Chapter 20
I open my front door before Millie turns off her car.
“Welcome to my humble abode!” I open my arms wide and yell from the porch. “Who’s ready to paint the town pink?”
And by town, I mean the chicken coop. Obviously.
“I am!” Millie hops out of her car and pulls open the back door to reveal tote bags full of craft supplies. “This is going to be the best day ever!”
Ciara doesn’t share in our enthusiasm.
“You two are out of your minds,” she says. “How did I let you talk me into this?”
It wasn’t hard.
“If you want, I’d be happy to bring you back over to your parents’ house.” Millie slings a tote bag over each shoulder. “Otherwise, I suggest you turn that frown upside down and get excited to work on the chicken hammock I have planned for you.”
“Fuck.” Ciara groans. “I’m sorry I’ve been acting like a bitch. I’m still adjusting to being back at home and I’m irritated about some things over at Starlight, but I’ll get my act together.”
“Don’t worry about it. We all have those days.
” I meet them on the driveway and grab a bag from Millie.
“If it makes you feel better, there are two curated stacks of romance novels with your names on them in my library, a cooler filled to the brim with premade cocktails in the backyard, and if you’re hungry, I might have gone a little overboard with the spread I put together.
There’s a salad, sandwiches, an antipasto and fruit tray, and more goodies and sweet treats than your heart could desire. ”
Ciara pops up from grabbing the bags that migrated to the passenger side floor and looks at us over the roof of Millie’s car. “Did someone just say sweet treats?” she asks, and a smile pulls at the corners of her mouth for the first time since she arrived.
Sheesh.
These Jacobs siblings are so touchy.
“I did,” I tell her. “And they’re really good ones too.”
Not to brag or anything, but my baking skills are top-notch.
“Did you make those raspberry lemon cookies you brought to knitting circle last time?” Millie asks. “I swear, I dreamt about them for a week.”
I nod my head and Millie squeals. “I tried out a new recipe too. Four words for you.” I draw it out, looking between my two sugar-addicted friends: “Peach. Cobbler. Cheesecake. Bars.”
There was a box of peaches on sale when I went grocery shopping, and it was such a good deal, I couldn’t resist. I just had no idea how many peaches came in a box. I feel like I’ve been eating them for days, and I still have half the box left.
“That’s it. What are you both waiting for?” Ciara’s chipper, singsong voice is a far cry from the grumpy goddess of two minutes ago as she rushes past me with a bag in each hand. “We have a coop to paint and goodies to eat. Move it, ladies!”
“It actually makes total sense that dessert would be the key to unlocking Ciara’s motivation,” Millie says to me as we trail behind Ciara.
A little treat is effective in every situation, but even though my skills in the kitchen are wonderful, that doesn’t just apply to me. “It does?”
“Of course,” Millie says, and it’s only then that I catch the mischievous glint shining in her blue eyes. “Just add her to the list of Jacobs siblings obsessed with tasting your goodies.”
I gasp and somehow manage to choke on the humid air. I knew whatever she said was going to be out of pocket, but I could’ve never predicted that.
Ciara drops the bags she was holding and skids to a halt. Her long braids go flying as she spins around to face Millie.
“Number one,” she says, pointing an angry finger between the two of us. “How dare you?”
“Hey! This is all Millie.” I hold my free hand up in surrender. “All I did was try to make you something delicious to eat. I’m innocent here.”
Millie shoots me her dirtiest look, but the joke’s on her because between her pink and purple hair and the Powerpuff Girls shirt she’s wearing today, she still just looks adorable.
“You’re right, Luna. You didn’t deserve that,” Ciara says. “This is Millie’s fight, and I’m sorry I pointed a loaded finger gun at you.”
“Apology accepted.” I step away from Millie and stand by Ciara’s side.
“Traitor,” Millie hisses beneath her breath.
I don’t even attempt to argue with her. Add this to the list of reasons why I could never go to war. I’m not taking a bullet—literally or metaphorically—for anybody. Not even someone who is providing me with free labor and discounted craft goods.
“Now that that’s sorted, where was I? Oh yes.” Ciara holds up two fingers. “Number two, no jokes that even allude to Luna’s goodies. Gross.”
“Hey!” How did I just catch another stray?
“Oh yeah. Sorry, Luna,” Ciara says, before adding on a very half-hearted “no offense.”
