“He makes lookin' good seem effortless. Like, he lives in that lookin'-good zone. I think I'll wear a long white gown and a short veil, and he and his groomsmen will wear sharp charcoal tuxedos. We'll get married on my farm and-"No, it's Ericka. She doesn't want to be called Ricki Jo anymore," I hear Mackenzie remind Laura.Oh,god. Wolf is looking right at me, wearing a lopsided, perfect, melt-me-into-a-pool-on-my-seat grin.”

“I lean up on my elbows and see Luke and Bessie,who trump both the stick and me as Bandit races toward them, Bessie already running in the opposite direction.She's got a good game of hard to get going on,and Mr. Needy Dog is suddenly all "Ricki Jo who?" (He can call me that-we have history.)”

“Well, I don't know," he starts, looking down and then up again, anywhere but at me. "Like, for example, your new clothes, it's like a whole new you. You dress more like those girls now.""I just want to look nice!" I defend myself."No,not that that's a bad thing, Ricki Jo!" he says, glancing down at me and then back over his shoulder. "You look great. Really pretty, actually.Just, you didn't care before and you were still"-he stammers on-"y-you know...pretty.”

“Ricki Jo," Momma says, "who's on the phone? Tell them it's past your bedtime."I cover the receiver and look over my shoulder at my folks. Right. 'Cause a ten o'clock bedtime is something I want to shout from the mountaintops.”

“(My momma + curvy roads= wear your seat belt.”

“Wolf apparently holds me to some kind of moral standard that he himself doesn't even observe but thinks I should.”

“Asking Wolf to couples' skate is like bungee jumping without a cord-it may be the bravest thing I've ever done in my life.Or it could be the stupidest.There's only one way to find out.I look him dead in the eyes, summoning up both my courage and my sense of reckless abandon, but before I can even speak one syllable-"Oh!" he says, looking over one shoulder and dropping his hands. "Kaitlyn's free now. I gotta get over there!"He rushes off, blowing me an air kiss.My mouth should get used to falling open when he's around, either from his good looks or from his total lack of comprehension of all things polite. Did that just happen?My face in my palms, I lean on my elbows against the rail, invisible, and fall into an intoxicating state of self-pity.”