Page 17 of I Wish He Would

If you could eliminate one thing from the world, what would it be?

Sitting alone in an empty coffee shop on a Thursday afternoon is not what I imagined for a first date. The only reason I’m still waiting is that my friends set it up. At least I know it’s safe and I wasn’t lured here by some dating-app serial killer.

But, come to think of it, the sole barista did disappear a good thirty minutes ago…

What if I didn’t get the location right? I glance around the quaint coffee shop, a renovated house in a more secluded area of town. It feels like the kind of hole-in-the-wall place where I’d get the best coffee of my life. It’s simple. Clean. Homey. I inhale the warm smell of coffee beans in the air as the light above my table flickers. Or maybe it’s the kind of place where no one would be able to hear me scream.

I shake my head. I need to cool it with the murder-mystery shows.

I’m here for a first date, not my demise. That is, if the man my besties personally selected decides to ever show up.

I glance at my phone. Whoever he is, he’s thirty-six minutes late. I open Mallory’s text and reread it.

MALLORY

Your date is running late, but he’s on his way. Don’t leave!

I set my phone back on the table with a sigh. Why did I agree to this? It was a ludicrous idea to begin with, thinking that twenty questions could lead to falling in love.

The door behind me opens, and I jump in my seat still in my murder-mystery mindset.

“Sorry I’m late.” The words carry a Southern drawl.

I turn and can’t stop my mouth from falling open when I see the man walking toward me. At least I can verify he’s not a serial killer. But he’s also the last person I expected to walk through the doors of this quaint coffee shop for a date with little old me.

“Rhett Hayes.” He extends a hand toward me when he reaches the table, as if I don’t already know who he is.

All of America—no, the whole world—knows him. The man who has taken the country music industry by storm. You’d have to have been living under a very large rock the last few years not to hear his hits on the radio or while walking the aisles of a grocery store. My personal favorite is still his first hit: “Somethin’.” It was my anthem when it came out. An ode to my string of bad first dates. A sign that men do exist who want more than a one-night stand. And now the artist is standing in front of me.

I’ve done hair for countless celebrities and influencers, not to mention the fact that my friend is a pro baseball player and one of my best friends is dating a movie star. But I can truthfully say this is the first time I’ve ever been starstruck.

Well, at least now I know why the rest of the coffee shop is empty. He probably bought out a remote location for our date to avoid the paparazzi.

I shake Rhett’s warm, strong hand and hold on a little longer than necessary. I’m surprised I don’t feel any calluses from all his guitar playing, but who am I kidding? He’s a celebrity; he probably moisturizes like Austin. I shake the thought away.

“Alyssa Cartwright.” I let go of his hand.

Rhett takes the seat across from me and grins. “Mallory has told me so much about you.”

I let out a nervous laugh. “Hopefully nothing too embarrassing.”

He leans back casually in the wooden chair while I shift anxiously in my seat. If you told me this man had never been nervous a day in his life, I’d believe it. Everything about his demeanor screams cool, calm, and collected. “I know all about the time you highlighted your hair with blue Kool-Aid right before school pictures in junior high.”

“Freaking Mallory,” I mutter as my cheeks warm.

“It’s even better considering you’re a hairstylist now, right?” He looks to me for confirmation, and I nod. “What would your fellow stylists say about your Kool-Aid technique?”

“They’d probably stare at me like I lost my mind.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’ve moved on to bigger and better things.”

The barista appears beside our table, making me jump again. “Can I get y’all anything to drink?” she asks us, but her attention remains solely on Rhett.

I can’t blame her. He’s the rugged kind of handsome where he looks good without even trying. His blond hair is messy up top, and his jaw is covered in at least a few days’ worth of stubble. The whole rugged vibe is pulled together by worn jeans and a blue-and-green flannel that makes his blue eyes pop. The sleeves of his flannel are even cut off, leaving his toned arms on display.

Rhett smirks like he knows I was staring as he gestures for me to order first.

My cheeks flame hotter as I turn to the barista. Normally, I’d order some kind of lemonade refresher, but their iced coffees look too good to pass up. “I’ll have an iced blueberry cobbler latte, please.”