AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I burst out laughing. “No way.”
We stared at each other, smiling. “You have a nice laugh, ‘Not Phil’.”
My cheeks pinked. “Not Phil?”
“What do I call you? All I have is ‘Not Phil’,” he said, with air quotes for ‘Not Phil’.
I tried to stifle my smile and failed.
“What if …” I threw my hands up in the air. “What if we didn’t have names tonight? What if we were two strangers meeting under strange circumstances who had a drink?”
His brow creased. “You don’t want to know my name either?”
“No. Plausible deniability.”
“Okay, I guess. No names it is.” He looked me up and down again. “Before we get this drink, I’m guessing you’d like to get changed?”
“Um, yeah. That would be great.”
“I’ll wait outside while you get ready.”
I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding once he shut the motorhome’s door. I locked it and heard a chuckle on the other side.
“Take your time, Not Phil. Looking forward to our drink.”
3
STACEY
Ballydoon Community Post:
Ryan posted 6.24 p.m.:
Grassfire is out. Thank you to those who volunteered tonight. Cool conditions made it an easy job. Thanks also to those who helped catch our lost sheep today. Beer is on me at the pub tomorrow.
I was about to face the consequences of my life choices wearing very sexy underwear.
The only clean underwear I had was lacy black briefs and a matching bra, still with tags attached. It had been an outrageous purchase for me. It was not underwear one wore drenching sheep or helping with the wool clip in the shearing shed. A pang of guilt settled in my gut. Money was so tight at home. But Sam had insisted it was a bargain, and I’d relented.
I ran my fingers over the lace and satin. What if the stranger waiting outside wanted to help end my sex drought?
I snorted, removing the tags, and slipped on my new lingerie. Nothing would happen with the stranger, no matter how good looking he was. No matter what tequila-fuelled pacts I’d made with my best friend.
We were just having a drink.
With Phil in my jeans, I had no other option but a knee-length cotton dress and no tights on a freezing night.
I grabbed woollen socks and wrapped my scarf around my neck. My cowgirl boots came to my mid-calf and my woollen coat covered my butt. I’d be warm under a gas heater at the bar. The car ride home with Sam would be heated anyway.
I quickly brushed my wavy hair. Tonight, it was the colour of golden honey after two weeks in the sun. Sam called it ‘dirty blonde’. I left it loose over my shoulders, having lost my beanie to Phil.
As an afterthought, I coated my lips with cherry flavoured gloss.
“It’s not a date,” I hissed, rolling my eyes at the mirror.
I hastily stuffed my belongings into the bag, leaving the helmet, wristband and racing suit on the dinette table, and then texted Sam and Uncle Bruce.
Me: Phil’s gone home. I’m getting a drink and food. Left gear in trailer. Left key in usual hiding spot.
