Paloma rolls her eyes and Amie cackles, poking her tongue out as she grabs a dinosaur-themed notebook and pencil set. Presumably, they’re for Maisy, although they’re both cute as hell, and a little part of me is tempted to inject a tiny spark of brightness into my job with some fun cartoon stationery. The thought is all but forgotten when Amie pushes between me and Paloma as Katy pays for her purchases.
“Speaking of cowboys,” she says, looking pointedly at me.
“Yes!” Paloma cries, bouncing on the balls of her feet and clapping her hands lightly before grabbing my arm. Katy rolls her eyes. “Tell us more about Cowboy Boo!”
Katy and I had a long conversation on the phone a few nights ago, where I told her everything about bumping into Everett again. But this is the first time the four of us have been together since then, and I guess I do owe them the details. Actually, to tell the truth, I’mdyingto talk to them about him.
“Can we have a margarita lunch?” I ask. I could do with a drink and some tacos. The banana I ate for breakfast is no longer doing the trick. “Get me some tequila and I’ll tell you everything.”
“Promises, promises,” Amie laughs. She follows Katy in line to pay for the dinosaur stationery, then links one arm with mine and the other with Katy. I grab Paloma’s hand, and the four of us amble towards the mall’s food court and our favourite Mexican restaurant.
With a large plate of nachos on the table between us, and a cocktail each—despite my request for tequila, Amie and I are unfortunately drinking mocktails as we have to drive home—I finally prepare to get my friends caught up on my life. At Katy’s insistence, I pass my phone around the table for them all to see the contact picture associated withEverett.
“Everett, huh? Sexy name,” Amie hums.
“God, you’re nearly as big a slut as me,” Paloma slaps Amie’s hand away from my phone as she tries to get a proper look. “You’ve got a man.”
“Yeah, but I’ve still got eyes, bitch.”
Paloma laughs. “True enough. Andgood lord, Ruthy this cowboy isfine.”
“Isn’t he?” I sigh wistfully. He’s fine as hell. “He said—he implied—I mean, he kinda…”
“Spit it out, love,” Katy laughs.
“Nah, swallowing’s more fun.” Amie winks. Paloma splutters on a mouthful of her margarita, and Katy slaps her back lightly as she reaches over to bump Amie’s outstretched fist with her own.
“Heinvitedmetostaywithhim,” I say in a rush, words all jumbled together. He invited me to visit, to stay with him, and I’m seriously considering pushing all of my grown-up responsibilities aside and taking him up on the offer.
“What?” Paloma’s earsplitting screech is almost enough to shatter the glass in her hand—not to mention, enough to rupture myeardrums.
“He lives just outside Austin. He gave me his number and we’ve texted a bit, talked on the phone. We even FaceTimed last night. He said next time I’m in town, I should stay an extra day or two, and he’ll show me around.” I scoop up a pile of salsa on a chip from the edge of the nacho plate and shove the whole stack of food into my mouth. Not that it will deter my friends from peppering me with questions, but it might buy me an extra few seconds to come up with answers.
“But he was in New York.” Amie fills all of our water glasses from the pitcher in the middle of the table.
“His little sister lives there. She has his nose. His lock screen is a picture of them in Times Square.”
“Cute,” Amie hums. “And he’s not serial killer, right?”
I nod. I’m pretty sure he’s just a guy. A good one, maybe even one of the best. He’s been nothing but sweet and respectful on the couple of FaceTime calls we’ve shared. A waitress dressed in the restaurant’s signature black and neon green uniform delivers our variety platter of tacos, and we pause our conversation for Paloma to flirt outrageously whilst ordering a second margarita and another pitcher of water for the table.
“That’s good enough for me,” Amie declares once the waitress has moved on. “Do it, girl. Go get some of that cowboyboo, Boo.”
“I haven’t decided anything,” I lie. I take a huge bite out of a taco. I have all but decided. Something in my gut tells me I need to see him again.
“What have you got to lose, Roo?” Katy asks gently. “He’s fine, you’re fine—it’s not like you won’t be flying out there anyway, right? It’s not like you have to marry the guy. Let loose! Have some fun!” By the time she’s finished her speech, I’ve finally finished chewing the taco, and I have nothing left to hide behind. I put on my best glare.
“I fly out there for work, Katy. Not for fun.”
“Work hard, play hard, sis.” Paloma raises her cocktail in a toast before draining the glass.
“When are you out there next, Ruth? Text him. What’s the worst that could happen?” Amie pushes my phone back across the table, and when I meet her eyes, I realise all three of my best friends are staring at me. Two of them are, at least—Paloma immediately cracks, laughing to herself. I adore her, but if push came to shove and our lives depended on her success in a staring contest, we’d all be utterly screwed.
“Okay, fine, thanks Doctor Pepper,” I say with a roll of my eyes. Immediately, the song from the early 2000s advertising campaign begins to play in my head, and I groan inwardly. I’ll be singing it to myself for the next week, I’m sure of it. “Maybe I’ll text him next time I’m in Austin. Don’t get your hopes up. It might turn into nothing.”
“But it might besomething,” Paloma giggles, waggling her eyebrows.
When I get home later in the afternoon, I book myself a flight from New York to Austin, following my next business trip, and I start earmarking my favourite clothes to pack in my suitcase.
