her camera bag over her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of herself and Jasmine in the full-length mirror beside her door. Jasmine looking sophisticated and mature. Ashley? Well, she fit in perfectly with her old bedroom: looking like she was exactly the same girl she’d been in high school.
“Maybe I’ll change,” she said on a whim.
“Do you want help picking something out?” Jazz asked eagerly.
Ash opened her closet and sighed. “If you want. There aren’t a lot of options, though.”
Rifling through the limited clothes in Ashley’s closet, Jasmine picked out a checked top and an old pair of jeans. The choices weren’t much better than what Ashley was currently wearing, and she said so.
“Do you have scissors?”
“Yeah, why?”
“These just need a few alterations.” After Ashley passed Jazz the scissors from her desk, Jasmine quickly cut the arms off the shirt and handed it to her. “Put this on.” While Ash buttoned up the shirt, Jazz went to work, chopping the legs off the jeans. It happened so quick, Ash didn’t have a chance to stop her and tell her those were her second favorite pair.
“Now these.”
Ashley wriggled out of the jeans she was wearing and slid the shorts up her legs. She checked her image in the mirror. She looked ridiculous. The shirt hung over the too-short shorts, making it look like she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “I think they’re too short and the—”
“I’m not done.” Jasmine interrupted. Using her manicured nails, she distressed the bottom of the shorts, created a fringe of denim. “You have amazing legs. You need to show them off.”
“I don’t know,” Ash said hesitantly, thinking the shorts were something Brandi would be more likely to wear.
“The shorts aren’t too short. The shirt is too long.”
Snip. Snip.
Before Ash could stop her, Jasmine had begun to chop off the bottom of the shirt. Once she was done, she removed all buttons from her navel down.
“Now, we just tie this in front like this.” She tied the two ends of material and turned Ashley toward the mirror. “Look at your stomach. People would kill to have a flat stomach like yours.” Jasmine smiled at their reflections. “I think this is exactly the kind of outfit that Colton would like, don’t you?”
“Do you think?”
“Uh, yeah. Watching him last night? He seems like a...manly man, you know?”
No, Ash did not know. Though a flashback from when Colton backed her up against the outside of the hotel made her catch her breath and warmed her skin. He’d certainly seemed manly then.
Jasmine reached around and unbuttoned another button so that the top of Ashley’s bra was visible. “He’s the kind of man that appreciates it when a woman looks like a woman.” She grinned. “And this should do it.”
Ashley gazed at her reflection. Did she want to tempt a guy like Colton?
Her sister’s snide remark rang between her ears: What the hell are you doing with Colton Cross?... I can tell when someone’s getting some. You—my uptight little sister—are not getting any.
Who said she wanted anything from Colton Cross? She didn’t. But was there anything wrong with wanting people to think that she could tempt a cocky bull rider like Colton Cross?
Nope. Nothing wrong at all.
With shoulders back, Ash led the way to the front door.
Time to find the cowboy and enact a little simulated seduction.
However, once she and Jasmine arrived at the fairgrounds, Ashley forgot all about Colton. Or, nearly. He was like a morning coffee, long gone but the flavor still subtly lingering hours later.
She was too busy taking pictures of the grounds, the vendors, the contestants, the kids and games and food booths, while listening to Jasmine catch her up on the last five years of her life.
“I worked for a few years in my uncle’s law firm. It was okay, mostly administrative stuff. But I kept taking classes in the evenings.”
Ash focused the lens, zoomed in and focused again. A child’s face, crumpled, about to cry as his balloon slipped out of his fingers.
Click.
“What kind of classes?” Ash asked, letting the camera dangle from around her neck as they wandered past the chili tasting booths. “Law? You thinking about law school?”
Jasmine snorted. “No. I’m not you.” She sniffed. “Aesthetics. Hair. Laser. Makeup. You know. Beauty school stuff.”
Ashley glanced sideways at her friend. Jasmine had never got the kind of marks that she had in high school. But she was smart; she’d just spent more time on her wardrobe than on her studies. “You could be a lawyer if you wanted, you know.”
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t need to work.”
Ash stopped and looked at her friend. “Why not?”
A weird smile crossed Jazz’s face. “Parker’s loaded. You should see our place in Chicago.” She grabbed Ash’s hands. “In fact, you should come visit. No. You have to come. You’re going to be my maid of honor.”
Typical. Jasmine hadn’t asked Ash. She’d just decided. Ash both resented and envied that in her friend.
“So, tell me about Parker.”
“Oh, you have to meet him. He’s so...suave. Elegant. You know? He’s like Mr. GQ. Or something.”
Ash used the camera as a means to tune out her friend and her recitation of her perfect life. She wanted to be happy for her, she really, really did. But sometimes it was just so hard when Ashley’s own life felt so insignificant and provincial beside her friend’s.
Holding the camera in front of her face, she stopped just outside the rodeo grounds, taking a picture of four cowboys heading through the gates: three black hats, one white, Western shirts, bowlegged gaits, their worn jeans fitting perfectly.
Say what you want about cowboys, but rodeo boys had seriously nice asses.
Click.
“Excuse me, have you seen a little boy? Four years old, blond hair, Superman shirt, green balloon?”
Ashley lowered her camera. A woman she didn’t recognize stood there with a baby in her arms and a worried expression on her face.
“I don’t think so. What’s his name?” Jasmine asked.
“Noah.”
Ashley scrolled through the images on her camera, finding the one with the child and the balloon. Sure enough, the boy was wearing a Superman shirt. She showed it to the woman.
“Yes. That’s him. Where was he?”
