Free Starlight (Peaches Monroe) (Volume 2) Paperback – September 2, 2013 by Mimi Strong

of clothes, many of them flattering wrap style dresses. The prices were a little YIKES, but Guy took a shine to me and said if I bought one, he’d give me three more. I bought two dresses, and he kept stuffing more things into the bags until I begged him to stop. Keith tried to pay for everything, but I wouldn’t allow it, saying he was doing more than enough by giving me somewhere to stay and being my personal tour guide.
    I walked out of the boutique feeling like I was in a fairy tale. Specifically, I felt like the side character who somehow cons her way into getting the makeover and goodies that were supposed to be for the main character, the skinny, big-lipped girl who weighs under a hundred pounds, in shoes.
    With my shopping loot on one arm and my underwear model on the other arm, I wondered if there wasn’t an Anne Hathaway type somewhere wondering where her life-swag went.
    When we got back to the van, Keith gave me a knowing look, like he knew I was having the best date ever, and he didn’t need to ask. He looked so smug. Why is smug so sexy? I swear, it’s like catnip for Miss Kitty when a cute guy looks so self-satisfied.
    “Off to the second and best part,” he said. “Why don’t you change into one of those dresses?”
    “Sure, I’ll just flash all of California with my body and get changed right here in the van.”
    “They’re going to see everything on billboards soon enough.”
    My voice small and squeaky, I said, “Billboards?” Had there been billboards in the agreement? Classic smart-girl move: I had my father read the modeling contract and didn’t pay that much attention. So much whimsy.
    I muttered something about horses and barn doors, then wrestled out of my clothes quickly, while we drove along a quieter street. I slid into one of my new wrap dresses, a purple creation with leopard-print highlight details. The combination of purple and leopard-print sounds tacky, but I assure you, the dress was pure class. The knock-off version sold at K-Mart would have been tacky, but this was the original. A designer original, by Guy Weird-last-name.*
    *Not his actual name. I’d happily give him full credit, if the logo on the labels wasn’t indistinguishable swirls.
    For the next stop, we drove out of the city.
    Keith could go ahead and look smug, because I was having a good time.
    “How do you feel about gardening?” he asked.
    “I’ve got a few potted plants, but sometimes I can’t tell weeds from plants.”
    “I meant today.”
    As the van pulled into the parking lot of a garden with an admission gate, I glanced back at the bags of dirt in the van and said, “You’re kidding me. We’re here on a landscaping job?”
    He jumped out of the van and opened the back door instead of coming around to my side.
    I wandered back with a confused scowl on my face.
    “Catch.” He tossed a plastic bag of potting soil at me.
    “I’m wearing a dress,” I wailed as I caught the bag. “I’ll help you plant some daisies or whatever, but let me get changed!”
    With a bag of dirt on his shoulder, he stepped up to me and leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Follow my lead. We’re about to skip the long admission line.”
    I looked behind him, at the chain of people snaking from the entry and through the parking lot.
    “You’re a bad boy,” I whispered back.
    “You should have taken Mitchell’s warning.” He gave me a peck on the lips, then turned and started walking confidently toward the entrance.
    Why do I always get myself into these predicaments? I stared after his adorable butt, which was so cute. How cute was his butt, Peaches? Cuter than a basket of baby bunnies at a carrot buffet.
    I followed Mr. Cute Buns in, and was not at all surprised to be waved through by friendly, yet not-that-bright staff. To save someone a reprimand, I’m not going to name the park, and to keep you all from hating Keith Raven for the wrong reasons, I have to let you know he made a generous cash donation to the