She tilted her head down in annoyance. “Paulo isn’t buying what you’re selling and I’ve seen your body before. So just show me the dress already.”
To her credit, the shop owner was blushing and trying to hide her face in the magazine she was reading at the counter. But there was no point in fighting Cammie, so I let my shorts fall to the ground and then reached for the dress.
“Let the record show that Brooklyn Heart actually wears some killer panties,” Cammie said, as she and Paulo applauded. I curtsied and then spun in a circle, because if you can’t beat them, join them.
“Zip me up,” I said as the soft dress material cascaded over my skin. It fell to the floor around my feet, but I knew it’d fit better once I slipped the heels on. Cammie pulled the zipper up the side, where it lay hidden beneath my arm, and then she stepped back and I turned to the mirror.
Damn. Not bad at all. I was used to wearing tailored gowns created by famous designers, but apparently Hawte Country Couture could design a decent dress.
“It’s so gorgeous on you,” Cammie said.
“Agreed, but you can’t wear a bra with that back,” Paulo said.
Cammie laughed. “Are you going to let Logan cop a feel while you guys slow dance?”
I groaned. “I don’t think kids slow dance anymore. I think it’s all dry humping and heavy petting. Which is why I will be stationed by the punch bowl with the parent chaperones.” That was the plan at least.
“Whatever, party-pooper. Let’s pay for this dress so we can go home and figure out how to style your hair.”
Paulo perked up and smiled wide. “Will you let me do it?”
I coughed and tried to resist the urge to say, “hell no.”
“I used to style hair when I lived in New York,” he explained.
Cammie and I both turned to him with shocked gapes. “Are you serious?”
He nodded. “That’s where I lived with my partner, but when I moved out here, he stayed behind to run the salon.”
“Aw, I’m sorry Paulo.”
He grunted. “Don’t be. I plan on moving back to New York once the bed-and-breakfast and the shop are up and running.”
It shouldn’t have, but the idea of Paulo leaving Big Timber for good made me sad. Maybe it was the idea that everyone would eventually be moving on from Big Timber. Cammie and I would be going back to LA, Paulo would head to New York, and Jason would go wherever it was he planned on going next. I wouldn’t know because we didn’t talk about the future. I wasn’t even sure when he was heading to LA for the award show. He’d be there for the event, but for all I knew he was leaving again as soon as it was over.
So our future was set. We’d have our time together at his ranch and then when I left, our little fling would be over.
We’d be over.
Chapter Twenty-One
I learned three things while getting ready for the senior prom:
1. A twenty-seven year old woman should never say the above statement.
2. Paulo could work a curling iron.
3. Cammie couldn’t keep a sex secret to save her life.
“So do you think Jason and Logan will have a fight over you during the senior prom?” she asked, while Paulo finished my make-up, because yes, he could also do make-up. I’d found a big, burly, tattooed fairy Godmother.
Before that moment, Paulo hadn’t realized there was anything going on between Jason and I outside of our music, but now he definitely did. Thanks to Cammie.
“Like maybe Logan will pull you out onto the floor for a slow dance and Jason will be overcome with jealousy. They’ll fight over you and everyone at prom will stop to watch. Then they’ll tell Jason that he’s retroactively expelled and can’t graduate until he repeats senior year as a twenty-eight year old.”
Paulo gasped in feigned horror.
“Are you guys almost done writing cheesy 90s sitcom scenarios?” I asked, glaring at Cammie over my shoulder in the mirror.
She reached forward and gripped my shoulder. “Brookie, no matter what you do— Use a condom. You don’t want to become a teen mother.”
Her and Paulo completely lost it after that and I was left finishing up my own damn make-up after I’d kicked them out of my room. I looked at myself in the mirror and tried to get Cammie out of my head. (I also thought that I shouldn’t have been so hasty to kick Paulo out. Only one of my eyes was finished and I couldn’t do my own make-up for shit.)
With a sigh, I went to work, reminding myself that the night was about the two high schoolers that Jason and I were escorting: Logan, and another senior named Jessie.
When the school had heard about Jason’s offer to accompany a girl to the senior prom, they’d held a creative writing contest. Quite a few senior girls had written in and Jason had picked Jessie’s story out of all of them. He hadn’t let me read it, but I had a feeling he’d made a good choice. So it was all set. A limo would arrive in thirty minutes and then we’d go pick up Logan and Jessie to head to the dance.