Love, Lies and Texas Dips (11 page)

OMFG.

Jo started to stand up, her legs wobbling. Where was Dillon? Why was it taking him so long to get their margaritas? She wanted the truth right this minute!

Whoa, girl, whoa
.

She took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down, which is when it clicked in her brain that confrontation was the wrong approach entirely.

What am I, crazy?

Jo sank back down into her chair, and her course shifted 180 degrees. Clear as day, she realized she couldn’t ask Dillon why he had that skank’s name in his phone without him knowing she’d snooped, without him thinking that she didn’t trust him. And for someone like Dillon Masters, who constantly had people grabbing at him and wanting things from him, trust meant everything.

No matter how much it hurt, Jo had no choice but to stay cool and pretend she’d never nosed around in Dillon’s cell. Until she could figure out the truth on her own, she’d just keep finding more ways to dig an even deeper grave for Laura Bell.

A loving heart has a cataract
cannot see.

—Louise Colet

What’s so wrong
with believing in true love?

—
Laura Bell

Six

Since Labor Day had begun less than optimally, with Mac dragging her out of bed and to the country club gym, Laura spent the afternoon doing something requiring zero exertion or sweat: she lounged on the sofa in the downstairs den, pale hair pulled back in a madras-plaid headband, dressed for comfort in a pair of hot-pink Capri pants, white T-shirt, and bare feet. The room was large but cozy, filled with overstuffed furnishings, walnut bookshelves, faded Turkish rugs, and potted palms. The sun streamed through the slanted shutters on the windows, dimming the screen of the sixty-inch TV, but Laura didn’t care. She’d set it on mute while MTV counted down the top ten most bling-filled episodes
of My Super Sweet 16
.

She focused on the fall issue
of Brides
magazine in her lap, poring over the pictures. She kept dog-earing pages that featured elaborate to-die-for gowns so Tincy could forward her ideas to Vera Wang for her custom-made Rosebud gown. Hers had to be
perfect
in every way, more so because she wasn’t a size nothing like most of the other girls. She was determined to outclass and outgorgeous Jo Lynn
Bidwell, no matter what it took, and it was going to take plenty.

Ding-dong!

Laura lifted her head at the sound of the doorbell, though she made no move to get up. She wasn’t expecting anyone, what with Mac on a bike ride with Alex Bishop, and Ginger doomed to spend the afternoon at her grandmother’s house.

“Baby, will you get that?” Tincy yelled from another room as the bell chimed again.

“I’m busy!” Laura called back, and returned her eyes to the pages of
Brides
, not moving except to scratch an itch on her nose.

“Never mind, I’ll do it myself!” her mother hollered back, and Laura soon heard the click-clack of high heels on the polished floors.

With the housekeeper and even Babette, Tincy Bell’s social secretary, off for Labor Day, it was Tincy herself who brought a pink-cheeked Mac into the den where Laura was sprawled out.

“You’ve got a guest, sweetie.” Her mom paused in the doorway, her skinny arms crossed, looking pink and green in her preppy Lilly Pulitzer sundress. Her face still seemed shiny and flushed from a morning spa treatment. Mac might’ve appeared a little flushed too, though she was anything but shiny in her rumpled shorts and purple T-shirt, a gloomy look on her bespectacled face.

“Thanks, Mother,” Laura said, sitting up on the sofa and setting the fat magazine aside so Mac could flop down beside her.

“Let me know if y’all need anything,” Tincy said.

“We will.”

Once her mom had pulled the pocket doors closed behind her, Laura pounced on her pal. “What’re you doing here,
chica?
. You’re supposed to be spending all afternoon with the Geek Next Door. Did he blow you off so he could stay home and watch the
Battlestar Galactica
marathon on the Sci-Fi Channel?”

“Ha-ha, very funny.” Mac grabbed a pillow and hugged it, sighing heavily. “I’m just a little bummed. Why can’t things ever turn out the way I plan?”

“Welcome to my world,” Laura said with a laugh, though Mac didn’t even crack a smile. In fact, she hadn’t seen Mac looking so grim since her dad had married Honey Potts, something she still hadn’t gotten over. “Good God, Mackenzie, what’s wrong? Did you and Alex have a fight? You look like the world’s about to end.”

