Free Colorado 02 Sweet Dreams by Kristen Ashley Page B

that, it would make it hard to avoid him.
    I learned this because Tate was in the massive forecourt of the mechanics, standing by his Harley and talking to a man that was nearly as tall as him but older and softer with long gray hair pulled back in a ponytail and he sported a beer belly. The gray-haired man was wearing jeans, a black t-shirt and a black leather vest with a bunch of patches on it. Tate was wearing jeans, his boots and another tight, long-sleeved t-shirt, not a Henley this time and it was navy blue.
    I ignored Tate, parked, got out and started walking to the door with a sign over it that said “Office”.
    I had long since had a strict personal edict that there was never a time when you were allowed to look bad. Of course, when I was in denial that my marriage was collapsing and I was ignoring the signs, I started to put on weight but I never quit doing my hair and putting on at least light makeup and a decent outfit before going out anywhere, even if it was a quick stop at the grocery store. Then I overheard two friends talking, I confronted Brad with what I heard them say, he came clean about Hayley and that he wanted out and I spent two months eating everything that was edible and dragging around town like the sorry-ass Tate thought I was.
    One morning, I’d found I was out of coffeecake and since I ate half of one most mornings for breakfast, I got in my car in my pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt and went to the grocery store. I was on a mission for coffeecake but the minute I walked into the store I saw Brad, dressed in a suit and ready to go to the office, and Hayley, slim and perfect and wearing a fashionable, figure-skimming dress and high heels, all of this flashing toned legs and arms and her pert bottom. They were standing and waiting for drinks at the chain coffee booth at the front of the store. They looked perfect together and they were smiling at each other about something, clearly in their own little happy world bubble.
    And I was in my pajamas, I hadn’t washed my hair in three days and I knew I intended to go to work without doing my hair, putting on makeup or ironing my clothes.
    I didn’t get the coffeecake. I rushed back to my car, went home and took a shower, shaved my legs for the first time in forever, did my hair, ironed my clothes and made it to work with just seconds to spare.
    I also vowed never to let myself sink that low again. Not for losing my beautiful Brad to the perfect Hayley, not for anything.
    Unfortunately, I didn’t stop eating but at least it was something.
    That day, in Carnal, at the mechanics, even though it was my day off, I still put on a to-the-knee jeans skirt that was a muted shade of red, a red that was just a bit off rust and my mushroom-colored, knit top that was one of the few articles of clothing that I’d bought in semi-recent times (which was to say, over a year ago) that Brad commented on, telling me I looked good in it (before he led me to our bed and took it off). It fit well, even a bit tight, had an empire seam under my breasts, a shelf bra that worked wonders against gravity, a deep vee that exposed just above a hint of cleavage and it was sleeveless. I’d parted my hair to the side, plaited it in soft French braids down both sides and secured it at the back with a big, oval tortoiseshell clip. I’d put in medium-hoop silver earrings that had a row of red beads dangling from the bottom and a wide, stretchy bracelet that was also beaded in different shades of red and brown. I’d also put on my brown sandals that had a short, but cute, heel that I thought did wonders for my calves, crisscross thin straps at the toe and a matching wraparound strap at the ankle.
    I was lucky in one respect, I might be carrying extra weight but my legs and calves were impervious. Even slightly heavy, they were so well formed, they always looked good – this I got from my mother’s side of the family, bless her.
    I started toward the office and didn’t make it