And her sleek, sophisticated all-white kitchen was most definitely Bethany’s element. Positive or negative, her poise never slipped, especially in her element. Bethany embodied the term “upbeat,” whether discussing a five-hundred-dollar scratch-off win or a cheating ex-boyfriend. The only one of the three women who appeared upbeat was Bethany. Graceful though she was, Rosie’s arms were crossed loosely at her middle, her shoulders in an uncharacteristic hunch. Georgie sent a glance in Rosie’s direction, noting that the other woman did, in fact, seem kind of. You both look like the bachelorette who didn’t get a rose.” “I was going to propose we make it a tradition to open every Just Us League meeting with a shot of Patrón, but I didn’t realize it would be so necessary. She went to the freezer and took out a chilled bottle of tequila and three frosty little shot glasses, setting them down on the polished granite with a flourish. “Right,” Bethany drawled, pushing away from the kitchen island. And we don’t talk about the Great Drenching of 2017.” “Did the party mother give out Super Soakers and pin a target to your back again?”
“You look pretty depressed for someone dressed like a clown,” Bethany remarked from her lean against the kitchen island. Too bad she hadn’t unmasked Dale before he’d made her feel the size of a thimble. One who schedules her own fireplace work, dammit. On second thought, maybe she’d revealed the secret so he would be forced to treat her like an adult. Had she actually done that? Knowing Travis would prefer not to see his best friend’s little sister as a sexual object, she’d thrown it in his face, banking on the awkwardness sending him running. Good thing she’d revealed Dale’s true identity and given herself an excuse to avoid Travis until the day she died. She’d been an idiot to think he could see her as a friend. She wasn’t sure she’d ever felt as helpless as Travis made her feel-and that was saying something.
Teeth grinding, Georgie hopped up onto a stool beside Rosie. This was just a little act of rebellion, but she’s over it now. Right on the heels of Travis invading her fireplace appointment and needling her sorest sore spot, even the laughter of children hadn’t soothed her troubled soul. The parents didn’t mean any harm-they were lovely people. While they all stood off to one side sipping sangria and swapping handyman recommendations, she was relegated to eating half-slices of pizza at the kids’ table. Georgie totally understood her being hired to entertain the kids, but lately she’d become so much more aware of the division between herself and the other adults. At one point, the hostess had patted her on the head and handed her punch in a Dixie cup. Toward the middle of the festivities, however, she’d started to feel like one of the kids.
Wild squealing mayhem, sure, but that was par for the course.
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