Page 3 of The One Who Saw Her: Boone

"Shit. Shit, shitty, shit, shit!"

Oh God. Abort. Delete. Undo!

Too late.

"I've never had an orgasm with someone else in the room," Glow announced as if the leading authority on self-made orgasms.

Vivi's eyes went wide.

The coffee shop went still.

Then a low whistle cut through the silence. The whistler in question sat two stools over. And, hot damn, he was a tall cup of trouble. Broad shoulders, rippling pecs, and a face that looked like it had been carved specifically to make women get the vapors. Then he tipped his cowboy hat with the kind of slow grin that made her want to sink straight into the floorboards.

"Well now." His voice was lazy and flat, true Montanan. "Far as confessions go, that one beats 'I stole a candy bar in second grade.'"

Her cheeks burned. "I meant—I didn't mean—forget I said that. Well, that she said that." Vivi held up the phone in question.

"Can't," he said, his grin deepening until two dimples appeared. His gaze dropped to her designer cowgirl boots, with price tag still attached. "See, Boots, some things a man just feels obligated to rectify. And lucky for you, I'm a fixer by nature."

"Funny, Cowboy. You look more like the breaking-things type," she volleyed back, surprised by the bite in her own voice.

Vivi was a people-pleaser by nature. It went so far as apologizing to mannequins when she bumped into them. She lived in constant fear of disappointing anyone. Which meant she said yes more than she should, swallowed no like a bitter pill, and smiled even when her cheeks ached. But with this man, her polite filter seemed to be on the fritz.

He chuckled—a dangerously low rumble that curled under her skin. "Guess you'll just have to stick around long enough to find out which."

Again, her hackles raised in a way even Lewis couldn’t stir in her. There was something about this man that seemed to bring out her worst. She didn't like it.

She snatched her purse off the bar and stood to leave. Only her phone felt heavy in her hand.

This was only her second task, and she was already considering giving up. Just like that. One embarrassing moment and she was ready to throw in the towel. She heard her mother's voice, clear as if she were standing beside her.

Honey, this isn't about running away—it's about finally giving yourself permission to stop living for everyone else. This is your chance to step outside that little box you've built, to get uncomfortable, and to dig deep until you figure out who you really are. And who you want to be. For once in your life, be bold.

Vivi sat back down and turned to Einstein Brows, who looked like Paul Bunyan's bigger twin brother—logs for arms and a beer belly that threatened to escape his Grateful Dead shirt.

"Excuse me," she said, sticking out her hand. The bar stool groaned under his weight as he turned to face her. "I'm Vivi, and I have to tell three different secrets to three different strangers. Secrets I've never told anyone." She took a breath. "I once ate an entire Costco sheet cake by myself. In one sitting. Chocolate with raspberry filling. No shame." She put her fingers a centimeter apart. "Well. A little shame."

“No shame in that,” Einstein said.

"What's your third secret?" Cowboy said from beside her. He'd taken it upon himself to scoot closer.

"What?"

"You said you need to tell three different secrets to three different strangers. What's your third?"

"I already told you one."

"No, you told the entire bar one. Would you prefer to do that again?"

Vivi glanced at her watch. Twenty seconds and counting.

"It will be so much fun," Paul Bunyan said, standing. "Can everyone quiet down? New York here has a confession for us all."

The room fell silent once again and Vivi’s tongue went dry.

"Spill, spill, spill," Einstein said—and the shop erupted with cheers. Before she knew it the entire bar had joined in the chant. Except Cowboy, who remained leaning against the bar, arms crossed, jaw tight. His gaze never left her, his expression layered with a stubborn, possessive edge she hadn’t even noticed yet.

Elephant poop coffee still on her breath, she stood.