A Little Like Destiny (Robin & Tyler #3) by Cheyanne Young

Author:Cheyanne Young [Young, Cheyanne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00N23JXDC
Publisher: 336Love
Published: 2014-09-01T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

“Hey, Aunt Robin,” Miranda calls out from the hallway. I barely hear her over the scary Halloween soundtrack she downloaded onto her mp3 player and has been blasting through the house to celebrate the holiday.

“Yeah?” I mumble back while peering into my makeup mirror as my hand draws on a thick line of eyeliner.

“I need you to stop obsessing over your looks for one second and look at me.”

I cap the eyeliner and give her an annoyed look. Only, I can only glare at her head as it pokes into my doorway from the hall. “I’m not obsessing over my looks,” I grumble.

She lifts one eyebrow. “Really? You’re gonna deny it? Whatever, look I need your advice.”

“What advice is that?”

She steps forward. “How do I look? Stupid? Do I look stupid?”

My mouth falls open. She’s wearing a beat up pair of jeans, Converse, and a gray skirt on top of the jeans. The orange and white striped shirt she had ordered online protrudes over her belly and the whole thing is topped off with a black leather jacket she borrowed from my closet. I close my mouth and smile. “You look really awesome. Exactly like Juno, right down to the smartass expression on your face.”

She rolls her eyes. “I just don’t want to look stupid.”

“Now who’s obsessing over their looks?” I mock, shooing her away with my hand. “Let me finish getting dressed so we won’t be late.”

She leans against the door frame, eyeing me as I grab a brand new tube of bright red lipstick. “Who are you supposed to be? A sexy janitor?”

“Seriously?” I mumble through drawing the lipstick across my upper lip. “You can’t tell that I’m Rosie the Riveter?”

Her brows wrinkle. “Who?”

“Wow, you have some American History learning to do.” I cap the lipstick and stare at my reflection in the mirror. Yeah, the makeup is a bit much. I did an entire face full—foundation, powder, that spray stuff that’s supposed to keep your makeup on all night, and overdone blush so my cheeks would be overly rosy like the posters. My dirty blonde hair is piled on top of my head in a bun with my bangs in a slight poofy bouffant. “Hand me that handkerchief?” I ask my niece, just to give her something to do besides gawk at me like I’m some kind of weirdo who makes up fictional characters to impersonate on Halloween.

I tie the red handkerchief around my hair, knotting it up top and pinning it in place with a few bobby pins. I roll up the sleeves of my thrift store work jumper to my elbows and, once again, look into the mirror.

My clothes are a little baggy and show absolutely no sexiness. But my makeup is drop dead awesome. I know it goes against everything I would normally believe in, but tonight I don’t want to be as hot as possible. I want to be normal Robin Carter. Wearing a normal, non slutty Halloween costume. I want to be able to be taken seriously.

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