Page 27 of Breaking All The Rules
Bea had always marveled at people who could have normal interactions after a sexual interlude. She’d never quite mastered that trick. Advertising was a small world, and it always felt awkward knowing that someone sitting across the table or at an industry party knew intimate things about her. That she knew intimate things about them.
And Credence was waaaay smaller.
His jaw tightened. “Beatrice, I might be twenty-five, but I’m a big boy. I can deal.” Then he sighed, a slow smile ironing out the tension. “However…your wish is my command. Just know that the offer is always open.”
Bea laughed. “Thank you. I’ll keep it up my sleeve.”
Like she was going to think about anything else.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The next morning, after getting up late, Bea ventured out properly into Credence for the first time—not as a means to go to Annie’s, although she was certainly going to finish up there, but as a getting-to-know-you walking tour. She actually made an effort to get dressed this time, too. If donning a bra and brushing her hair for the second day in a row could be counted as effort. She wasn’t up to surrendering her sweats yet, but they were clean and she was wearing a clean shirt and a pair of Skechers on her feet.
First stop was downstairs at Déjà Brew. “Hey, Bea,” Jenny greeted, and if she looked surprised to see the Credence newcomer out and about and not looking like a hobo, she was too polite to say so.
“Morning.” Bea smiled at the only other female she knew in Credence besides Annie. “Could I get a cappuccino to-go, please?” Bea wasn’t much for fancy coffee—she was more an herbal-tea drinker—but given Jenny had pretty much bailed her out of the pokey, it felt incumbent upon her to support Jenny’s business.
There were no other customers in the café, so they chatted while Jenny fixed the cappuccino. “You off somewhere?”
“Thought it was about time I showed my face around here.”
“Ah.” Jenny nodded and shot her a twinkly smile. “To deny reports of your disfigurement and premature death?”
“And subsequent mauling by my cats? Yes.”
Jenny laughed. “People will be relieved to see you’re alive and intact.”
“I’ll consider it an act of public service, then.” Jenny handed over the coffee and she took it. “But seriously, I just thought I’d have a look around and introduce myself to a few locals.”
She nodded approvingly. “They’d like that.”
Handing over the money, Bea smiled her thanks. “Wish me luck.”
“You won’t need it. Folks around here can be pretty nosy and in your business, but they love a new face and will be thrilled to finally meet the mystery woman. Even more so given you’ll be sticking around for a while.”
On that note, Bea took herself down the main street. It wasn’t exactly bustling. A lot of business premises were unused—either boarded up or displaying faded to-lease signs in their empty windows. But she did meet a few local people along the way, making a point of stopping to introduce herself. Jenny was right: she was greeted warmly, asked if she was okay after her public incident at Annie’s, and what her plans were.
Considering she didn’t even know the answer to that, Bea kept things suitably vague.
The health of her nonexistent cats was also a topic of much discussion. As well as advice about everything from the best spots by the lake to catch a fish to the best bench in the park to the best place to buy Halloween pumpkins. Although she wasn’t sure she was going to be here that long.
She was even invited to Wednesday night line-dancing classes at a bar called The Lumberjack. Seriously—line dancing?
It was a sign.
She’d just plucked that option out of the air when she’d been speaking to Austin, but clearly it was meant to be. She had a very good feeling about Credence. Like she and this town would go together like peanut butter and jelly.
Like perhaps she’d always been destined to spend some time here.
The best part of the morning, though, was stumbling upon Mirror Mirror. The very modern beauty salon with its feature wall of colorful mosaic tiles, Hollywood lights, and an actual glitter ball hanging from the ceiling looked out of place amid the faded desperation of the rest of the Credence main street.
The small swinging plaque on the inside of the door was just being flipped to closed when Bea decided Mirror Mirror was another sign. Her hair needed some serious work, and this place looked like just the ticket. A smiling woman with choppy dark hair, large chunks of which were dyed cotton-candy blue, opened the door.
Bea entered. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I can come back on Monday. Are you open then? Could I grab a card or maybe I could make an appointment now? As you can see, my hair is in dire need of service.”
The woman glanced at Bea’s hair and winced, leaving her in no doubt her hair had surpassed the need for service and required nothing less than a major overhaul. “I can do it for you now,” she offered in a strong Brooklyn accent.
Wow. It must be bad if it couldn’t wait two days. “Oh…but weren’t you closing?”