“It’s not quite as bad as Armageddon,” Mac insisted, and tossed the pillow aside, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Everything was going great until we had a stupid
picnic crasher.”

“A picnic crasher?” Laura raised her eyebrows. She’d heard of wedding crashers and party crashers—hell, she’d
been
a party crasher—but never that.

“I had no idea Alex had invited anyone else until I realized he’d packed too much food and then I heard him on the phone,” Mac rattled off breathlessly, looking relieved to finally be able to spit it out. “We were about to have lunch and then all of a sudden
she
showed up. I had to sit there like a drone and watch her and Alex flirt like we were back in junior high. I know it shouldn’t bug me this much, but it does.” Mac tapped her chin on her knee, arms wrapped tightly around her bent legs.

“She who?” Laura asked, since Mac had left a big freaking
blank in the story. “And, wait, did you say
invited?
. So Alex knew she was coming, but didn’t tell you? No wonder you’re pissed.”

Mac nodded. “I guess he thought I wouldn’t care, but I do, even though we’re just friends, right?”

“For God’s sake, Mac,
who?”
Laura tried again.

Mac opened her mouth to reply.

Ding-dong!

Once the doorbell chimed, Mac zipped her lips.

“Ignore that. Go on, spill,” Laura prodded, but her friend’s head had turned toward the pocket doors, as voices grew louder beyond it, accompanied by the staccato tap of footsteps in the hallway.

“Someone’s coming,” Mac said just as the pocket doors slid back open and Ginger strolled into the room. Her red hair stuck out in messy peaks around her freckled face, which broke into a huge pixie grin the moment she spied Laura sitting there with Mac.

“Nice! It’s like a Three Amigas surprise reunion!” Laura hopped up from the sofa and gave Ginger a hug. “But I thought you were grounded. How’d you get away?”

“Deena gave me a reprieve since I played nice at Rose’s.” Ging ruffled Mac’s hair before she plunked down on the floor, tucking the skirt of her dress around her as she sat cross-legged. “You won’t believe what happened at Grammy’s tea party.”

“I’m still waiting to hear what happened with Mac,” Laura said, settling back down beside Mac and giving her a nudge. “She was just about to dish on some girl who showed up and ruined their Labor Day picnic by flirting with Alex Bishop, which apparently made our little Mackie a wee bit jealous!”

“Am not,” Mac said defensively, her face beet red, prompting Laura to chant, “Liar, liar, pants on fire,” until Mac whacked her with a throw pillow and begged,
“Shut up.”

“What girl are you talking about?” Ginger asked, leaning forward. “Someone we know?”

“I was getting to that,” Mac said, clearly irritated. “It was Cindy Chow, the transfer from St. John’s. She and Alex met at a stupid car show, and I am
so
not jealous.” Mac gave the bridge of her smart-girl glasses a shove. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing. I just wanted some time with Alex alone, and I didn’t get it. That’s all there is to it. End of story.” She raised her chin as if daring anyone to refute her.

Laura glanced at Ginger, knowing that she didn’t believe Mac any more than Laura did. Still, you could only push Mac Mackenzie’s buttons so many times before she shut down. And Mac’s posture—knees to her chest, arms hugging them, lips pursed—meant they wouldn’t pry anything more out of her, not right now.

So she turned to face Ginger, nudging her with a bare foot. “Guess it’s your turn to share, since Mac’s being a party pooper.” Laura ignored Mac, who stuck out her tongue. “How’s Rose Dupree?”

“As sly as ever,” Ginger said, blowing out a slow breath. “Y’all wouldn’t believe how she set me up.” Her petite hands fluttered, gesturing as she told them, “I’m having my portrait done in my grandmother’s debutante gown, and the artist painting me is the grandson of the guy who painted Rose when she was a Rosebud.”

“Does that sound like an old
Gilmore Girls
rerun or what?” Mac cracked. “But if you tell me how hot he is, I’m gonna gag.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you”—Ginger grinned mischievously, looking fit to burst—“but he is.”

Mac pretended to stick a finger down her throat.