“A little late for that, don’t you think?” I ask, ignoring the way Millie sticks her tongue at me when Ciara isn’t looking. “Why don’t you go ahead and holster those puppies. Your aim is a little too wild for my liking.”
“That’s fair.” Ciara tucks her left hand in her pocket and turns to me. “Permission from the court to use one hand for this last point?”
I nod. “You may proceed.”
“Number three!” Ciara shouts, holding up three fingers for all to see, and if nothing else, I appreciate her commitment to the bit.
“As a designated representative of all Ciaras around the world and on behalf of the Ciara Princess Harris Wilson, it must be known that Ciaras don’t want the goodies, we are the goodies. ”
An important distinction and an impassioned speech.
Impressive.
“Great,” Millie says, clearly not as amused with the situation as I am. “Are we finished now?”
Ciara pretends to think about it for a second.
“We are,” she says, scooping up the bags she dropped on the ground. “Thank you for still being my friend and letting me go off the rails every now and again.”
“Of course.” Millie opens my screen door and we follow her inside. “Plus, now that I was so forgiving, you won’t be able to—” Millie’s sentence comes to a stop as suddenly as her steps.
“What happened?” I ask, narrowly avoiding slamming into her back. “Are you okay?”
She doesn’t answer.
“Luna.” She says my name instead. “Why are there chickens in your living room?”
Oh.
“So about that…” I drop the tote bag filled with craft supplies next to my door and move beside the plastic bin filled with chicks. “Ciara, Millie, meet my ladies! And maybe let’s start with finishing the chicken coop.”
—
Pink paint is splattered across my face and my hands, and sweat is falling down my neck. I’m going to need three Advils and the longest shower ever to alleviate the pain in my shoulders, and still, I’ve never been happier.
Fluffy white clouds dance in the bright blue sky above us.
I managed to have the perfect amount to drink so I don’t feel drunk, but I’m not quite sober, and my stomach hurts from laughing.
The cows over at Starlight Ridge have ventured closer to my property, their gentle mooing and curious stares critique our work as we put the final coat of paint on the chicken coop.
When I bought this house, these were the days I dreamt about, and nothing could make it any better.
Except for maybe one certain person.
“So, that was fun and all.” Millie grabs a drink out of the cooler and joins Ciara and me on the blanket I laid in the shade. “But now that our work is finished, is it finally time to gossip?”
“Oh.” Ciara perks up. “I’m always up for that. I don’t feel like I was in Austin for that long, but so much changed while I was gone and I can’t keep up.”
“I thought you didn’t like to participate in the rumor mill,” I say, even though I, too, would love some gossip.
Ciara snorts beside me. “She told you that? They used to call her Rumor Millie because she always knew everything about everyone.”
“I’ve grown. I’m trying to be better.” Millie’s cheeks are bright red, but they’ve been that way for hours…despite me offering her sunscreen twice. “But this doesn’t count, because I want to gossip about Luna and Tate.”
“Well, that’s not exciting.” Ciara picks up one of the books I loaned her and takes a closer look at the cover. “I’m pretty sure that after the way they were watching each other at the game, the entire town figured out that something is going on between them.”
“We were not watching each other!” I say a little too loud for it to sound believable. “I mean, sure, I saw him, but he’s the coach and we were at a football game. It would have been impossible not to.”
Plus, his butt looked really cute in his slacks, and at the end of the day, I’m just a girl.
“Girl. You do know we have eyes, right? The only time you weren’t looking for him on the sideline was when he was in the locker room,” Millie says, like she’s a detective laying out her case.
“Then you stayed when the rest of us headed out. And no offense, but I have a hard time believing you like high school football that much.”
The only problem with living in a small town is that there’s nowhere to hide. Everyone sees everything no matter where you are.
Including my house.
But I try anyways.
I get off the blanket and grab the hammer and disco ball sitting close by and retreat to the chicken coop, or, as Ciara has affectionately dubbed it, the Pink Chicken Club.
“It was my first Texas football game. I wanted to stay,” I say once the gate has closed behind me. “Plus, somebody had to stick around. The other team looked so sad when everyone started to leave early.”
“The other team looked sad because they were losing by, like, a hundred. Not because the strangers on the opposing team’s bleachers were leaving,” Millie says. “But nice try though.”
“And none of that changes the fact that we all saw Tate turning around after damn near every single play to make sure you hadn’t left,” Ciara says. “I’ve known that man my entire life and I’ve never seen him so obvious. He was smoother in middle school.”