Читать книгу All I Have - Nicole Helm - Страница 13
ОглавлениеTHISTIMEWHEN Mia dropped a pallet full of vegetables, it wasn’t Cara’s fault. Instead, it was the sign under Morning Sun’s stand: Morning Sun Farms. Home of the Naked Farmer.
The sound coming out of her mouth was somewhere between a screech and a snarl. Then Cara started giggling.
“Oh, my God. He’s brilliant. Brilliant.”
“Brilliant?” Mia sucked in a breath, tried to find some center of calm. All she found was more anger. “He’s a glorified stripper!”
“A brilliant glorified stripper.”
Mia bent to pick up the scattered radish bunches and cabbage heads. She couldn’t believe he was using the title she’d come up with against her. And he wasn’t even naked! Only half-naked.
Right?
Mia peeked above the table to make sure. Yep. He was still wearing jeans. Although they were loose enough to hang low on his hips and were liberally streaked with dirt and grass stains at the knees. He could be in a hot-farmer calendar with that getup.
All he needed to do was stick his thumbs through his belt loops, pull down the pants a little bit, maybe flex.
The image was not at all appealing.
Not at all.
Mia shook her head and focused on the vegetables. Putting them out in neat rows, hanging the pretty little price tags Anna had made for her in art class. Maybe Dell offered a certain kind of appeal to some women, but families would appreciate Pruitt’s cleanliness, cuteness and overall clothedness.
She told herself that all morning, but woman after woman, regardless of the number of children they were carting around, fled to Dell and his shirtless idiocy. A few families came by her booth and bought some vegetables. A few of the women came over and bought a pan of Mom’s cinnamon rolls, since Dell wasn’t offering any baked goods at his table.
But mainly, Dell was winning. And she didn’t know how to fight back. It was an old, familiar feeling. In the first grade, she’d accidentally tucked her skirt into her underwear and hadn’t noticed for hours. Six years old, and she’d been forever labeled a geek. The teasing had escalated each school year, and her attempts to fit in had only made it worse.
She’d never known how to make herself above the jokes, the snickers. She’d either tried too hard or stayed invisible. There was no in-between for her.
Mia took a deep breath and looked around the market. This space had given her the tools to be confident enough not to care what other people thought. To quiet the incessant voice in her head telling her she was doing everything wrong. She’d mostly found her in-between in adulthood and maturity, and that couldn’t be taken away.
She might not know how to beat Dell yet, but she’d figure it out. Damn right she would.
As the morning wore down, Cara started packing up. “Anna texted me she won her event. She wants us to meet her at Moonrise at twelve thirty.”
Mia muttered her assent, scowling at a grinning Dell as much as she could while they packed up the truck.
He sauntered over and Mia straightened to her full height. She wished for a few more inches so he wouldn’t tower over her like some kind of Paul Bunyan. At least he had managed to put on his shirt before he came over.
He pulled his wallet out of his pocket. “I’ll take one of your mom’s cinnamon rolls.” He grinned when Cara smiled at him, all but fluttering her lashes as she handed over the tin of gooey baked goods. “I sure worked up an appetite selling so much today.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard stripping is really hard work. Maybe next week 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 what other people thought, but not progress enough to use her body as some kind of selling point. Wasn’t that just a few steps away from prostitution?
Mia exhaled. Took another deep breath. Dell had kicked her ass today. It didn’t take a look at his books to know he’d outsold her by almost half. All because he had a nice body and a swoon-worthy smile? How was that fair?
If she wore tighter jeans, a shirt that didn’t hide every last curve, well, it wasn’t as if she’d look any different than most of the women her age. It wasn’t using sex as a selling tool. It was another step in being more like a normal twenty-six-year-old woman.
She’d gained confidence the past few years, finding her sense of self. It would be nice if the rest would fall into place, but maybe there were still changes to make to get to normal.
Maybe dressing the part would even bring her closer to that actual having-sex step. Or at least a real-kiss step. A date would be nice. Having someone look at her with the interest usually reserved for Cara.
So maybe it wasn’t even all about the stand. Maybe this was a natural progression on the road she’d already taken. Start...dressing the part of a confident, successful young businesswoman who was possibly interested in a little male attention.
She would do this for herself, not just to compete, but to find her rightful spot in adulthood. Bolstered, Mia stepped out of the stall, head held high.