“Only I’ve got these strange vibes about him, like I met him a long time ago, and it wasn’t good,” Ginger said, causing Laura to squint with confusion.

“So, it’s a past-life thing?” she teased, but Ginger shook her head.

“More like a middle school thing. He’s a senior at Caldwell now,” Ginger explained. “He’s been up east in boarding school. Someplace called Rockhurst, I think. He moved away after sixth grade.”

“What’s his name?” Mac prodded, beating Laura to the punch.

“Kent Wakefield,” Ginger supplied.

“Wakefield,” Laura repeated, and shrugged, not recognizing the name. She looked at Mac, who shrugged as well.

“Um, Mackenzie.” Ginger sat up on her heels. “Any chance you could ask Alex if I could borrow an old Caldwell Academy yearbook from when we were all in sixth grade? I want to look Kent up, see if anything jogs my brain.”

“Sure,” Mac said before asking, “You really have to sit for him? Won’t that be boring?”

“Well,
I
think it’s très exciting,” Laura said, wishing Mac would stop being such a drag. “Do y’all remember the scene in
Titanic
where Kate Winslet poses for Leo, and she’s wearing, like,
nothing
except that necklace and you can tell right then and there how much they’re in love.” Laura feigned a swoon, falling back on the cushions. “Oh, man, that was beautiful!”

“I think I just threw up in my mouth a little,” Mac said dryly.

But Ginger looked amused, at least momentarily. “The
only bad thing about it is I’ll have my first sitting tomorrow night at Rose’s right after the deb orientation meeting.” She winced. “So I can’t sneak off to Marble Slab with y’all afterward.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute.” Mac gesticulated wildly. “I thought we were doing all this deb crap together. You can’t bail on us,” she groaned.

“Yes, she can, if it’s important,” Laura chastised, and Mac scowled in response. Then she turned to Ginger and gushed, “How totally cool to have your deb portrait done. The rest of us will just have dumb old photographs to show for it, but you’ll have real art.”

“I hoped you’d understand,” Ginger said, sounding relieved. “And I promise I’ll meet y’all there, and we can all sit together.” Her wide mouth curved into a full-fledged grin. “It’s gonna be so amazing, being with you two at Rosebud orientation, getting our handbooks—”

“And watching Jo Lynn Bidwell and her Bimbo Cartel squirm, knowing how much they
loathe
the fact that we’re there at all,” Laura said, butting in, and Ginger giggled.

“Let’s just hope Jo-L doesn’t get wind of your messing around with her boyfriend at the club gym this morning,” Mac said pointedly.

“I wasn’t messing around with him,” Laura snapped back, wanting to put the smack-down on her for even bringing that up, when Laura hadn’t spilled that part of her plan to Ginger yet.

Ginger wrinkled her pert nose, looking clueless. “What’s this about you and Dillon? What’d I miss?” was all she got out before the melodic
ding-dong
of the door chimes interrupted them.

Before Laura could open her mouth, Tincy called out,
“Sweetheart!
Would you come out here, please? You’ve got another delivery!”

“Another
delivery?” Mac squinted. “Have you been watching QVC? You didn’t order, like, fifty lip-gloss holders with mirrors or something?”

“No, smart-ass, I didn’t order lip-gloss holders,” Laura said, getting up from the sofa and marching barefoot toward the pocket doors, sliding them open. “I think it’s from my secret admirer,” she tossed over her shoulder before she raced toward the foyer, the noise of Mac’s and Ginger’s footsteps right behind her.

“Where is it?” Laura ran up to Tincy, who was carrying a box toward the kitchen.

“It’s all yours,” her mom said once she’d set it down on the glass and wrought-iron breakfast table.

Hardly aware that Mac and Ginger had gathered around her, Laura glanced at the Fairytale Bakery return address, her adrenaline rushing. She didn’t waste a minute, ripping the package open and spilling out its contents from a nest of Styro foam peanuts. She plucked out a purple box from its center and opened it wide to reveal dozens of brownies, a bag of cashews, and a big jar of caramel sauce for dipping. Like the gifts before—the Godiva chocolates and the gourmet cupcakes—there was a simple message included:
From your admirer
.