Inside Out by Grayson Cole Page A

“For example, before I got on the phone, I was sitting here playing poker.”
    â€œOh, really? And what do you think I was doin’?”
    â€œCheating.”
    Not born with any shame, Rett winked at her.

Chapter 8
    Tracey stood for at least twenty minutes in front of the mirror in her bedroom. She wasn’t used to this. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had actually gone to a party. Just getting dressed was taking forever. She didn’t know what was appropriate. Jeans and a nice shirt? Slacks? Her tea-length dress with silver threads shooting through it? Who knew? Finally, she had to get on the phone and call Moni to ask what she was wearing.
    â€œA little black dress.” There went Tracey’s standby. “What are you wearing?”
    â€œI don’t know. I can’t find anything.”
    â€œI’ve seen your closet, honey. There’s something up in there you can wear.”
    â€œI don’t know, I just can’t decide on what style I want.”
    â€œWell, I say wear something tasteful and sexy. It’s gonna be some family and some friends, professional types, but everybody’s real down to earth.”
    â€œIf that’s the case, I should wear some shorts and flip-flops.”
    â€œI won’t let you in my house. It’s dressy. Not formal, but dressy.” With that she hung up the phone.
    Tracey finally decided on an apple green, short-sleeved dress. The neckline scooped softly. It was long and fitted, but flowed around her whenever she turned. There was a calf-length green and violet cover over it. The ensemble, clearly Indian-influenced, had been a gift from her mother. She hadn’t worn it yet. But God, it was pretty, and Tracey felt pretty in it. She donned some authentic Indian gold jewelry and parted her hair down the middle before slicking it back. She rolled her thick ponytail into a bun. With soft violet makeup, she almost looked like an Indian woman. Tracey smiled, and amended her thought: a very dark Indian woman.
    She stared at herself, remembering her mother saying all the time when Tracey was a child that she was going to be a beautiful woman when she grew up. Tracey didn’t know about beautiful, but that night, at least, she was almost there. Her eyes, dark brown, were wide-set and slightly slanted, her nose long and narrow like her mother’s. Her lips were full, like her father’s. Her cheekbones were high, which came from both sides of the family. Yes, she was fairly pleased with the way she looked, but she would never say beautiful.
    Tracey was satisfied with her body. She wasn’t fat, but she was no supermodel, either. She touched her tummy. It wasn’t flat but slightly rounded. Her hips—her mother’s hips—flared from her narrow waist. Good birthing hips, her grandmother would have called them. Her legs were long; those came from her father, and were well muscled from years of ballet. She had her mother to thank for her heavy bosom. On this night, all that was working for her. She really did look good, but even that was making her nervous.
    Tracey grabbed her keys before she decided not to go at all and headed toward the front door. When she opened it, there was Garrett.
    â€œYou’re going out?” He didn’t even try to hide his disappointment.
    â€œJust to a party my friend from the center’s throwing. It’s her anniversary.”
    â€œOh, that’s right.”
    â€œYeah, I helped her get everything ready earlier. So what have you been up to today?”
    â€œNot much. Just studying some. I was planning to get some more done tonight anyway.”
    He hadn’t mentioned it, but she should have known he would come by. For a moment, she considered calling Moni. That was ridiculous. “Look, I don’t think it’s going to last that long. Probably no later than midnight. In fact, I’m sure I’ll be home by midnight. If you want to