In Cahoots with the Prickly Pear Posse (A Jackrabbit Junction Mystery--Book 5)

me that you’re dressing to impress again these days, like you used to do for Lyle and his good-for-nothing friends.”
“Maybe I like to wear fancy dresses and heels.”
“You can’t snow the snowman.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Yes, you do.”
Ronnie sighed. “You don’t get it. I’m tired of feeling like a piece of trash that Lyle wadded up and flushed down the toilet.”
“Newsflash—if you feel that way, fancy clothing isn’t going to fix anything. Take it from a girl who’s tried to be someone she’s not with each dickhead who has come along. If there’s one thing this sabbatical from men has taught me, it’s that the only way I can be happy is to be myself both inside and out. If a guy doesn’t like what he sees here,” she said, circling her hand in front of her, “then I don’t need him in my life, sexy gray eyes or not.”
“Gray eyes? That’s not a very random eye color to throw out in conversation.”
“Or blue or green. Whatever. My point is if Grady doesn’t like you in jeans and boots, then screw him.”
“I am screwing him. That’s what got me into this mess.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Natalie flopped back onto her pillow. “Everyone is having sex but me, even my crabby aunt. Rub it in.”
“So, what do you suggest? I tell Grady that his ex wants him back?”
“Sure. He needs to know about her big plans since he’s the prize.”
Ronnie fingered the hem of her dress. “What if he likes the sound of that?”
“Then he can go blow a goat for all you care, right?” When Ronnie didn’t agree, Natalie poked her in the hip with her big toe. “If Grady wants his ex back, you’re history. No amount of red lipstick, pretty dresses, or hot sex will change his mind.”
“Oddly enough, you’re not making me feel any better.”
“Wouldn’t it be good to know the truth rather than to keep playing this game with yourself?”
“Maybe. Probably. Yeah.”
Natalie grinned. “I mean, look how well pretending to be someone you’re not worked out for you with Lyle. ”
“You’re a brat.” Ronnie grabbed a pillow and whopped Natalie with it. “I take it back, you’re not my favorite cousin.”
“I told you before, you can’t snow the snowman.”
Ronnie stood and stretched. “I need to get dressed. I told Ruby I’d cover for her at the General Store this morning while she runs errands in Yuccaville.”
“Are you going to stretch first? Do some yoga?”
“No, I’m good. I did several yoga poses last night in Grady’s bed. He really knows how to work out my kinks.”
“Boo! Get out!” Natalie threw the pillow at Ronnie as she ran into the bedroom.
Fifteen minutes later, dressed in her favorite jeans and comfy cardigan sweater, Ronnie pushed open the General Store’s door. The air smelled like bacon and eggs—Mac’s favorite breakfast. Ruby must be up and spoiling her nephew already this morning.
Behind the store’s counter, Claire sat next to the register, frowning down at a piece of paper. Her hair was damp on the ends and wavy, probably finger-combed, knowing Claire. Ronnie caught a whiff of her watermelon shampoo over the store’s usual old varnish smell. Paint stains dotted her blue South Dakota Jackrabbits’ hoodie.
“What are you looking at?” Ronnie asked as she walked over to the snack aisle and grabbed a protein bar.
“Reservations for next week.”
Ronnie put the bar down on the counter next to the list, looking at the names upside down. “That’s a lot of campers.”
Claire’s frown deepened to a full-on scowl. “I know.”
“What’s with the sour face? This is a good thing for Ruby and the RV park.”
“Depends on your point of view and whether or not you’re waiting to be showered with bullets some afternoon while walking out of the tool shed.”
“You must have had an extra helping of paranoia for breakfast this morning.”
“Kiss my paranoid ass.” She pointed at the paper. “See these two names I’ve circled?” At Ronnie’s nod, Claire continued, “The names they’ve given for the reservation don’t match up with what I’ve found in the online white pages.”
She held up the new cell phone their dad had bought her for Christmas. He’d given one to Ronnie as well, including coverage for both of them on his family plan, which made their mother’s teeth grind. Katie already had a phone, so he gave her cash instead to help cover the cost of a new pregnancy wardrobe.
“What do you mean the names don’t match up?” Ronnie asked. “Are you running some sort of background check on these people?”
“Yeah, and you don’t need to get all huffy about it. I’m trying to keep the two of us breathing.”
“I know, but it sort of seems like an invasion of their privacy.” She leaned over the counter and stuffed the money for the protein bar in the register drawer.
“It’s not like I’m scanning their phone records, cheezewhiz. I’m just confirming they are who they say they are and that one of them isn’t some cold-blooded murderer hiding behind a fake identity.”
Ronnie took a second look at the names Claire had circled. One had listed a home address of Minnesota and the other as Wyoming. Both gave only PO boxes, no street addresses.
“You could check their photo ID when they get here.”
“They might have fake IDs.”
“If you’re really worried,” Ronnie said around a bite of chocolate and peanut butter, “I could ask Grady if he’d be willing to run their plates. Given our current up-shit-creek location, he’d probably be happy to help.”
“I don’t want to involve the cops any more than we have to. Old Dick Webber is right. Once the law sits on your couch and takes off their shoes, there’s no kicking them out of your house.”
Ronnie glared at Claire. “Grady is not just any cop.”
“I know. He’s the damned sheriff.” Claire lowered the paper, giving Ronnie a once-over. “I saw his pickup out front this morning.”
“So? He dropped me off on the way to work.”
“Jackrabbit Junction is like twenty miles out of his way to