Last Chance Beauty Queen (Last Chance #3)(34)
Author: Hope Ramsay

“What’s to think about?”

“Well, I had set my heart on building an independent business. I would love to do business with Warren Fabrics, of course. And your offer is very generous, but I need to think it over.”

Cissy was, no doubt, used to getting her way, and the look she gave Hugh underscored that point. She was spoilt rotten. “That took balls,” she said.

“What? My wanting to do things on my own, or my wanting to think things over?”

“You have no money. You need me. You’re dreaming if you think you can do this on your own.”

“You are probably right about that. My grandfather always said I spent too much time with my head in the clouds. But that’s who I am, Cissy.” He opened the car door before she could vent any more anger at him.

“You’ll be sorry about this.”

Hugh ignored the venom in her words. “Thank you, Cissy. You’re quite generous, and I haven’t said no. I just want to think about it,” he said as mildly as he could.

“I don’t make offers like this twice.”

“Well, then, I guess I’m rather out of luck then.”

Cissy’s lip curled. It wasn’t a very attractive look on her. “Have it your way.” She turned the key and revved the Corvette’s motor. She yanked the gear lever, ground the clutch, and spun the tires as she backed out of the drive. It was a shame the way Cissy treated that beautiful piece of machinery.

“Well, don’t ya’ll look good enough to eat?” Aunt Arlene said as Caroline and Rachel reached the top row of the grandstand.

Arlene pulled off her oversized sunglasses and peered at them out of a pair of sherry-colored eyes that had been decorated with false eyelashes and green eye shadow.

Rachel looked much better after the intervention at the Cut ’n Curl. She wore a pair of daisy dukes that showed off her long-stemmed legs, a little red bandanna halter-top, and a brand-new, sassy layered hairdo.

Momma and Jane had really outdone themselves. Their flawless application of concealer hid all traces of Rachel’s spectacular crying jag.

Caroline wore her usual preppy summer outfit—a pair of navy madras Bermuda shorts, a white golf shirt, and a pair of espadrilles.

“Well,” Arlene said, zoning in on Caroline’s clothes, “let me amend that last remark. Rachel looks great. But Rocky, honey, you look like a refugee from a Hilton Head sailing regatta. If you’re going to wear madras like that, maybe you should think about pink. Pink is such a nice color on you.”

Caroline let the comment roll right off her back. After all, Momma had told her the same thing, right before her lecture about how Baron Woolham was not exactly the man Miriam had predicted for her.

Caroline had listened and nodded. Then she’d dropped her bombshell about the new job in Washington. She assured Momma that she was not interested in any kind of liaisons with English barons or regular Joes. Her entire purpose for being at the demolition derby tonight was to get Rachel hooked up with Bubba.

And if she had to kiss a pig—or Dash Randall—to get it done, she was prepared to make the sacrifice. Rachel had a thing for Bubba. Caroline wasn’t entirely comfortable with that, knowing Bubba as intimately as she did, but Caroline was not about to talk her best friend out of it.

Any woman who cried over Bubba Lockheart the way Rachel had was going to be good for him. And Bubba needed someone who cared enough to have a crying jag over him, because Caroline never had cared that much.

Caroline plopped down beside her aunt-by-marriage and studied the arena where the demolition derby was about to start. The fire department had brought in a couple of big pumpers and hosed the place down so that the entire area was now mired in a good six inches of red mud. The commingled scents of funnel cake and corn dogs filled the air.

“So, girls, I heard all about the Lasso Fiasco and its aftermath. Rachel, honey, I’d say you are dressed for action tonight. And let’s all pray that Bubba is smart enough to get it.”

Caroline turned toward her aunt. “You know, Arlene, it’s amazing how gossip travels in this county.”

Arlene put her sunglasses back on. “Faster than tweets on Twitter.”

“Since when do you tweet?”

“Since Alex bought me a new smart phone. If the church ladies ever catch on to texting, we’re all done for.” She chuckled at her own joke and took a couple of long-neck Buds from the cooler at her feet. She twisted off the tops.

“Here you go, girls. The beer is on me.”

Caroline took the Bud and pressed the cold bottle to her head.

“So speaking of gossip, everyone’s been talking about how that big ol’ strapping duke feller outbid Dash for you at the kissing booth. Course, depending on which version of the story you hear, the duke either got outsmarted by Dash, or Dash got outsmarted by the duke. Which way is it, sugar? I’m dying to know.”

“He’s only a baron, not a duke,” Caroline said then took a slug of beer. It was cold and refreshing.

“Duke, baron, whatever. C’mon, baby, Aunt Arlene wants to know all.”

“Well, there’s nothing to tell. Momma and Jane put me in that humiliating position because Dash lassoed me off the parade float and everyone misinterpreted that.”

“You know, Rocky, you could have explained the truth,” Rachel said.

“Right. And if I did that, then Bubba would have bid for me, not you.”

