Ready to Run (I Do, I Don't 1)

—

The second Jordan opened the box of clothes she’d just received from New York, she called Simon.

He answered on the first ring, already laughing. “Don’t be mad.”

“What. Is. This?” Jordan asked, picking up a denim skirt she’d never seen in her life—the likes of which nobody had seen in at least a decade.

“Okay, so you opened that box first. I was sort of hoping for that. The other two boxes are all your stuff, I swear.”

“Is this a tube top?” Jordan asked, aghast as she lifted a tiny bit of white fabric out of the box of unfamiliar items.

“Yes, but it has a lace top to go over it. Layers are in, babe.”

“Layers never went out,” Jordan countered. “Tube tops definitely did, though. In the eighties.”

Jordan glanced at the clock on the stove. Four o’clock. Close enough to wine o’clock.

She grabbed an open bottle of white from the fridge and poured a small glass for courage before she resumed unpacking the box.

“Do I even want to know what the thought was behind all this?”

“My thought was that you’re in Small Town, Montana, and none of your clothes are well suited.”

“Not true,” Jordan protested. “I’ve got a couple pair of jeans, and those are the universal language.”

“You have AG skinny jeans,” Simon countered. “Not Levi’s.”

“How do you even know the word Levi’s?”

“You forget that I’ve been to Lucky Hollow. Have you gotten to the boots yet?”

“The boo—” Jordan hurriedly dug to the bottom of the package, where, sure enough, two boot boxes were stacked.

“I’m guessing these aren’t a nice pair of this season’s over-the-knee suede lace-up boots?” Jordan said, lifting the shoe boxes onto her kitchen counter.

“Well—”

Jordan opened the first one and groaned. “Teal? Are. You. Kidding. Me?”

“I know. They’re killer. I couldn’t believe it when I saw them. I looked right at them and thought, Jordan needs them, and you’re welcome. Don’t worry, the second pair is more practical.”

She’d give her friend credit there, Jordan granted, as she warily opened the lid on the second box. As far as cowboy boots went, they were…cute. Really cute.

For that matter, so were the teal ones, they were just…teal.

“Do I even want to know how much I owe you for all this stuff I didn’t ask for?”

“On me,” Simon said. “This is a perk of having a fancy lawyer as your best friend.”

“What, that you can buy me turquoise cowboy boots and tube tops?”

“Have you tried them on yet?” Simon demanded. “I want pictures.”

Jordan pushed the boxes away and picked up her wine, taking it into the living room and plopping on her couch. “I guess I should be grateful you resisted the urge to get me a cowboy hat.”

“Only because I didn’t know your head size. And I figured Manhattan wasn’t the best place to buy one.”

“You think?”