I didn’t have to be a psychic to know she was meeting up with some douchebag. One that I was sure her personal matchmakers, Harmony and Destiny, had set her up with. That much I knew. But it was what I didn’t know that was driving me crazy.
Where was she going?
Who was this guy?
Was this the first time she was meeting up with him?
Did she have pepper spray?
Were they meeting in a well-lit and populated area?
It was killing me not to pick up the phone and demand answers from my sister. But what would that do? The last thing I wanted to do was tip my hand. I’d waited this long for the girl of my dreams; sitting on the sidelines of her life for a little bit longer wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. It would just feel like it.
At least, I didn’t think it would. But damn, when I’d seen her get into her car, I’d wanted to block the driveway and not let her leave. To get out of my truck and tell her that she was the only girl I’d ever loved. To kiss her until she forgot not only that any other men existed, but also that the rest of the world did. It was so bad that my chest had tightened to the point that I’d wondered if I was having a heart attack.
The only thing that had stopped me from making a fool of myself was realizing that, if Cara wanted to date, who was I to stop her? Yes, I wished she were dating me, but because I didn’t meet some mystery criteria, that wasn’t going to happen. And more than anything in this world, I wanted that girl to be happy. Even if her happiness made me miserable.
A low vibration reverberated in my pocket. With my good hand, I pulled my phone out. For a split second, I found myself holding my breath, hoping that it might be Cara. It wasn’t. Lizzy had texted—she was going to be at the bar tonight and she thought I should stop by with Travis. Since there was only one bar in town, she didn’t have to specify that it was the Tipsy Cow.
My head fell back as I let out a sigh. It had been too long since I’d wet my sex whistle, and that was not helping my borderline obsession with Cara.
I was in it for the long game with her, and as much as I’d wished that, when she’d gotten her clean bill of health, the stars had aligned and I could have finally told her how I felt, that hadn’t been the case.
Yet.
If she wanted to date, then she deserved to date and do all the things she’d missed out on while she’d spent her adolescent and teen years in and out of the hospital. No way in hell was I going to stand in her way. But I sure as hell would be there when she was done.
I would be the last man standing, and when I was, I would get on one knee and ask her to make me the luckiest man in the world.
But it didn’t look like that would be happening tonight.
Maybe I should hang out with Lizzy, I thought. If Cara was busy dating, then there was no reason I should have been sitting at home like a lovesick puppy. Even if, technically, that’s exactly what I was.
Before I had a chance to respond to Lizzy, Travis walked through the barn doors.
“Jaynie just hit me up and said to meet everybody at the Cow tonight. You in?”
I should say yes. Hell, if I went home, I’d just stay in this pissy mood and feel sorry for myself. Not to mention a cold beer sounded like exactly what the doctor ordered. The only problem was I didn’t feel like seeing Lizzy. Or Jaynie. Or anyone other than Cara.
“Is there a problem?” Travis cocked one eyebrow.
I shook my head.
Taking a few more steps into the barn, my brother narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on with you?”
Shit. I did not want to get into this with him. I was closest to Travis out of all of my brothers. Growing up, we’d shared a room. After high school, we’d both gone to the University of Texas, and the day after I’d graduated I’d moved into the house we both now shared. He knew me well. Too well.
“Nothin’. I’m just tired.” I started towards the back of the barn, where my office was. Travis hated paperwork and never went back there, so I was hoping that he’d take the hint and not follow me.
He didn’t.
“Bullshit,” he said as soon as I sat down at my desk.
I looked up. He stood in the doorway.
I should have shut the door.
Ignoring him, I tapped on the keyboard to wake my computer up. When the screen lit up, I opened the file of inventory reports. It was the last thing I had to do before I left for the day, and all I wanted to do was get the hell out of there. I was in a shitty mood, and it felt like the walls were closing in on me.
“Your panties have been in a twist for a while now. I figured it would pass. But it hasn’t.”
Since there was no question in my brother’s statement, I didn’t bother acknowledging him. Staring straight at the screen, I continued working.
“So?” he prompted.
I kept typing. “So, what?”
“So, what crawled up your ass and died?”
My brothers all had a way with words.
“Nothing, but thanks for your concern,” I answered dryly.
“Suit yourself.” Travis lifted his arms in surrender. “You want to mope around like a little girl, that’s on you. I’m going to the Cow tonight. If your time of the month ends, meet me there.”
With that colorful parting shot, my brother disappeared from the doorway.
Resting my elbows on my desk, I scrubbed my hands over my face. Had I really been moping around? I sure as hell hadn’t felt like myself lately, but I didn’t think I was acting any differently.
My phone dinged and vibrated, alerting me to an incoming text. As I pulled it out of my pocket, I held my breath, hoping that it would be from Cara—again. I’d been doing that ever since Saturday night. For some reason, our time sitting on a blanket, under the stars, and watching a romantic movie had given me a sliver of hope that she would call or text. That was shrinking by the second though. Sure, she hadn’t seemed overexcited—or excited at all—when I’d initially sat down. But, after the movie’d started, we’d had a good time. At least, I thought we had.
