Convincing Cara (Wishing Well, Texas Book 2) by Melanie Shawn Page A

live-in-the-moment, fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants, take-no-prisoners, no-regrets kinda gal.
    “Don’t apologize. You had food poisoning. It’s not your fault,” I assured her as I picked up the flowing, light-purple, empire-waist dress and held it up to me. Then I pivoted towards the oval, full-length mirror in the corner of my room.
    “I know. I just feel bad that you got stuck there with Trace.”
    Aha! There it is. This “apology” was a means to an end. A fishing expedition of sorts.
    “It was fine.” It was more than fine, but there was no way I was going to admit that to Harmony. Not only was she Trace’s sister, but she was like a bloodhound, and once she got on the trail of something she was relentless in pursuing it.
    I had actually managed to not think about him—or that I’d finally been the girl sitting next to Trace Briggs on Saturday night while watching the movie in the park—for the last ten minutes. Which was a record. Over the past few days, my mind had been on a constant loop of the moments, the looks, the conversation, and the innocent touches we’d shared.
    “I saw Lizzy in the Spoon, and she said that you and Trace were all over each other.” Harmony’s tone was not quite a resident of Accusation Town, but it was definitely on the border.
    “Lizzy’s a drama queen.” Inhaling slowly through my nose, I worked to maintain a neutral expression. It was harder than you might think. Just the mention of his name caused the nervous flutter in my stomach to amplify significantly.
    “True,” Harmony concurred. “Buuuuut, Mrs. Patterson who happened to be picking up a pie for her Bible study group, overheard our conversation, and eagerly backed up Lizzy’s claim. She even added that you two were ‘making lovey-dovey eyes’ at each other. Anything you’d like to share with the class?”
    Even in the small screen Harmony’s face was illuminated on, I could see her eyebrows rising in question. My heart started racing, and my palms were wetter than the back porch after a week of rain. But I didn’t dare let any of that show.
    There was only one way to deal with this. Sarcasm.
    “Yeah. Trace and I went at it like rabbits right in the middle of the park. I figured, since the entire town had been there for me, supporting me through my treatment, they deserved to see me lose my virginity. It’s really the least I could have done.” I picked up the coral dress, which was contestant number two, and tried to act as unfazed by this topic as possible.
    “Wow. Now I really am sorry I missed the show.”
    Harmony’s response led me to believe that the subject had been dropped. My relief was short-lived when her next inquiry shot more holes in that theory than Swiss cheese.
    “But, seriously. What’s the 411, hon? Obviously you gave them somethin’ to talk about.”
    All right, so sarcasm hadn’t worked. Next up: redirection.
    “You can’t mix your Mary J. Blige references with Bonnie Raitt,” I said. “You’re better than that.”
    “Umm, yes I can. Obviously. I just did it seamlessly, which shows how good I am. Now stop avoiding the question.”
    I could have made up some excuse and said that I had to go. Actually, it wouldn’t have been an excuse; I really did need to get ready. But, if I didn’t address this now, I was scared it was going to expand like a loaf of bread with too much yeast. The tiniest sliver of a story spread faster in this small town than the Road Runner on speed.
    Sitting on my bed, I picked the phone up so that it didn’t look like I was “avoiding” anything. “Trace just gave me a hug. That’s all. His timing just happened to be when Lizzy was trying to get his attention to tell him that she’d saved him a seat.”
    As much as I’d tried to keep my tone level, it had changed when I’d said Lizzy’s name. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the girl. She was fine. Nice, even. My one and only issue with her was that she’d spent the entire summer making a