you can add some glittery tassels.”
His jaw tensed, but then he smiled, his gaze drifting to her chest. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in some glittery tassels.”
Wait. What?
He cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “That’s not...what I meant.” He shoved the money at her. Mia grunted in disgust, trying to pretend she wasn’t the darkest shade of red possible. She took his money and opened the change bank.
“Oh, don’t worry about it, hon.” He drawled out the hon until Mia ground her teeth. “Keep the change.”
She needed one snappy comeback and she could forget this bizarre conversation had ever happened. But her mind was blank.
“It looks as if you guys might be needing the extra money after all.” He winked, tipped his baseball cap.
“Of all the arrog—”
“Thanks, Dell,” Cara said, stepping in front of her. “We appreciate it. See you next week.”
“Sure thing, Carrie.”
Dell sauntered off and Mia pushed her sister. “What the hell? He was being totally patronizing.”
Cara shrugged. “So what? He’s cute. He smiled at me. Apparently he wants to see you in tassels, which, oh, my God. And he gave us five bucks. That’s a two-buck tip.”
“He called you Carrie.”
Cara shrugged. “Hey, if he wants me to be a Carrie, I’ll be a Carrie.”
Mia slammed the truck bed shut and hopped into the driver’s seat, fuming. Keep the change. It looks as if you guys might be needing the extra money after all. She’d show him where he could shove his change.
She would not, not, not think about the bizarre tassels comment. Of course he didn’t mean it. No one could even see her breasts under her sweatshirt.
Even more important, she knew how Dell saw her. How everyone still saw her. She might have changed, but everyone from New Benton knew her as the girl who’d written and performed a one-woman play about cow milking at the school talent show in an attempt to get in with the theater kids.
No one wanted to see the girl who’d done that in anything other than a clown outfit.
Cara sang along with Carrie Underwood as Mia drove back to New Benton. The thirty-minute drive didn’t calm her. She was still furious when she slid into a booth at the Moonrise Diner.
Anna was already seated, her hair in a wet ponytail from her swim meet, a New Benton High jacket across her shoulders. She looked over the menu. A menu that hadn’t changed in any of their lifetimes. When she looked up, her head snapped back. “Uh-oh. Who crossed Mia? She’s breathing fire.”
Cara laughed, slinging an arm over Anna’s shoulders. “I’ll give you one guess.”
Across the table, Mia sneered at them.
“Ah. Dell. I take it he got payback for the pictures?”
“Yup. He’s still kicking her ass at the market. He even used the Naked Farmer thing to his advantage. Poor Mia isn’t taking it well.”
Mallory set their usual drinks in front of them. “You girls want the usual?”
“I want a salad instead of fries,” Anna announced, putting the menu back behind the napkin dispenser. Mallory nodded and then disappeared to put in their orders.
“You need to up your game,” Anna instructed, with the kind of surety Mia had never, ever had at seventeen.
She slumped in the booth. She was furious because she thought she’d gained the upper hand and Dell had proved that to be false without even trying. “How am I supposed to compete with beefcake of the month?”
“You have breasts.” Cara pointed to Mia’s chest.
Mia choked on the sip of soda she’d taken. “Excuse me?”
“I mean, you can’t take your shirt off, but you could show off a few of those assets you insist on hiding. Women aren’t the only ones who go to the farmers’ market.”
She couldn’t even begin to formulate a response to her sister suggesting she use her breasts as some kind of selling device. Why were they getting so much attention today?
“Cara’s on to something,” Anna said, tapping her chin. “All you have to do is get some tighter jeans. Not even skintight, just ones that actually fit. A T-shirt instead of the baggy sweats.”
“But—”
“We were right about the hair, weren’t we?”
Yes, a year ago her sisters had finally convinced her the perm wasn’t doing anything for her. Cara had gotten her an appointment with the hairstylist at the salon she worked at in Millertown. Shelly had made Mia’s mousy, flat hair look decent with the right cut and highlights.
“And the glasses.”
“Hey, I started wearing contacts for practical reasons.” Mia folded and unfolded the napkin in front of her. She’d gotten to the point where she’d broken so many pairs of glasses and spent so much time cleaning them when she was out in the fields, getting over her eye-touching phobia had been downright necessary.
Losing the glasses hadn’t been some lame attempt at being pretty. Even if she’d hoped the guys would magically start flocking once she went the contact route. Stupid movies giving girls stupid expectations.
Guys didn’t flock. She could turn into Jessica Rabbit and everyone would still see her as Mia, Queen of the Geeks. She might have gotten over some of her shyness and social anxiety, but it certainly hadn’t changed people’s perception of her. Not here. Not when she’d accidentally set her hair on fire in chem lab freshman year. Twice.
“Whatever,” Cara said with the wave of a hand. “The point is, guys are customers, too. Tight jeans, a low-cut shirt, you’re good to go.”
“I am not stooping to Dell’s level.”
“Suit yourself,” Anna replied with a shrug. “But don’t come complaining to us when his profits kick your profits’ ass.”
“You have a decent ass. You might as well flaunt it.”
“You guys are nuttier than a fruitcake.” Mia pushed out of the booth.
“Where are you going?”
“To the bathroom.” Mia knew the bathrooms of every establishment in New Benton like the back of her hand, having spent many a hyperventilating moment in each of their stalls. Moonrise Diner had the nicest of the lot, so if she was going to do a little hyperventilating, there were few better places.
Mia shut herself in the first stall, took a deep breath. She had a decent body underneath the baggy clothes, but she’d never felt comfortable showcasing it. She’d made progress the past few years in confidence and not caring
