Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 215(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 215(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
I fiddle with my phone while I wait for my date, checking it for messages from my grandmother. But there’s nothing. No looming crisis that I need to rush in and solve. Part of me is relieved and part of me is disappointed.
It's not that I don't want to be here. It's just that I haven't been on a date in so long, and I'm a lot more nervous than I thought I'd be. I tap my fingers against the bar top.
I wonder what the man from the motel is doing right now. Why was he at the motel? Is he here in Asheville on business? Is he hoping to find a hot date like me?
“Stop thinking about him,” I say out loud.
The bartender glances at me. In the din, I shake my head like it wasn't me who spoke. Fortunately, a college-age girl snaps her fingers at him. I see the annoyance flicker across his expression before he smooths it over and saunters toward her.
“Young people,” I mutter under my breath.
I remember when I was young and carefree, but that was years ago. Now I'm a single mom with two kids because my husband preferred looking at women online and eventually hooking up with them in seedy parking lots. What if the guy I meet tonight is just like that? What if I leave and tell Mira the cowboy never showed?
I scramble off the stool, fully prepared to thank my friend for her gift but tell her I returned it unopened. That’s when I hear a familiar, gruff voice behind me say, “Hey there, boss. Long time, no see.”
I turn around, scarcely believing my luck that the guy in flannel from the pool is standing here. He's still wearing the Stetson.
“Did you follow me?” I ask the first question I can think of.
He looks a little disappointed that the idea didn’t occur to him. “I'm waiting on a girl. Somebody by the name of Ronnie.”
“You're waiting for a girl named Ronnie?” I wonder if my luck could really be this good.
He nods. “Me and my buddies were part of this charity auction called Cuddle a Cowboy, and some girls won dates with us. But I don’t even know what my girl is supposed to look like.”
I see his gaze go to the sorority girls that are laughing loudly and tossing their hair back. Jealousy flares within me. Oh, hell no.
I hold out a hand, way too awkwardly formal for a casual bar like this one. “I'm Ronnie.”
A slow smile spreads across his face as he ignores my awkward attempt at a handshake. “Are you now?”
“And you must be Flint,” I answer, finally dropping my hand. The only reason I could know his name is if I were part of the Cuddle a Cowboy event, the same way that he knows who I am.
He gives me a mock salute. “Yes, ma'am. Here and at your service. What can I do for you?”
My brain short circuits as I picture the two of us alone in my motel room doing filthy things. “We start with some drinks, and you can get to know me.”
“You mean before you steal my virtue?” He teases and reaches for my elbow, helping me back onto the tall stool like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I chuckle. I like how easy-going Flint is. He's also easy on the eyes, though I'm sure a man with his looks probably knows it.
He settles onto the stool next to me, long legs wrapping around it easily. He gestures for the bartender, and the next thing I know, we both have drinks.
I take a slow sip of my root beer float from the straw, the cold vanilla ice cream mixing perfectly with the fizzy drink. I haven’t had one of these in years, and it’s oddly comforting. “So, at the pool, did you know who I was?”
“No, I just thought you were the prettiest girl I'd ever seen, and I wanted to get to know you.” The corner of his mouth tips up in a half smile. “Seems a bit like fate, don't it?”
It’s everything I can do not to snort. Maybe I’m jaded. Maybe I’m a realist. I’m definitely not an optimist or a dreamer. “I don’t believe in fate. I think we make our own choices in life.”
“Yeah, but what if something is guiding you to those choices?”
“I think fate is a cop out for weak individuals that don't want to take responsibility for their choices,” I argue. I have no patience for people that don’t take ownership over everything in their lives. If you don’t take ownership, you can’t fix the bad things that happen.
The grin he gives me is dazzling. “I think fate has been leading me every step of the way right here to this moment with you.”