“And you would have avoided the gossip that’s running around as a result of you dancing barefooted with Lord Woolham into the wee hours,” Arlene said.

“We were just having fun. Since when can’t I have fun at the Watermelon Festival?” Caroline’s voice sounded really defensive, even to her own ears.

“Well, you have a point,” Arlene said, “and I can hardly blame you, if what they say about his kiss is true.”

She blushed.

“Uh-huh, it must be true,” Arlene said.

“Look, he’s a good kisser, okay?”

“You know, seeing as he’s here to force your daddy off his land, enjoying his kisses might not be a good move,” Arlene said.

“I know.” Caroline took another swig of beer.

“And besides, he hardly matches what Miriam predicted for you, does he?” Rachel said, getting her digs in.

Caroline nodded, but her mind kept running over the things Hugh had done over the last few days. He’d been surprisingly accurate with a wooden hoop and a baseball, winning her that stupid stuffed animal that still sat on her bed at Momma’s house. He’d won nearly every game he played.

And he’d talked to Daddy about the broken frogs down at Golfing for God like he actually knew how to fix them.

And he had a bunch of engineering degrees that he’d told her about.

And he had a blood blister on his thumb.

She thought about that blister and her insides melted. Damnit, he was not a regular guy.

He was just exceptionally talented at carnival games and juggling booze bottles. And he was kind and sweet to everyone he met. Even Lillian Bray loved him, despite the fact that he’d given another blue ribbon to Jenny Carpenter yesterday in the pie-baking contest.

He didn’t match the forecast. Did he? Maybe.

That was scary. She pushed it aside. It didn’t matter because Miriam had predicted that he’d end up with Victoria Ashton, heiress. Caroline just needed to remember that.

Assuming, of course, that Miriam really was infallible.

Where had that thought come from? Was it possible for Miriam Randall to be wrong? That possibility had never occurred to Caroline before.

“Hey, ya’ll,” she said to Rachel and Arlene, “do you believe in Miriam Randall?”

“You mean like a god?” Rachel asked.

“No, I mean about her ability to foretell matrimonial bliss.”

“What is it, hon, are you worried? Do you really love Dash even though he thought that whole lasso thing was a joke?” Aunt Arlene asked.

“No. I don’t love Dash. But I guess I’m a little bit worried. What if my true love isn’t a regular guy, and I go around trying to find a regular guy and I miss my real soulmate because I’m not looking for him.”

“Rocky,” Rachel said, “quit obsessing. If Miriam said you’re going to marry a regular guy, you’re going to marry a regular guy. And from what I’ve heard, the minute you look at this guy, you’ll know—down deep.”

Down deep where? In her girl parts? Oh, yeah, she felt that sexual pull the first time she’d laid eyes on Hugh deBracy. She’d also been annoyed at him for being a snob.

But he wasn’t a snob, was he? He was…

She wouldn’t let her mind go there. Hugh was a decent human being.

“What’s got you so worried?” Rachel asked.

Caroline put the empty bottle down beside her feet then turned on the bleacher seat so she faced her aunt and her best friend. “Suppose you found someone, and you could see that he might fit Miriam’s advice, but he had a forecast of his own from Miriam that you knew you could never match? What then? Should you try to become the woman he’s looking for?” Not that Caroline could become an heiress, of course, but she asked the question anyway.

Aunt Arlene pushed her sunglasses up onto her frosted hair and gave Caroline one of those meaningful looks that older women always give younger women when wisdom is about to be imparted. Caroline braced herself for the bad news. “Honey, I just don’t understand why you’re always thinking that you need to be somebody other than who you are. I think, in order to find your soulmate, or just to make a good marriage or relationship, you’ve got to be yourself. You can’t go pretending to be someone else just to please a man. That’s just dumb, and you’re smarter than that.”

“I am smarter than that. That’s what Sharon told me a long, long time ago. And that’s why I told Bubba no.”

“Exactly. So don’t go being dumb now, especially since I heard from your momma that you finally landed that job in Washington. When you find the right man, he’ll be all right with you being who you are, working for the senator and all. Trust me on this. Miriam helped me find my match, and your Uncle Pete never tried to change me.”

Caroline leaned over and dropped her arm across Arlene’s shoulders to give her a squeeze. Uncle Pete had passed away only a few weeks ago, after a long battle with cancer. Arlene was living alone for the first time in her life. “You doing okay, Arlene?”

She managed a trembling smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. But I sure do miss your uncle.”

“Me, too.” Caroline leaned in and gave Arlene a little kiss on the cheek.

Arlene gathered up her composure and batted Caroline away. “Don’t you get all syrupy on me now. Your uncle wouldn’t be happy about that. He was the happiest man I ever knew. And I’m trying to be happy without him.

“Here, have another beer.” Arlene leaned into her cooler and pressed another cold one into Caroline’s hand. She took a deep swallow. It tasted yeasty and better than anything Hugh had made for her the other night at Dottie’s. Maybe she should read the signs. Like she was a beer person, not a martini person.