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Should I go nude?
Or maybe a little more tan?
Deciding which way you looked best would be difficult for anyone, but it was especially difficult when your hair was wrapped in a towel. It automatically lowered your self-confidence—and made you wonder if you shared the genetics of a troll.
Having eye cream slathered so thick I could see it under my eyes didn’t help either. Oh well. I guess I’d go nude. It made a statement.
With a heavy sigh, I snatched the nail polish off the shelf and dropped it into my basket.
It would scare most people to go to the grocery store looking like I did. But that was the beauty of living in Oregon. When you went to the store, you saw people in all states of dress—or undress. Some people wore their pajamas. About eighty percent of the population appeared in yoga pants. And every once in a while, you could spot a person wearing hardly anything. But the only time I went nude was when I painted my nails that color.
Snatching some cotton balls, I tossed those into my basket before I stopped by the baby section to grab baby wipes. They made the best makeup removers.
I had to hurry because I only had two hours before I went live and only three hours before my sister got home from her friend’s. It was the first week of summer break, and I was already frantically trying to think of fun summer activities for Wren and me.
Luckily, tonight was cookie night.
I turned down the baking aisle of the convenience store. Convenience was right. It was practically right next door to my house. And this convenience store had the decency to stock regular food items. Tonight was chocolate-chip-cookie night, and if Wren came home to find that we were out of chocolate chips, I would be in big trouble.
I paused in front of a mirror that was part of the sunglasses display. The avocado smeared beneath my makeup-less eyes usually helped remove the puffiness, but I wasn’t sure it would work today. It needed to. I had to take photos tonight.
Setting the basket on the front counter, the woman standing there helped me empty it. After laying the chocolate chips and nude nail polish on the counter, I pulled my card out of my phone case and swiped it.
“Big night planned?” Marni, the woman who managed the convenience store, asked.
“We’re making cookies tonight if you want to stop by.”
Marni tugged at the large hoops in her ears. “Well, Dean and I have tickets to the mud show tonight, but thanks for the offer.”
I nodded and tucked my card back into my phone case. Marni and I lived only a street apart.
The first time I’d met her, she told me that her boyfriend, Dean, was going to propose any day now. That was three years ago, and he was still coming up with excuses. “You taking pictures tonight?” she asked.
“Yes, Wren is hanging out with friends today, so I figured I’d get some evening shots with Tony.”
“He’s getting better. That YouTube video he watched really helped.”
“I agree.” Tony was another near neighbor who was dabbling in photography. He was decent enough and wanted to add to his portfolio, so he helped me in trade for chocolate chip cookies and girlfriend advice.
Although his pictures weren’t bad, I doubted he’d ever make it as a true professional. He’d do fine snapping pictures of T-ball practice and backyard weddings, but he wouldn’t be featured in any magazines—not in this lifetime.
Marni passed me the paper sack. “You want me to get you a ticket to mudding next week? Dean’s got a friend that works for the owner’s son.”
Sounded like she had those tickets locked in tight. “Thanks, Marni. If it’s no trouble, I know Wren would love that.”
Unfortunately, Wren was now at the age where she liked boys. I couldn’t convince her they still had germs and she needed her cootie shot every time she accidentally touched one.
Right now, she had a crush on Mason Higgins—someone in the making of a true redneck. Nice enough kid, just not too bright. He liked mudding, though, so now Wren liked mudding, even though she hadn’t ever been, which was why I wanted to remedy that. I hoped she would go to a mudding event and decide that it wasn’t for her, and then she’d decide that Mason wasn’t for her either.
“What’s with the green stuff?” Marni pointed to the goop on my face.
“I’m doing a live makeup tutorial while the cookies are baking. This takes away the puffiness from my eyes.”
Marni shrugged. “Just remember to take the towel off your head too.”
Patting my makeshift turban, I smiled. “I didn’t want my hair to dry on the walk over here. I need to do a blowout.”
“You know I have that friend who would give you a discount at the hair salon if you tell her my name. She works wonders with my hair.” She gestured to her thick, heavy-handed bangs that somehow fit Marni well but would look horrendous on anyone else.
“Thanks for that.”
I gathered up my belongings and turned to walk out the door. Only, my mind must have been on other things, because I bumped into someone—with my face. Where was the rest of my body when I needed it? That would teach me to slouch.
“Oh, excuse me!” I apologized. I fumbled with the bag but managed to hold onto it. Raising my head, I stared at a chest. My face had left a little avocado imprint on the man’s white T-shirt. Not wanting to make things more awkward, I hurried around the man, ready to dash for the door.
“Riley!” a familiar voice called to me. I stopped. The voice was deeper than I remembered. More gravelly. But I’d know it anywhere. Slowly turning around, goosebumps on my arms, I stared at the man I’d smashed my face against.
A blast from the past stood in front of me, a water bottle in his hand. Brown, tussled hair. Bright-green eyes that saw too much.
He’d always seen. He always knew.
I let out a squeak and ran out the door. My flip-flops slapped against the bottom of my feet as I tried to keep my armful of groceries from falling. The cars zooming down the road next to me had me glancing frantically over my shoulder as if he were driving one of them.
When I made it to the gated entrance to my neighborhood, I slowed my sprint to a light jog.
I was home.
I was safe.
My secret was safe.
The past would have to stay in the past. There was nothing else I could do about it. No matter how much I wanted to wrap my arms around the past and hug him—er, it—I couldn’t, because the past was over.
I could only look to the future—mine and Wren’s.
The good-looking man who had grown into his large ears and broad shoulders didn’t have a place in the Wren-and-Riley future.
Our trailer wasn’t big enough.
I hurried past Tony, who was busy washing his Mustang in front of his green single-wide. I nodded to Eldon, who stood in front of his outdoor shed, a screwdriver in each hand.
My heart still raced as I popped the handle on my trailer and opened the door. Home sweet home. That’s right. I lived in a trailer park.
And it wasn’t just any trailer park. It was the one and only, coveted, desirable, Burnside Waterfront Trailer Park.
In other words, it was a trailer park like any other trailer park across America.
Single-wides, Airstreams, travel trailers, RVs. We had it all. We even laid claim to the fact that we had two double-wides in our park.
I set my bag of groceries down inside before I climbed the narrow, steep steps inside. I turned around and scanned the street—no sign of him. He wouldn’t follow me here. There was nothing to worry about.
I slammed the door then emptied my groceries onto the tiny counter space.
After I laid all the delicious ingredients for chocolate chip cookies out, I glanced down and realized my big toe was bleeding.
Darn it. I wanted to do a nail tutorial soon. I couldn’t do that if I had hamburger toes.
Opening the pantry—really it was a cupboard with two shelves—I pulled the first aid kit from the back. There weren’t any Band-Aids to be found, only a thick square piece of gauze and some tape.
My toe was still dripping blood, but it definitely wasn’t gauze-worthy. I’d just have to wash it off in the shower. I pulled the towel from my head and used it to clean off the avocado mask.
The trailer rocked as someone climbed the steps. I waited for Wren to open the door, but instead of the door opening, there was a knock. Probably Elise and Sam from next door. Both were retired and considered the news bearers of the trailer park. Good news, bad news. They liked to share it all. They popped over to chat all the time.
I set down the first aid kit and limped to the door. Why did toe injuries cause your entire leg to freeze up?
I would never know.
When I opened the door, my toe was the least of my worries.
Nate Mercier stood there. Grown-up, handsome as sin, and scowling angrily.