Unlike her radio silence, I’d texted her every day since then. Sometimes with jokes, other times with trivia about the movie Ghost. She’d only replied twice; both of those times had been with the laughing emoji. I kept thinking that she might initiate a text of her own, with real words. She hadn’t. And, every time it wasn’t her, my mood grew worse.
I wasn’t surprised that the message was not from Cara. Disappointed? Yes. Surprised. No.
Lizzy: Hey, Jaynie just told me that Travis said you have cramps. Are you okay? Did you pull a muscle or something?
“Asshole,” I murmured under my breath through a smile I’d tried not to let slip.
My brothers thought they were real funny. I was already starting to come up with my retaliation against Travis when another text came in.
Lizzy: We can skip the bar and I could come over and rub out your cramp. I’m really good with my hands.
Well, damn. That was exactly the kind of invitation I would have been all over six months ago. Tonight, it just made the hollow emptiness inside me grow. Knowing that I couldn’t continue like this but still not sure I wanted to face Lizzy, I answered back noncommittally.
Trace: Got a lot of work to catch up on. I might stop by later.
Almost immediately, the screen on my phone lit up.
Lizzy: Don’t work too hard. All work and no play makes Trace a grumpy boy.
Oh, give me a fucking break.
Again with the grumpy. What the hell was wrong with people?
Deciding that I needed to tune out for a little bit—before I really did bite somebody’s head off—I put my earbuds in and turned my Spotify playlist on at full blast. As I worked, I pushed all thoughts of Lizzy, my brother, and even Cara out of my head.
Well, maybe not all thoughts of Cara. But hey, two out of three ain’t bad.
Chapter 9
Cara
“He broke his arm pattin’ himself on the back.”
“So, you started working there right after graduation?” Peter asked as he lifted his mug of beer to his mouth.
“Yep. Well, kind of. I worked on spec at first, and then they brought me on as a contract employee, just working story to story.”
“Cool.” He nodded and checked his phone for about the fifth time in so many minutes.
When we’d first been seated, I’d thought it was rude that he’d pulled the device out and set it next to the white linen napkin on the tabletop. But, after glancing around at the other diners in the fairly upscale restaurant, it looked like that was the norm. Everyone was either on their phones or had them within reach. Well, except me. I’d turned my phone on silent in the parking lot.
He’d offered to make the twenty-minute drive—which was closer to forty-five in commuter traffic—to pick me up, but I’d insisted on meeting him. I planned on taking a page out of Harmony’s playbook and keeping my romantic entanglements outside Wishing Well city limits. It was easier that way. I loved the close-knit community I lived in, but the last thing I needed was everyone and their brother having an opinion—or, even worse, offering advice—on my personal life.
No. Thank. You.
“So, Harmony said that you haven’t really dated that much,” Peter commented as he set his phone down.
Seriously? Embarrassment flooded through me, and I suddenly had the urge to strangle my best friend. What would have possessed her to reveal that piece of my personal life trivia?
“No.” I shook my head, trying to keep my face neutral. “I mean, yeah, I haven’t dated that much.”
“Yeah, I feel you. I haven’t really done that much dating, either,” he admitted as he rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward.
Okay, maybe this wasn’t such a disaster. Even though not dating was an odd thing to have in common on a date, I would take it. In the short time we’d been doing the obligatory small talk, I’d yet to find one strand of commonality to grasp. I planned to hold on to this one with both hands.
“Really?” I responded casually, not wanting my excitement to show.
“Yeah. I had a girlfriend all through high school and we didn’t really date, unless you count football games and dances. Then, in college…” He sat back and blew out a loud breath as a smug grin crept up on his face. “Well, I definitely wouldn’t call what I did dating. Fucking, yes. A lot of fucking. Sometimes with more than one girl at once. But dating? Nah. I didn’t even know their names most of the time.”
I hoped my shock wasn’t being broadcast in high def on my face. But there was a better-than-good chance it was. I mean, who said that to someone they’d met less than half an hour ago? And not only share that information, but also look so proud about it?
Apparently, Peter does, I thought as he winked at me.
“But I know your name, Cara.” He overemphasized my name as if it were some kind of a compliment or an honor that he knew it. Then, maintaining uncomfortable eye contact, he took another swig from his frosty mug, set it down on the table, and leaned back. “And I gotta say, I’m liking this whole dating thing. I feel very mature. Like an adult. Ya know what I mean?”
I found myself nodding, unsure how to respond. I had to admit that I’d felt the same thing when I’d been getting ready. When I’d slipped my dress on, I’d had the very distinct feeling of being a grown-up. That excitement had multiplied as I’d slid on a pair of black heels and pulled the thin strip of leather around my ankle before buckling it.
I mean, what girl didn’t love getting dressed up for a date? A first date at that. Still, I hesitated over sharing that information with him. Maybe it was that he’d just told me he’d been a man-whore in college. Or maybe it was because I didn’t feel anything when I looked at him. No connection. No interest. No spark.
Peter was a good-looking guy who fit almost everything on the list. He was twenty-four, with light-brown hair. He stood at least six foot tall, had pretty, blue eyes, a great smile and a little Charlie Hunnam vibe. He worked for his family’s furniture business. They made custom wooden furniture, mainly tables and dressers.
