And Then He Kissed Me Read Free Page A

drying up.
    The dusting of blush made her soap-clean face look sun-kissed. Her brown eyes, suddenly outlined in black, were both enormous and mysterious. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders in a way that reminded her of a waterfall—fierce and a little reckless. Audrey studied the changes silently. If she were honest with herself, she had to admit she looked good.
    No, scratch that. She looked hot .
    “How do you like it?” Deborah asked.
    It was a wild, breathtaking look she’d only ever considered once before. And then locked away permanently.
    “I take it your silence is good?” Deborah asked.
    “Very good,” Audrey replied finally, almost smiling.
    “All right, tiger. Go get ’em.”
    She tottered out to the showroom floor in her new heels, part of her wondering if she was going to make it—and if everything was going to be okay after all.
    *  *  *
    Three hours later, Audrey could feel her underwear riding up her backside. Sweat was trickling down her thighs in rivulets. Skin-tight jeans were nearly cutting off her circulation, and leather chaps on top of the denim were raising her core body temperature enough to make her light-headed. A girl could be uncomfortable or embarrassed, she thought, but to be both at the same time was a special kind of torture.
    She cringed at how alien she felt. What part of her had thought this was a good idea? Sure, she needed a job, but this wasn’t employment, it was torture.
    Bright light sliced through the showroom’s enormous floor-to-ceiling windows and Audrey squinted, allowing that maybe this had been a mistake. She was a fish out of water in these clothes and with this hair—or maybe it was more like a monkey in a costume.
    But it was either perform or walk. And Audrey had no other options.
    She placed her hands on her hips, determined to look alluring just like Fletch had asked. Leather fringe on her cuff links fluttered like strips of ribbon in the wind. Standing next to one of the Harley-Davidson motorcycles in the showroom, she wondered what, exactly, alluring was. Track coaches didn’t get much practice with things like that.
    Former track coaches, that is.
    A sharp pain pierced the tender place just behind her breastbone. She gritted her teeth. Smile more, think less.
    The murmurs of the customers filled her ears. People swarmed amid the shiny chrome and sleek black lines of the motorcycles lining the floor all around her. For the past few hours, drivers had been thundering up and down the road just beyond the towering showroom windows, like cowboys riding handlebarred horses.
    The noise from the engines was nearly loud enough to drown out her thoughts. Which was a good thing, considering that the only thing her brain wanted to focus on was the question of what in the heck she was doing here. And whether or not she should ever come back.
    “Audrey?”
    She turned. It must have been the sixth or seventh time she’d heard the question since she started her shift, the vowels and consonants of her name laced with disbelief.
    This time, it was Red Updike. He’d sold her grass-fed beef from his farm for years. He stared at her, flannel shirt tucked into his well-worn Levi’s, his mouth pulled slightly downward.
    Her spine stiffened with embarrassment and something more. Frustration, maybe. It was one thing if Audrey wanted to feel out of place in these clothes and with all this makeup, but why did the people of White Pine have to stare at her like she was a circus freak with three heads? She imagined tongues were already wagging down at the Paul Bunyan Diner about her changes.
    The thought made her want to stick the heel of her stiletto through one of the motorcycle tires and listen to it deflate with a satisfying hiss. She was irked enough with her situation without her community piling insult on injury. Instead of using her heel like a steak knife, Audrey plastered on the smile she’d perfected through a lifetime of agreeable rule-following.
    “Hello,