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“That could describe a lot of us.” Bud stood taller and laid a hand on his chest. He was a good-looking man, but too cocky and arrogant for her liking.
“Yes, but now don’t take this wrong way, he is younger.”
Bud covered his heart with both hands. But he quickly recovered from any feigned insult and smirked. “Just more experienced in the ways of pleasuring a—”
“I’m sure, but I need to find this guy…”
“Your boyfriend?”
“Yeah, my boyfriend.” She’d messed up but hopefully recovered fast enough.
“I see.”
“I haven’t been able to reach him and it’s real important that I do.” Amanda put a hand on her stomach, and with the motion, the fabrication she was spinning made her physically ill. She recalled Lindsey moving inside of her and how it had felt like the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings. When Trent had suggested that she act as if Motel Guy had been a boyfriend she couldn’t reach and that she was knocked up, her mind had strictly been on securing her alibi. A means to an end.
“Oh… Ooooh.” Bud stood up and crossed his arms. “Well, I’m not sure how I can get a hold of him.”
“I think he— I mean, he likes to come here and have a beer or two.” That latter part was the truth; she’d seen Motel Guy here on a few occasions. Last night they’d just advanced from their winks and smiles from across the room.
“Huh. I’d like to help but…” He rubbed his chin and looked around the bar.
“You can.” She perked up. “Just if you see him, could you call me?”
“Sure. Give me your number and I can have him call you.” He bobbed his eyebrows.
“You’re a devil. You’re just eager to get my number.”
“Not gonna lie.”
“I have a bun in the oven.” She made a sulky face, but what was wrong with this guy hitting on a pregnant woman? “It would mean a lot to me if you could call me if you see him. Then I’ll come back here.”
“I might need a little more description.”
Amanda pried her memories and inhaled deeply. “He smells like a campfire.” He knows how to trace his hands over—
“A campfire? Do you expect me to sniff him?”
She giggled. “Yeah, I guess that’s nuts.”
“Just a little.”
“He often wears this black leather jacket that’s seen better days. It’s a little worn around the hem and cuffs.”
“Oh, yeah, I think I know who you’re talking about.”
She waited him out, hoping he’d say a name, but he didn’t. “Good,” she eventually said.
“He likes his draft beer.”
“Sounds like we’re talking about the same guy. That’s good that you know him.” She couldn’t exactly ask his name given her shtick, but if only his first name slipped out then she could cross-reference it with black Dodge Ram pickups in the area.
“Well, I don’t know him, but I’ve seen him. But go ahead, write your name and number down and I’ll call you next time I see him.” Bud plucked a square napkin from behind the counter and placed it in front of her with a pen.
“Great. You’re a lifesaver.” She scribbled down her first name and number, realizing she was breaking the primary rule of one-night stands, but she had no choice.
Seventeen
Amanda returned to the car where Trent was tapping on the wheel to some song on the radio. She could hear it filtering out into the parking lot. She couldn’t pin down the tune, but if she had to guess, she’d say it was country music. He turned it off as she got into the passenger seat.
