A Rip Roaring Good Time Read Online Free PDF

it's going to be a rip roaring good time. It'll be a night your daughter will never forget."
    Little did I know at that moment my statement could not have been any more spot on.

Chapter 4

    The coffee I'd ingested before hitting the sack had me tossing and turning all night. Wendy had warned me about Lexie's caffeine addiction. I realized then that if I drank a cup of her robust brew every time she offered me one, I'd down enough of the powerful stimulant to keep a small village awake for a week. I vowed to increase my water intake while I was at the Alexandria Inn instead of my coffee consumption.
    Listening to Rip snoring contentedly as he relaxed in a deep sleep next to me made me want to kick him in the shin, or pull the pillow out from under his head. Misery loved company and I wanted that company to be as wide-awake as I was. I squashed my temptation and didn't disturb him, however. He had driven the entire way from Cheyenne while I worked on a wooden figurine I was carving into the shape of a goat. I had wanted to finish it in time to give it to Wendy as a birthday gift.
    Wendy had showed me a photo of an ornery goat that lived on her boyfriend, Andy's, farm. She'd told me some humorous anecdotes about the temperamental critter she referred to as Precious. It had given me the idea to carve a replica of the animal to give her for her birthday instead of wasting money on something she already had or didn't want. As a young girl, I had learned to whittle and carve wood from my pappy, who could while away an entire afternoon turning a small log into a toothpick. It beat the hell out of working, he used to tell me.
    With four older brothers, I leaned toward being a tomboy, so they'd let me go with them when they went to town to look for small jobs, or to talk strangers into giving them enough change to buy chewing tobacco. I tried some of the Beechnut they'd talked an old farmer out of one day. Not only did it taste like Wintergreen gum dipped in cow manure to me, it also had me puking my guts up for the rest of the day. After that, I didn't try quite as hard to be like one of the boys.
    I was pappy's only daughter and he called me his little princess, even though instead of fancy dresses, I usually wore stained hand-me-down britches and tattered shirts my brothers had outgrown. But I stuck to pappy like a stamp and learned a lot of time-wasting skills from him.
    Reminiscing about my childhood helped me to finally doze off around three and sleep fitfully until six. While I was clearing the cobwebs out of my mind, I decided I'd pull out something more appropriate to wear to the party that evening, but for now, I'd just slip on some old holey jeans and an aquamarine shirt with a sunflower on it. The jeans had come back into style. Even though the holes in my jeans were from wear and tear, I'd seen a pair just like them on a rack at Penney's for sixty-five bucks. The shirt, which I'd found at a garage sale for a quarter, had inspired me to paint our travel trailer in a similar design.
    I think the old mechanic at Boney's garage had been impressed with our paint job too. I'd seen the younger fellow point at the trailer when we pulled into the station, and say something to him. Paul had responded with a huge smile and nodded in agreement. I knew when I'd talked Rip into painting it that it'd be a big hit. And to think, Rip had thought it would look ridiculous.
    * * *
    I reluctantly rolled out of bed to get ready for the day. Fifteen minutes later I had dressed, put my teeth back in after having let them soak in a glass jar on the bathroom counter all night, and pulled a comb through my naturally wavy salt and pepper hair. My hair looked just a touch saltier with each day that passed, and I'm not sure what it says about my character, but I really didn't give a rat's ass if it turned the color of a field mouse overnight—no pun intended.
    I set Rip's hearing aids on the counter so he wouldn't forget to wear them while we were