Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
“If I knew all it took to get you here was a pretty dress, I’d have sewn one myself.”
“The operative word is pretty,” Astor replies with a sharp jut of her chin. Her almost instinctive antagonism toward me drives away any of her nerves, which is why I’m here. I do care about her flashing her money maker to crowds of people who don’t appreciate her beauty, but most of all, I care if she’s uncomfortable, and Birdie’s world is a far cry from Edison, Texas, where the most stylish thing would be Lena Harm’s blue-rinse perm she gives to all the ladies over fifty.
“I’m a man of hidden talents,” I parry.
Astor arches her eyebrows and then pushes me out of the way. “Birdie, I’ve been thinking, and this whole thing”—she gestures around the room—“isn’t for me. I don’t fit into the world of high fashion. I’ve worn cowboy boots for as long as I can remember, and if my shirt doesn’t have snaps, I don’t think I’d know how to put it on.”
“I like snap shirts,” I volunteer. Easy to take off. Like all shirts should be snap front, in my opinion.
“Honey, you don’t have to dress yourself. That’s what I’m here for and what the stylist team is for. You just have to stand and look at the camera and then walk down a runway in some heels. I know you can do that.”
“Heels?” A gray cast washes over Astor’s face.
“Your boots are heeled,” Birdie points out.
“Yeah, but these are two inches wide. Yours are a centimeter wide.” Astor points downward at Birdie’s pink stilettos. My mind takes a detour to Astor wearing nothing but one of her plaid snap shirts and a pair of stilettos. It’s a good image. The best, really. Nothing Birdie can come up with could top it.
“You’ll be fine. It’s like riding a horse. All it takes is a little practice. Come over here, and we’ll start dressing you. We’re going to fit you first and then talk hair and makeup. I’m going soft glam, dreamy, an Alice in Wonderland sort of look.” Birdie pulls a reluctant Astor across the room next to a worktable filled with silks and cashmere and lace. The room looks like a flower garden. I take a seat and settle in for the show.
“You can’t look. Turn your chair and face the wall.” Astor scowls.
“He’s looking.” I point to the male stylist, who is holding up a shirt.
“I’m gay.”
As if that means anything. “You still got a dick and balls, don’t you?”
“Cane Justice.” Birdie’s voice is getting shrill.
“Actually, can I take a break?” Astor inserts. “I know I just got here, but I’m suddenly having second and third thoughts.”
“You are going to do great, but sure. Take all the time you need.” Birdie nods to her assistant, who sets the shirt down on the table with a small sigh.
Astor gives us all a tight smile.
“Let’s go to the barn.” I hold out my hand. She doesn’t take it but nods instead. The barn is a familiar place for her.
We walk across the lawn, the sun baking down on our heads, our arms swinging close together.
“I need the money,” she says suddenly. “The farm is struggling. Dad made a bad investment in some strip mall property in Fort Worth. The real estate agent who sold it promised that there was going to be tons of traffic, but the buildings have sat empty for months now with no lessees. We’re going to need to sell it, but it’ll be at a big loss. Even if I sold all of our stock, we’d not be able to cover the debt. This modeling fee will help us breathe for a few months, and Birdie said it might lead to other opportunities.”
“Astor, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. If you want to model, I’ll support you. I’ll seethe with jealousy, but I’ll support you.”
She stops at the fence line overlooking the paddock where we exercise the horses. My trainer has one of our new buys circling the ring. Astor’s eyes glow with fondness. She loves her horses.
I want to take her away from the ugliness of her home, set her up here at the Justice ranch. She’s so good with the animals. We could probably train twice as many if she was in charge.
“Come live with me,” I urge quietly.
A twisted smile stretches across her mouth. “I can’t, and you know it. You broke my heart all those years ago when you believed that dumb curse and now my dad is in his state. I can’t abandon him. He’s angry and ornery, but my mom loved him, and she’d cry buckets if she saw me give up on him.”
“Let me try to make amends then. Explain to him what happened and how I never meant for that horse to get into his hands.”