny Ringo were here to have a duel to the death, and they were about to steal the show.
CHAPTER 12