by Score, Lucy
Sammy felt a little stunned.
“It’s a good news-bad news kind of thing,” Eden told her.
“Good News: You’re hot AF, dummy,” Layla said fondly.
“Bad News: You’re the one who needs to make the effort,” Eden said. “Until you start taking care of yourself and remembering what a brilliant, beautiful badass you are—”
“Awesome alliteration,” Bobby cut in.
“Thank you, Bobby,” Eden said with a quick grin. “Until you start taking care of yourself, no one else is going to excavate under the layers of exhaustion and pathological helpfulness and self-neglect to find your sexy center.”
The women at the tables around them broke out into spontaneous applause. Eden and Layla leaned back in their chairs, wisdom dispensed.
“Raise your vibe, honey, and watch the world fall at your feet,” Bobby told her.
Sure. She’d just schedule in longer showers and some online shopping sprees in between calving seasons and vaccinations and renovations to the farm. Maybe take up paragliding or pottery. Didn’t they understand? There was no time left over in the day for herself.
But she was too damn tired to say just that.
The shop door opened on a burst of cold. With it came one stubbled, scowling Ryan Sosa. He was wearing glasses today. They made him look like a rugged, crabby poet.
Sammy felt her vagina flutter in appreciation. He was still here! Still gorgeous! Still grumpy! And he was looking right at her.
“Yeah, that’s the look of a man who finds you repulsive,” Eden whispered, picking up a menu and fanning herself with it.
“Shut. Up,” Sammy hissed. God. She was a mess. She wished she would have actually washed her hair instead of just cramming a hat on her head that morning.
“Here he comes,” Layla sang under her breath.
“I can see that,” Sammy growled.
“Sparkle,” Ryan said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
Eden kicked her under the table. “Ouch! Uh, hi. Ryan,” she said. “These are my sometimes friends, Eden and Layla.”
“Ah. Those friends. Did you ever get confirmation on Dirk?” he asked Eden.
Eden choked on her soda. Layla snorted. “Maybe this guy’s not such a dumbass after all?”
“Maybe I’m not,” he agreed.
“You’re still here?” Sammy asked a little too loudly. “I thought you’d be long gone by now.”
“I thought so too,” he said, oblivious to the fact that Bobby was making a heart symbol with her fingers behind the counter. “I may have underestimated the complexity of my uncle’s filing system.”
“Well, I need to get back to the inn,” Eden said, pointedly looking at her bare wrist.
“And I just got a call from dispatch,” Layla lied.
“No, no, no. Nope. Not this time,” Sammy said, standing abruptly. “This time, I’m leaving.” She dragged on her coat, which today smelled like a chicken farm. “Thanks for the lunch and the lecture.”
Turning to Ryan, she looked him up and down one more time. God, he was so stupidly gorgeous. “Good luck with whatever it is you’re doing,” she said to him. “And goodbye again.”
She marched out the door, head held high.
Blue Moon Emergency Text Alert: All citizens with any level of accounting experience are encouraged to attend tonight’s emergency town meeting at Take Two Movie Theater. Please do not call Beckett Pierce’s house or office to ask for details prior to the meeting.
20
So maybe she’d overreacted the smallest, teensiest bit, Sammy thought in the concession stand line. Take Two was the town’s Art Deco movie theater that showed second-run movies. It was also commandeered as a venue for town meetings like the one tonight, which were arguably just as entertaining as the films.
The smell of fresh popcorn and gallons of organic butter tantalized her nose. Her stomach let out a plaintive groan. She’d left half her salad on the table at Peace of Pizza when she’d stormed out into the cold.
But that was the effect of a spiritual kick to the head. She wasn’t thinking about normal, everyday things like lunch. She was suddenly staring down at the big picture of her life, seeing it from a different angle.
The emergency alert text message—which, since its inception, had only been used for non-emergency situations—about the “essential” and “urgent” town meeting had been received on her way home after spending over an hour getting a donkey to hold still so she could stitch up a wound on his leg.