From what he’d described of his college days, he definitely had a little bad boy in him. And he’d been nothing but sweet to me, starting with offering to pick me up and then pulling my chair out as soon as the hostess had stopped at our table.
But, when I looked at him, I felt…nothing. Well, not nothing. I kind of felt awkward. I hoped that, after we got to know each other more, that would pass. I actually wished that I would have Ubered there; that way, I could’ve had a drink. A little liquid courage was probably what I needed to get past this uncomfortable get-to-know-you phase of the evening. I took a sip of my soda and didn’t think it was going to quite do the trick.
“So, what about you? Harmony would not shut up about the fact that I had to take you somewhere nice. Is that because you’re trying to break out of your random-hookup phase?” Peter asked without even a smidgen of judgment tinting his voice. His face was as serene as if he’d just asked if I liked puppies.
I, on the other hand, let out a little gasp, which hindered the liquid trying to travel down my throat. Setting my glass down, I brought the napkin I’d laid out properly on my lap to my lips so I could choke with a bit of discretion.
“Are you okay?” Peter sounded alarmed.
With as much poise as possible, I nodded and even gave him a thumbs-up.
Finally, after I was able to breathe regularly again, I shook my head and attempted to compose myself. “Sorry about that. It just went down the wrong pipe. And um…no, I’m not really the random-hookup kind of girl.”
By the time I got the last word in my explanation out, the light of Peter’s interest flickered and died.
“I’ve been…just, you know, really focused on school and, you know, then work,” I explained.
But he was already looking at his phone again.
As much as I wanted to call it a night, throw in the towel, chalk this up to an uncomfortable life experience, and move on, I had to make it through dinner, at least. Harmony had gone to the trouble to set this up. Peter had gone to the trouble of putting on a button-up shirt, and I was wearing a dress that had been hanging in my closet for the past six months and heels I’d worn a grand total of one other time. Not to mention this steakhouse was known for its filet mignon, which was exactly what I’d ordered. I just hoped that this night wasn’t a preview of what was to come in my adventures in dating.
Although, maybe it wouldn’t be all bad if it was a total crash and burn. I couldn’t count the number of dating horror stories I’d heard from Destiny and Harmony. I’d been a good audience when they were sharing their war stories, but I’d never had anything to contribute. Now, I would. Maybe this was like a rite of passage.
“Here you are.” The waiter set our plates in front of us.
I smiled. “Thank you.”
“I need steak sauce,” Peter demanded without even giving the waiter the courtesy of glancing up from his phone.
Being rude or dismissive to anyone, but especially people in any kind of a service industry, was a huge pet peeve of mine.
“Of course, and can I get anything for you, ma’am?” The waiter lifted the empty food tray off the stand.
Still smiling brightly, I assured him, “No. I’m good. Thank you.”
As I cut into my meat, I tried to stay in the present and really experience the evening. My mind was already back home though, in Wishing Well, at the bar where Harmony and Destiny had agreed to meet me after this date.
“Oh shit!” Peter exclaimed.
My gaze shot up from my food. His hand was in a fist, held up to his mouth, as he laughed hysterically while still looking at his phone.
Now, it was my turn to sound alarmed. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah… It’s just my friend. He sent… He’s just…” he managed to say between fits of laughter. After wiping his thumb and his forefinger under his eyes
, which were watering because he’d laughed so hard, he said, “You know how it is. He’s just crazy.”
“Oh yeah, for sure, totally,” I agreed as if I knew what he was talking about. I didn’t.
“Oh man, I can’t believe he did that! I gotta forward it.” He motioned his head in my direction. “Right? I gotta forward it.”
I nodded on autopilot. But I still didn’t have a freakin’ clue.
“Oh damn!” he called out like he’d just won the lottery. “Everyone is snapping it now.”
My eyes shot to the diners around us. Peter was definitely not using his inside voice, and we were getting quite a few stares. Lowering my head, I started cutting my meat into larger bites and eating as fast as I could. The sooner my plate was clean, the sooner the night could be over. At least that’s how it worked when I was a child and my parents wouldn’t let us get up from the table until we’d finished.
“Oh shit! I’m being so rude.” Peter looked up from his phone as if he’d just been hit with a lightning bolt of epiphany.
“No, it’s fine,” I said with a mouth full of food.
“No, you gotta see this. It’s hilarious,” he insisted as if he were about to let me in on the funniest thing in the world.
He held his phone out, and I swallowed as I leaned closer to try to see what he was showing me. The screen was tilted and dark. As I got closer, he tipped the device up, and I had never been so happy that I wasn’t eating or drinking anything, because I would have definitely needed the Heimlich if I had been.
I’d always heard the saying “ignorance is bliss”, but I’d never actually bought into that theory. Until now.
“Is that a…” I asked in a horror-whisper.
“Yeah. It’s a dick pic,” Peter said, confirming my suspicion. Loudly.
If we hadn’t had the attention of everyone in the restaurant before, we did now.
Then his chest puffed out slightly. “Guess whose.”
Out of sheer shock, I played along. “Is it yours?”
Convincing Cara (Wishing Well, Texas Book 2) Page 6