Page 94 of Prime Time Romance

“Got it,” I tell Poppy. “BFFs. Forever.”

Poppy smiles, throwing her arms around me. “Love you, babe!” When she pulls away, she lowers her voice. “Okay, so the other reason I called you over here is to give you this.” She drags me into a dressing room, where there is a rolling rack with a single suit bag hanging from it. She unzips it slowly, revealing a floor-length gown in a deep midnight blue.

“I think you should wear this as your evening wear,” she says as I pull the gown fully out of the bag.

It’s a simple strapless mermaid silhouette. The material has tiny crystals sewn in that shimmer with any movement.

“You wore this when you won,” I tell her, touched by her thoughtfulness.

“Exactly,” she confirms. “It’s a miracle dress. It sucks you in at all the right places.” She pokes the soft folds of my stomach with her finger. “And it does a decent job of lifting the girls, but I strongly suggest you get a push-up bra. And maybe skip dinner tonight? You’re broader than I am, and you don’t want to look stuffed into the thing.” She smiles, squeezing my arm. “It’s amazing, right? It will look perfect with the crown.”

“It’s beautiful.” I nod, placing the gown back on the rack.

“Well, it’s made for a queen.” She lowers her voice. “But a true queen needs to look the part even when she’s not out on that stage. You know? Dress for the job you want and all?” She gestures to my disheveled hair and wrinkled dress from yesterday. “Maybe you should go home? Freshen up a bit? Then you can come back more like that picture-perfect girl we all love.”

She gives me an air kiss and heads back onto the stage.

I attempt and fail to smooth the creases from my outfit. Poppy was not wrong in her assessment that I could definitely use a shower and some clothes that aren’t from yesterday. The pageant practice breaks for lunch, and I slip out the front door of the town hall, heading down Main Street toward Sloan’s house. I pass the docks and beach. Both are so serenely picturesque that had last night not been imprinted so firmly on my memories, I could probably convince myself that it never even happened.

It was one of the worst and then best nights of my life.

My heart hurts from all of the emotional whiplash.

I still ache now, knowing that there’s only going to be more.

I’ve made a deal with the metaphorical and potentially even literal devil, but that deal is going to give Josh his dream.

My walk-and-sulk is interrupted as Bob the mailman steps into my path. “Morning, Sloan.” He tips his imaginary hat. “Lovely day for a walk, isn’t it?”

I nod and smile as we do that weird dance where we both step to the left and then to the right, still blocking each other’s path until I concede and cross the street.

As I hit the sidewalk, the grocer steps out from behind a giant pile of oranges. “Hi, Sloan,” he calls as the spray from his hose forces me back into the street.

“Hey, Sloan!” Two small children circle around me on their bikes.

“Morning, Sloan.”

“Howdy, Sloan.”

“There’s our girl.”

My stomach clenches into a tight knot.

This town is getting friendly, but this is next-level, start-of-a-horror-film weird.

I look around, suddenly more aware of my surroundings.

There are what feels like an abnormal number of people spanning this block. All outside. All sneaking glances at me and smiling.

My senses tingle with a warning. Something is up.

I reverse directions and head toward the shore, thinking the beach may be less populated. However, Doc Martin is blocking my path.

“Not that way, little lady.” Doc physically turns me by the shoulders, then steers me back into the middle of the street and over to a folding chair, where I’m forced to sit.

I look around at the sea of faces watching me, watching them, and unease grips my chest.

My thoughts are startled by a sound: a blaring of trumpets that make my blood curdle. The sound builds, becoming louder and louder as the pieces of exactly what is happening fall into place.