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“Thanks.”
My fists clenched.Great.I had the urge to beat the crap out of a cowboy.
Nora came back on the phone. “Sorry about that. Where were we?”
“You were telling me my grandmother’s cough is about the same, but I’m wondering if you’ve been too busy to notice any change.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” I shook my head, hating myself. “I should go. Be careful.”
“Fine. Have a wonderful evening, Beck.” Nora’s voice was laced with sarcasm.
Whatever.I swiped off and tossed my phone on the couch cushion next to me. Then I proceeded to pour more whiskey—this time, I filled the glass three-quarters full, rather than stopping at a reasonable amount.
I was still stewing after knocking back half, when my phone buzzed again.
Nora: I declined the cowboy’s invitation. Figured I’d let you know since you sounded concerned for my safety…or something.
I wasn’t sure what pissed me off more—the fact that I was so transparent to Nora, or that my jaw unclenched after hearing she wasn’t riding off to some pasture with a cowboy. Of course, I would deny both. I texted back.
Beck: I wasn’t jealous, if that’s what you’re insinuating.
Nora: Mmm-hmm…
Beck: I wasn’t.
Nora: He wasn’t my type anyway.
Beck: Why not?
I sucked back more of my drink, watching the dots jump around.
Nora: Well, today he asked me if I’d ever considered moving out west. The man is looking for a wife.
Beck: That’s right. I forgot your type was no-strings-attached.
Nora: Preferably one whose custom-made slacks can’t hide the third leg he’s walking around with.
My lip twitched. Apparently all I needed was a little stroking of the ego to soothe the jealous beast within. I typed back.
Beck: I can be there in five hours.
Nora: LOL. Considering I haven’t ventured back on Tinder since Married Guy turned me sour, I might take you up on it, if you keep offering.
I felt better and better by the minute.
Beck: Now you’re talking…
Nora: How about you? Any dates lately?
Beck: I actually had one tonight.
I watched as the little dots jumped around, stopped, then started again.
Nora: What is it, about eleven thirty in New York now? A little early to be home from a date, isn’t it?
Beck: Wasn’t into it tonight.