With Layla, Eden, and Bobby’s words echoing in her head, Sammy had taken an extra long shower and dusted off her rarely used hair dryer. She’d forgotten how decent she looked with a little product and five minutes of diffused drying. Her sleeker, shinier hair—as well as the mascara and lip gloss she’d found at the back of her vanity—had actually managed to put a little bounce in her step.
She got her popcorn and a water refill in the bottle she brought from home and stepped into the theater.
As expected, it was a madhouse. Half the town had come out of hibernation for the popcorn, Milk Duds, and mysterious crisis.
“Sammy!”
She turned and found the blonde, chic Summer Pierce waving from the middle of a row. Carter was next to her, looking mountain man chic in a flannel coat, ancient jeans, and a thermal shirt. His dark, full beard made him look more bad boy than good guy. Even after all these years, Sammy still felt the faint echo of her teenage crush on the man whenever he looked directly at her.
She slipped into their row. “Hey! Where are the kids?” she asked.
“Phoebe and Franklin have them for a sleepover in the bunk room,” Summer said.
The house Phoebe and Franklin built on Pierce Acres had a bunk room built to house a dozen grandkids and the way those Pierce brothers were going, Grandma and Grandpa were going to need to build an addition.
“It’s costing us a big, fat gift card to the Hershey Spa in Pennsylvania,” Carter said, with a wink at his wife.
“Totally worth it,” Summer said, slipping her arms around his waist. Sammy couldn’t help but smile. The two of them radiated love and healing. Summer was a cancer survivor, and Carter had come home from Afghanistan wounded. Together, they’d built something beautiful together.
Summer turned to greet her sister-in-law Gia Pierce, who had just arrived with Evan, Aurora, baby Lydia, and pregnant Eva in tow.
“Your girl, Magnolia, is doing well,” Carter told Sammy. “She’s starting to get her confidence back around the other horses.”
Sammy’s heart glowed a little bit thinking about the sweet mare soaking up Carter’s attention. The man was one of the most restful people she knew. He had a soulful connection to the earth he cultivated. Animals—and people—gravitated to his calm. He reminded her so much of his father. “I can’t thank you enough for working with her,” she said.
“It’s a pleasure. Really,” he insisted.
“Your dad would be proud of you,” she blurted out the words.
He cleared his throat gruffly. “Thanks, Sammy. I think he’d be pretty tickled to see you on the farm, too. He always said you had a better way with horses and people than your mom.”
Sammy managed a laugh around the lump in her throat. Even all these years later, it was still hard to accept the fact that a good, kind man was gone forever. “I won’t tell her if you don’t,” she promised.
Carter winked. “Deal.”
Ellery clomped onto the stage in her Frankenstein boots. “Five minutes to show time,” she announced into the microphone on the lectern.
Sammy took a seat and grabbed a handful of popcorn as she scoped out the attendees. She was happy she’d come. Sure, she could have used the time to finish another few wreaths, but seeing so many of her neighbors showing up for each other warmed her.
Taneisha Duval, the enviable beauty and women’s record holder for the Blue Moon 5-Miler, was deep in conversation with Destiny Wheedlemeyer, a six-figure Etsy entrepreneur with
a knitting store. A few rows from them, Kimoni Henderson and Kathy Wu had their heads together over what looked like a jar of moonshine.
Young, old. Black, white. Vegan, Paleo. Jewish, agnostic. Blue Moon managed to come together time and again in a brash, weird, wonderful celebration of similarities and differences.
She loved this damn town and everyone in it. Sometimes it snuck up on her and stole her breath.
“Is this seat taken?”
Sammy jumped, bobbling her popcorn. Ryan caught it and helped himself to a handful before returning the bag to her.
He was in his farm store jeans and a thermal shirt. Stubble darkened his jawline and his hair was carelessly tousled. The tiny echo of a girlhood crush on Carter Pierce was eclipsed by a rush of white, hot adult lust.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He took the empty seat next to her and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “I was making a run for office supplies and saw the crowd and the marquis. I’ve never been to a town meeting before and figured it might be entertaining.”
