The crew nodded and scampered back to their stalls while I sat, defeated.
Madam Alana turned back to me. “This is your one and only warning. Do not make me a fool for being merciful.”
“I won’t. I promise. I’ll be quiet as a mouse from here on out.” I made a cross sign over my heart with my finger.
She pursed her lips. “Somehow, I find that hard to believe. Carry on, Ms. McAllister. Your stylist awaits.”
I could only imagine what would happen when I stood in front of the stylist. I didn’t do normal girl attire. I owned two dresses, and they had both been my mother’s. With caution, I eased off the table and waddled away as my lady bits screamed in renewed pain.
“Try not to hit anyone on your way out,” Savannah chirped as I passed by her stall.
I showed her my teeth. “Sisters don’t count.”
“I’d beg to differ.” Savannah grinned and then howled in pain as her attendant ripped off one side of her bikini line.
“That’s what you get!”
“Good luck with your fitting and styling. I just know you’ve been waiting all day for this part,” Savannah teased.
“I hate you,” I growled as I made my way toward the exit.
“Hate and love are a fine line, sister. Remember that. One balances the other out.” Savannah was such a new-age, positive beacon type of light to my dreary, dim bulb. The man she got had better worship the ground she walked on or he’d be dealing with me.
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough. Good luck with the ass ripping!” I offered, not able to hold back the snark.
“Ass ripping?” She blinked prettily, her blue eyes going round as I grinned while her attendant pulled the piece of wax from her anus. My baby sister shrieked.
I left the room laughing. “Ah, now I feel better.” I smiled as I made my way toward hell, otherwise known as the styling department.
Episode 8
A Promise Shattered
SAVANNAH
“Oooh Lord.” I waddled out of the waxing room, grateful to finally be out of there. My brows, upper lip, underarms, bikini line, and my booty boo blazed like a scalding branding iron had been pressed into my sensitive skin. Now I knew what the cattle back home on the ranch experienced. Poor things. Once I made my way back home, I’d talk to Jarod and change that practice.
Jarod.
An intense wave of sadness wafted over me, and I pressed my hand to the hallway wall to hold myself up.
I missed him.
Missed in the way you longed for a person after they’d passed. But my beloved Jarod wasn’t dead. He was back on my family’s farm working to keep it afloat while I auctioned myself off to a wealthy man. I tried to keep in mind that I was doing the same thing. Keeping the farm from going under and into the hands of those no-good Goodalls. Still, I’d hurt Jarod so deeply he’d never forgive me. Breaking it off with him was the hardest thing I’d had to do in my entire life.
We were going to get married. That’s what the plan had been. A year from now when I finished my bachelor’s degree.
I lifted my hand and wrapped my fingers around the simple white gold band that had a speck of a diamond on it. I wore that ring on a slim chain around my neck.
A promise.
It was all Jarod could afford back when he was nineteen, working full time at the ranch, helping to pay the bills at his parents’ place while saving up to get us our own home when I got out of school.
I fingered the promise ring and remembered when he gave it to me two years ago. I’d already graduated high school, turned eighteen, and was set to go to college the very next day. We’d had a beautiful summer together working side by side on the ranch, sharing meals, spending time at the watering hole. But that night he was different. Charged. Determined. And it was sexy as hell.
We’d taken a pair of horses out on my family’s land to what we called “our spot.” It was at least a fifteen-minute ride by horse to a small babbling brook that some of the cattle drank from as they roamed.
Jarod helped me off my horse and took my hand, leading me to a blanket that was hidden deep in the tree line, closed off from the open expanse of land. The trees acted like a canopy, shading the area and hiding the spot from any onlookers who may have passed by. The sun was heading toward the horizon but was still an hour away from setting. Jarod led me by the hand to the spot where the softest part of a grassy patch held a red plaid blanket I knew from experience had come directly off his bed at his house. We’d had many fooling around sessions on that very comforter, and just seeing it made my cheeks heat with excitement and anticipation.