start being careful about your health,” Mom said primly, taking a sip of her milk. Skim milk. “There are ways to make desserts healthier.”
“It’s Grandma’s recipe!”
“Remember when Grandpa said they used to feed skim milk to the pigs when he was growing up?” Anna said with a grin, causing Mom to roll her eyes and huff out an annoyed breath.
“Yes, we did,” Dad said, taking a defiant bite of brownie. Dessert was about the only thing he ever got defiant over.
Mia picked at the brownies Cara had brought over. Like everything Cara made, they were delicious, but ever since the market this morning she’d felt...weird.
Buoyed, yes. But, and she hated this but, Dell saying she was hot kept playing itself over and over in her mind, and her stomach felt all jittery and nervous and not at all interested in food.
She did not want to care that Dell said she had nice...assets. Why would she care? Why would that please her? It shouldn’t. It was all very unstrong, unfeminist, unbusinesswoman of her.
But she was pleased. She couldn’t help it. A guy thought she was hot. That had never happened before. At least not that she knew of. The fact it was Dell?
You are an idiot.
“Earth to Mia.”
Jostled out of her annoying, embarrassing thoughts, Mia looked up at Cara.
“Ready to go?” She nodded toward the door, the international Cara symbol for “get me away from Mom before I lose it.”
“Yup.” Separation was definitely best when Cara got that squirrelly look about her. Mia didn’t feel like playing peacemaker tonight. She wasn’t sure what she felt like doing, but it wasn’t that.
They got up from the table, offering Anna hugs and Dad goodbyes while Mom followed, the typical anxiety waving off her.
“Why don’t you girls stay the night?” Mom engulfed Mia in a cinnamon-scented hug. She lowered her voice. “Sweetie, next time maybe you should wear one of those—what are they called?—camisole things under that shirt. It’s a little low cut. You wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what she wants,” Cara whispered, earning herself a jab in the side.
“What, dear?”
“Nothing.” Mia pushed Cara toward the door. “Ignore her. Do you want us to take the leftover brownies?”
“Oh, yes. Your father will inhale them before the night’s over if you don’t. Maybe next time you try my trick of making them with applesauce? Adding a little zucchini? It cuts back on the fat and—”
“It’s Grandma’s rec—”
Mia discreetly moved in between Mom and Cara. “Yes, Mom. Applesauce. Will do.”
“Oh, I hate you two girls living on your own.” Their mother wrung her hands, fretting next to the door as Mia and Cara shrugged on their coats. For two years Mia and Cara had shared an apartment. Still, every time they left the Pruitt farmhouse, Mom worried over the two young women living alone.
Cara rolled her eyes and groaned. “We’re only ten minutes away, Mom. Two years, and a serial killer hasn’t gotten us yet.”
Mia pushed Cara again. “You’re not helping.”
Mom clucked her tongue. “Stay the night. Silly to drive all the way home when it’s dark out.”
“We’re only ten minutes away,” Mia repeated gently.
Mom took a deep breath and let it out, offering a pained smile. “All right. All right. We’ll see you in the morning.” Cara and Mia waved as they stepped out the door.
“Don’t forget to get one of those camisoles, Mia!” Mom called after them. “And make sure to lock both locks on your door. Oh, and lock your car doors, even when you’re driving.”
Cara groaned into the evening quiet. “Seriously, how did we turn out normal? How did they even manage to produce three children? Never mind—I don’t want to know the answer to that.”
Mia climbed into the driver’s seat of her truck. Cara and Anna were on that normal spectrum, but she wasn’t always sure she was. How long had Mom’s outer monologue been Mia’s inner dialogue? She’d learned to manage the anxiety, push away the worry about what other people might think or do, but it wasn’t as if the voice had disappeared.
Cara turned in her seat, smiling weirdly as Mia pulled out onto the highway.
“Okay, so hear me out before you totally shoot me down, ’kay?” Cara practically bounced in her seat.
“Oh, God.”
“It’s Saturday night. We rocked it at the market today. You look like someone I wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen with. I don’t have to work at the salon tomorrow.” Cara clutched Mia’s arm. “Let’s go to a bar.”
Mia laughed, shaking off Cara’s grip so she could have both hands on the steering wheel. “Right.”
“I’m serious! It’ll be fun. A few drinks. We find a few cute guys to chat up. Maybe you give a guy your number.”
Mia’s shoulders involuntarily hunched before she told herself to relax them. She was twenty-six, for heaven’s sake. This was what she should be doing on a Saturday night. Not sitting at home with her seed catalogs. Maybe this was the something different she was wanting.
Still, the idea left her vaguely nauseous.
“We’ll have fun! I promise! We can leave whenever you want. Please, please, please, please—”
“All right!”
Cara’s squeal was ear piercing. “Let’s go to Juniors. Way hotter guys there.”
“Super.” Mia tried to talk herself into some enthusiasm. She wasn’t going to meet a guy holed up in her apartment, and she probably wasn’t going to meet a guy working at the farm or even at the farmers’ market. If she wanted to drop the virginity, she was going to have to put herself out there.
If she could control her blushing, quiet the anxiety, keep her mouth under control, there was no reason this couldn’t be a fun evening.
And Cara wondered why she wasn’t more proactive in the dating scene.
Mia pulled into the crowded lot of Juniors. New Benton boasted only two bars, and Mia had never spent time at either, unless occasionally picking up a drunk Cara counted. Still, the whole town knew Juniors was where the young people went and The Shack was the old, townie bar.
Cara rummaged around in her purse as Mia parked in the back. She flipped down the visor mirror and began applying mascara, holding out a tube of something in her free hand. “Here.”
“Oh, I—”
“Just put
