Chapter 6
Abigail
WHAT THE HELL WAS Ithinking?
The problem is I wasn’t thinking or else I never would have agreed to go on a date with Tanner Savage. Or any man for that matter. But definitely not one as handsome as Tanner. If I ever get married again it’s going to be to a short man who’s a little bit chubby and lived in his mother’s basement playing Dungeons and Dragons until he was thirty. A man who would love me for me—quirks and all—not someone so handsome that women’s panties just burst into flames at a moment’s notice. Not someone who would cheat or hit.
Even his name sends chills down my spine.
I know better. Men lead to nothing but trouble and heartache. I had a handsome man once and he nearly broke my spirit. Then he made me a criminal. And Brandon wasn’t even half as good looking as Tanner. Not that I’m blaming Brandon or anyone for the choices I made. I made those all on my own and I’m the one who has to live with them at the end of the day. And I do. Sort of.
No, I should call him and tell him that I’m sick. That I’m sorry but he made a mistake. He doesn’t really want to date me. He wants to date someone else. Tanner was just confused in the moment. But something tells me Tanner Savage is a man who knows exactly what he wants and goes for it. Shit.
But I can’t because I was so lost in his bright hazel eyes that I didn’t bother to stop and get his phone number. I’m so stupid. I can’t believe I let my hormones get the best of me. Granted, Tanner has a special way of lighting a Roman candle firework to those hormones and launching them into space. Only to then turn around and make my brains into scrambled eggs.
I look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror in my motel room. I’m wearing a bra and panties while I brush my hair and dust a little makeup onto my face. I see a woman getting ready for a date.
A date? I scoff at myself. Brandon died a little over two months ago. I have been a widow for just as long. Even though my husband has been dead in my heart for much longer than that, I shouldn’t be dating. I feel oddly guilty for going out with someone new.
I pull on my old, well-worn jeans and beat up sneakers, I don’t have anything else, but I also think Tanner knows that and wouldn’t take a girl like me out on date to a fancy restaurant. My wavy, blonde hair is being an unruly mess. Really, it’s decided to go back to our “dancing days huge”. This might be Texas, but stripper hair is never acceptable outside of a club. I pick up my brush from the vanity and pull it back, snapping the rubber band in place just as a knock sounds on my door.
“Shit!” I bark out jumping, dropping the brush and knocking over the jar of my loose face powder which sprays all over the small bathroom. I stand back trying to get out of the splash zone when I accidentally kick the chair leg, smashing my toes.
“Abby?” Tanner calls out.
“Umm . . . just a minute,” I shout back.
I grab a towel and try to mop up as much of the spilled powder as possible. Tanner knocks on the door again. Crap! I cough a horrid choking cough when a huge cloud of powder billows up in my face.
“Are you alright in there?” he calls out.
“F—” I cough again before clearing my throat. “Just fine!”
I toss the soiled towel in the bathtub and pull the shower curtain closed. I grab my makeup bag and hold it open just below the counter as I use my free hand to scoop everything into the opening of the bag before zipping it closed and placing it at a perfect right angle to the faucet.
I brush the loose tendrils of hair back from my face with my fingertips before taking a deep breath and opening the door to my motel room with a fake smile on my face. Tanner’s eyes go wide before looking me up and down.
“I just need to grab my keys and my purse, and I’ll be ready to go,” I tell him before shutting the door in his face. I don’t want to give him the wrong idea on a first—andlast—date. I grab my purse and my keys including the clunky old metal key that locks and unlocks this room before opening the door—again, to Tanner’s stunned face.
“I like everything about you, darlin’ but I think you might should put a shirt on before I have to arrest us both for indecent exposure.” His smooth, deep voice rolls over me. I tip my head to the side in confusion and it takes me a second to realize what he was saying.
I look down at myself and realize I’m only wearing a bra and jeans before letting out an “Eep!” and hurl myself back through the door and slam it shut. I drop my purse on the floor by the door and launch myself face down on the lumpy double bed.
A knock sounds at the door.
I hold my breath deciding it best not to answer. Maybe he’ll take pity on me and leave. Forget all about this whole date thing and leave me to my humiliation. Unfortunately, I’m fresh out of luck.
A knock sounds again.
“Abby?” he asks as he pushes the door open a crack.
“Abby’s not here right now,” I mumble from under the pillow. “Can I take a message?” I hear his smooth chuckle from the other side of the room.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he says.
“There is everything to be embarrassed about,” I shout back.
“Would it help if I took off my shirt?”
