Read Online Killer Closet Case: a Danger Cove B&B Mystery (Danger Cove Mysteries Book 6) by Elizabeth Ashby, T. Sue VerSteeg - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Ashby, T. Sue VerSteeg
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self-appointed bodyguard is done. Let's go get us an endorphin rush."
The late afternoon sun cut through the crisp air as we jogged our way along the sidewalk of Cliffside Drive, wound down and jumped the trolley tracks on Main, wove through the crowd of people heading to the pier, then went back up the road until we made it to the other side of the cove. Two Mile Beach was spread out before us. The sand was dotted with beach chairs, huge colorful umbrellas, and people loading up their picnicking gear for the day before the sun set. We both jogged in place in front of the old lighthouse, taking our pulse rate and admiring the view. It had been a while since I'd actually jogged, so there were a few times I'd had to push through the feeling of grabbing a seat and waiting for Cris to circle back. Instead, I kept up with the neon-yellow yoga outfit I was following. At least there was no way to lose Cris in an ensemble like that. I was a bit more conservative in my gray sweatpants and blue Nike T-shirt.
Even our running clothes told the story of how different Cris and I were. She wasn't comfortable without full makeup and hair. I was a wash-and-go kind of girl. She had to keep up on the latest fashion trends. I loved to shop thrift stores and add to my T-shirt collection. Sure, I dressed up when the occasion called for it, but Cris had to be on death's door to dress down.
Cris bumped a hip into mine. "Penny for your thoughts."
"Inflation demands at least a dollar, but since you were pretty badass on the reporter back there, it's free today," I huffed playfully. I stared out over the shimmering ocean. "I was just thinking about how different we are. It's amazing we've stuck it out as friends."
She sat on a flat rock just under the lighthouse, gazing out at the setting sun. "That's probably why we're still friends." Looking over her shoulder, she patted the flat stone space next to her. As I joined her, she continued, "I know I'm high maintenance and a bitch at times, but it takes someone like you to keep me grounded. I didn't realize I needed that until I met you, someone who operates in the real world who's kind of normal and stuff. You're not caught up in the void that models and actresses pretend is real. Know what I mean?"
"That you need good ole plain-Jane me to see how the other half lives?" I asked, kind of put off.
Cris swatted my arm. "No, silly. There's nothing plain about you. You have all kinds of natural beauty that most of the girls I know would kill for, me included. Plus, you've got all sorts of stuff going on inside too, like being supersmart and stuff. You're too good for the kind of life I lead." She scooted sideways to face me. "Do you think I like doing all of this every day?" She paused and circled her face a few times with her fingers, then flipped her perfectly curled ponytail. "When you dress up a blonde with big boobs like me, no one cares what's inside, at least until I met you. You actually do care. It sucks that I'm like this, but it's who I am and the modeling world I work in. It pays the bills." She shook her head. "Or, at least it used to."
I stared into her eyes, so sincere and real. She had a very valid point. Most guys looked at her and all they wanted were superficial things. To be seen with her, to show her off to their friends, to disappear into her room and do all that stuff too. I'd seen it time and again. The other girls we hung out with were doing pretty much the same thing—only no trips into her room that I knew of. They wanted to be friends with what Cris could do for them, not her as a person. I had to admit, when I'd first met her, I'd felt the same way. It took some time peeking behind the curtain, so to speak, before I saw the real woman, the woman who actually ate ice cream with me. Sort of. The woman who now always had my back, no questions asked, and vice versa.
She nudged me with her elbow, a bright smile on her face. "Believe it or not, I'm not using nearly as much
The late afternoon sun cut through the crisp air as we jogged our way along the sidewalk of Cliffside Drive, wound down and jumped the trolley tracks on Main, wove through the crowd of people heading to the pier, then went back up the road until we made it to the other side of the cove. Two Mile Beach was spread out before us. The sand was dotted with beach chairs, huge colorful umbrellas, and people loading up their picnicking gear for the day before the sun set. We both jogged in place in front of the old lighthouse, taking our pulse rate and admiring the view. It had been a while since I'd actually jogged, so there were a few times I'd had to push through the feeling of grabbing a seat and waiting for Cris to circle back. Instead, I kept up with the neon-yellow yoga outfit I was following. At least there was no way to lose Cris in an ensemble like that. I was a bit more conservative in my gray sweatpants and blue Nike T-shirt.
Even our running clothes told the story of how different Cris and I were. She wasn't comfortable without full makeup and hair. I was a wash-and-go kind of girl. She had to keep up on the latest fashion trends. I loved to shop thrift stores and add to my T-shirt collection. Sure, I dressed up when the occasion called for it, but Cris had to be on death's door to dress down.
Cris bumped a hip into mine. "Penny for your thoughts."
"Inflation demands at least a dollar, but since you were pretty badass on the reporter back there, it's free today," I huffed playfully. I stared out over the shimmering ocean. "I was just thinking about how different we are. It's amazing we've stuck it out as friends."
She sat on a flat rock just under the lighthouse, gazing out at the setting sun. "That's probably why we're still friends." Looking over her shoulder, she patted the flat stone space next to her. As I joined her, she continued, "I know I'm high maintenance and a bitch at times, but it takes someone like you to keep me grounded. I didn't realize I needed that until I met you, someone who operates in the real world who's kind of normal and stuff. You're not caught up in the void that models and actresses pretend is real. Know what I mean?"
"That you need good ole plain-Jane me to see how the other half lives?" I asked, kind of put off.
Cris swatted my arm. "No, silly. There's nothing plain about you. You have all kinds of natural beauty that most of the girls I know would kill for, me included. Plus, you've got all sorts of stuff going on inside too, like being supersmart and stuff. You're too good for the kind of life I lead." She scooted sideways to face me. "Do you think I like doing all of this every day?" She paused and circled her face a few times with her fingers, then flipped her perfectly curled ponytail. "When you dress up a blonde with big boobs like me, no one cares what's inside, at least until I met you. You actually do care. It sucks that I'm like this, but it's who I am and the modeling world I work in. It pays the bills." She shook her head. "Or, at least it used to."
I stared into her eyes, so sincere and real. She had a very valid point. Most guys looked at her and all they wanted were superficial things. To be seen with her, to show her off to their friends, to disappear into her room and do all that stuff too. I'd seen it time and again. The other girls we hung out with were doing pretty much the same thing—only no trips into her room that I knew of. They wanted to be friends with what Cris could do for them, not her as a person. I had to admit, when I'd first met her, I'd felt the same way. It took some time peeking behind the curtain, so to speak, before I saw the real woman, the woman who actually ate ice cream with me. Sort of. The woman who now always had my back, no questions asked, and vice versa.
She nudged me with her elbow, a bright smile on her face. "Believe it or not, I'm not using nearly as much
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