“That sounds very unlike you,” she pointed out, enjoying the nearness of him. He smelled like expensive shampoo, crisp winter air, and Sharpie marker.
He snagged the bag from her and helped himself to more popcorn. “You could say that about everything in the last forty-eight hours.”
“I take it you don’t have good news on Carson’s situation since you’re still here and not watching Pitch Perfect 2 somewhere over the Dakotas right now?”
“Things are unfolding,” he said cryptically, his knee nudging hers in the confined space. “What about you? You left the pizza place like your ass was on fire.”
“My ass was fine. I just had things to do,” she said.
“What did you do to your hair?” he asked, eyeing it.
On reflex, she patted the fluffy curls. “Uh. Washed it,” she said.
“Looks nice,” he said. He leaned in a little closer. “Smells nice too.”
Her toes curled under in her boots, and her internal temperature rose five degrees at the compliment.
“Mind if I sit?” Mason Smith, Ellery’s husband and town accountant, appeared next to Ryan.
“Help yourself,” Ryan said. “Want some popcorn?”
“Trade you popcorn for whiskey,” Mason offered, holding up a flask wrapped in black leather emblazoned with a skull.
“Deal,” Ryan agreed.
Mason dug out a short stack of Dixie cups from his coat pocket and had just started to pour when the Darth Vader theme blasted from the theater’s speakers.
Sammy smothered a laugh. Bruce Oakleigh felt that Mayor Beckett Pierce’s entrance to town meetings needed to be more dignified. The soundtrack was constantly changing and always entertaining.
She stole a glance at Ryan. He looked more intrigued than perturbed and she wondered if he was getting over his disdain for small-town life.
“Cheers,” Mason said, distributing cups to Sammy and Ryan.
“Cheers,” they echoed.
As Sammy sipped a truly delicious peanut butter whiskey, Mayor Beckett Pierce, in a suit and a God-awful powdered wig, took the stage. He was followed by Rainbow Berkowicz, Bruce Oakleigh, Elvira Eustace, and Taneisha’s mom, Julissa. All wearing similar wigs.
Ryan leaned into her space, and Sammy swooned a little on the inside. “What’s with the wigs?” he asked, his breath tickling her ear.
“Trust me, you don’t have the time for the full story.”
He didn’t pull all the way back, she noticed. In fact, he rested his arm on the back of her seat.
“I’m going to keep this short,” Beckett said into the microphone. “I know everyone is busy with the holidays and the Solstice preparations. But it’s been brought to my attention that a state auditor will be arriving on Christmas Eve to investigate Blue Moon.”
A murmur went up in the crowd.
“What the hell does that mean?” Sammy asked.
“Oh, just wait,” Ryan said in her ear. His nose brushed her ear lobe, and she almost dropped the popcorn on the floor.
She knocked back the remaining contents of her Dixie cup and sternly reminded herself that she was not going to climb into Grumpy Ryan’s lap during a town meeting.
“Due to unforeseen circumstances,” Beckett said, “our reporting to the state was… disrupted.”
She wasn’t sure if she imagined it or if Beckett really was glaring at Bruce.
Mason poured another round. “We’re all going to need this,” he whispered.
Flask Mason was pretty fun, she thought.
“The state is missing the records of how Blue Moon used its funding from June through December this year, and a thorough investigation will commence immediately. I take full responsibility for the situation, but I need your help in mitigating the damage.”
“Why is Bruce sweating like a hairy guy in a sauna?” Sammy asked.
“Because it’s his fault,” Ryan told her.
“No!” Bruce exploded out of his seat, his wig slipping over an eye and an ear. “I can’t let you take responsibility for my unforgivable error, Mr. Mayor.”
“How do you know what’s happening?” she asked Ryan with suspicion.
He shrugged and helped himself to more popcorn in her lap. “It’s a small town. Everyone knows everything.”
Bruce elbowed Beckett out of the way and took control of the microphone.
Amethyst buried her face in her hands in the front row, and Sammy wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or something worse.
“People of Blue Moon, I have a confession to make. I, Town Supervisor Bruce Oakleigh, head of the Beautification Committee, strayed from my committed relationship.”
The indrawn gasps of so many Blue Mooners created a breeze in the theater.
“Yes. It’s true. I was swayed by a newer, shinier temptation.”
“There is no way he’s talking about a woman,” Sammy said.
“Five bucks says he took his car to a different car wash and can’t live with the guilt,” Carter guessed.
“You’re both wrong,” Ryan informed them.
Bruce moved on, wig still crooked, expression still penitent. “You see, after years of being loyal cable customers, I made the decision to try… a streaming service.” He paused as if waiting for more gasps from the crowd.
“It takes him a while to get to his point. You might want to recap it for us,” Sammy suggested to Ryan.
“He tasked Amethyst with keeping the records and filing the paperwork for the state,” he began.
“Then he bought her a Hulu subscription for her birthday,” Gia added from the row in front of them. “Nice to see you again, Ryan.”
“Hey, Gia,” he said.
“How do you guys know each other?” Sammy asked, wondering if she’d stumbled into some kind of alternate reality.
“We’re old friends,” Gia whispered.
“So Amethyst went on some massive TV show binge-watch,” Ryan said, picking up the thread again.
“Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” Mason supplied. “Cheers.”
“Cheers. Team Spike,” Sammy whispered, downing the contents of her Dixie cup.
“Hard agree,” Gia said.
“Mama, who’s Spike?” Aurora asked in a loud whisper.
“I’ll tell you when you’re a teenager,” Gia promised.
“Aww, man.” The little girl’s lower lip poked out in a pout.
Beckett returned to the podium and said something in Bruce’s ear.
“I’m being told by our valiant mayor that I should get to my point,” Bruce announced. “The state didn’t receive our reporting because we never completed it. There is no reporting to send. So the state is sending an auditor. It’s very likely that our funding will be revoked, our homes will be foreclosed upon, our property taxes will skyrocket, our children will grow up toothless with no education, and we’ll be forced to sell our wigs on eBay.”
On a dramatic wail, Bruce b
uried his face in his hands.
“He seems really attached to those wigs,” Ryan observed.
The theater was deathly silent for five whole seconds before the rumblings started.
“I’ve got a spare kidney we could sell,” someone offered.
“What about a bake sale?” Charisma Carpenter shouted.
“What if we kidnap the auditor—”
“No! There will be no kidnapping or abducting or organ harvesting,” Beckett said into the microphone.
He handed Bruce over to a very annoyed-looking Rainbow Berkowicz, who patted the sobbing man on the head and looked at her watch.
Fitz, in a cropped wooly sweater that showed an unfortunate amount of belly hair, jumped up from his seat. “Does this mean the apocalypse is back on?”
“That guy has a bunker,” Ryan whispered to Sammy.
“He also terrorizes bachelorette parties as an exotic dancer. How do you know all this?” she asked.
He shrugged and helped himself to more of her popcorn. “I get around.”
“No,” Beckett announced into the microphone. “The apocalypse is not back on.”
“What apocalypse?” Ryan asked.
“We had a teeny tiny issue with Uranus in October,” she told him.
He frowned. “Whose anus?”
“I wore Gene Simmons Kiss makeup to my wedding,” Mason interjected.
“Joey got bangs. Eva got pregnant. Half the town ended up incarcerated in the high school gym,” Sammy said. “It was a whole thing.”
Ryan leaned in closer this time. His knee pressing firmly against hers, lips just a millimeter from the tender skin of her ear lobe. She went from mildly concerned about current events to frantically concerned with the thrumming pulse that had started between her thighs. “You’re fucking with me aren’t you?” he whispered against her ear.
“You wish,” she shot back.
21
Ryan couldn’t decide if she was joking or not. Then decided it didn’t matter because in Blue Moon, anything was possible. But he liked the way the topic made her eyes light up, her lips curve.
