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chapter one
lily
I’m a jumble of nerves on the twenty-minute taxi ride from Western Springs—population twelve-hundred—to the nearest bar in the next town over to meet the first date a couple of weeks of swiping right with very low standards has produced.
I have a lot riding on tonight going well. I’m thirty-two. I don’t have a real job. I have a collection of miscellaneous ways to make money. Wannabe florist. DIY botanical body products maker. Part-time gardener. House sitter. Dog walker. Errand runner. Basically, anything people will pay me to do that I don’t need to get naked for, I’m in. Relationship status is very, very single. And fingers crossed for tonight’s online date because I really need something to go my way.
My best friend Jacks just got engaged to the love of his life. And he’s a freaking movie star—the Jackson Waters—with more zeroes in his bank account than I can probably count up to. That kind of puts your own life into perspective. Jacks and I are the same age, born only a couple of months apart. He has a happy relationship and a thriving career. I have one measly date with a guy I met on a dating app for rural singles called TumbleWed—and yes, it’s actually spelled like that.
I’ve traveled all over the world to see Jacks filming, smiling at movie premieres, or doing press tours, and I’ve spent time with him in L.A. He hardly ever came home until he met Selena. And I’ve never wanted to live anywhere else but Western Springs. Even so, it’s starting to feel claustrophobic.
I was never in a rush to be in a relationship. Probably because I’ve been in love with my other best friend, Gunnar, since kindergarten. It always felt like I had tons of time and that everything would work out when the time was right. One day Gunnar would notice me, realize he’d been madly in love with me the entire time, and we’d live happily ever after.
So far, no luck with that.
I’m thirty-two and not getting any younger.
I want to be in a relationship. I want to be a mom one day.
And I’ve known every single man in this town for years. And they’re not interested. Or if they are, I’m not interested. The pool is just too small for the odds to line up that someone I like actually likes me back.
TumbleWed Mike is from two towns over. And if tonight doesn’t go well, I might have to broaden my search. Go nationwide.
Is there a support group for women like me? Women who don’t have actual careers and are thirty-two and still single. Women who’ve been in love with their best friend their whole lives. Women whose other best friend is a movie star who just got engaged to the love of his life and is giving them total FOMO. Women who have to rely on an embarrassingly bad app called TumbleWed to meet a man because they live in a town of twelve-hundred people and already know everyone in it.
After handing forty dollars to Western Springs’ one and only licensed taxi driver, Taxi Randall, I get out and walk into the Goldrush. I had to book this taxi a week ago. Because when there’s only one taxi and very limited public transportation, that one taxi is in outrageously high demand.
I even bought a new little black dress for tonight. Normally, I wear jean shorts or a jean skirt and a flowy tank top to the Goldrush. But tonight, I’m going for classy. The dress has little cap sleeves and a princess neckline that shows off just a bit of cleavage and has a full skirt that fans out around my hips. It’s not too low-cut because that wouldn’t be classy. And for once in my life, I’m going to be classy if it kills me. But I still couldn’t bring myself to wear heels. That’s just not me. So, I’m in my scuffed brown cowboy boots. But I spent extra time on my makeup and curled my long, blonde hair into big curls that hang down my back. I think I turned out pretty okay. The black dress doesn’t exactly hide how much of me there is under this dress, but as my mom would say, it’s very flattering on me.
It’s a Tuesday night, so I’m really hoping I don’t see anyone I know here. Going on a date with a guy I met online is embarrassing enough in this town. But I’m all done up. I look like I tried tonight. And that is going to make me feel even more ridiculous if this doesn’t work out. I didn’t tell anyone I was going on a first date tonight, with a guy I met on TumbleWed, no less. Because it’s mortifying. I know the first rule of online dating is to meet in a public place and to tell people where you are, but I just couldn’t do the second part.
As soon as I walk through the front door of the Goldrush, my eyes take a second to adjust to the dim interior lit up with neon signs on the walls. Everyone has to walk past the bar when coming or going from the front doors or the restrooms, so this usually ends up being a pretty fun place on Friday and Saturday nights, since everyone is constantly walking past the bar and getting another drink. The Goldrush has the only dance floor in over fifty kilometers. But it’s quiet on a random Tuesday.
Scanning the bartenders, I don’t see anyone I know. Then I scan the rest of the bar to see if anyone I know is here and going to witness this if my date turns out to be a total shitshow.
And that’s when I see him.
Fuck. My. Life.
Jacks’ little brother, Jameson, is leaning against the wall over by the bar with a cute little redhead pressing up against him, twirling her hair in her fingers. I’m going to have to walk right past him, so there’s no way he’s not going to see me. Shit.
“Jameson,” I mutter as I walk past him, frowning.
When I get to the bar, there’s no line. I order a glass of Pinot Grigio because that seems like the kind of thing you’re supposed to order on a first date. Wine is classy. Men like classy, apparently. I wouldn’t really know.
While I’m waiting for my wine, Jameson walks over to stand next to me. He pushes his elbows onto the bar and leans back against it, staring down at me in his old black t-shirt that says Ride Hard, Put Away Wet and ripped jeans. When did he get so tall? He must be six-one or six-two. At five-foot-five, with only an inch of heels on my cowboy boots, he towers over me.
“You look real pretty tonight, Lemon. Don’t tell me you got all dolled up like this for me.”
Jameson started calling me Lemon a while ago. I don’t know why it started or what it even means, but it’s annoying. It could be because of my blonde hair, but it’s equally likely it’s because of my salty personality. I honestly don’t really care. At least he only does it when we’re alone, so I don’t have to deal with anyone else wondering why he’s calling me a random citrus fruit.
“Trust me, I didn’t.” Waving my hand over myself from my blown out and curled hair to my full face of makeup and my new dress, I shake my head. “None of this is for you. How would I even know you were going to be here? What are you even doing here?”
He grins down at me. “Just gifting the ladies of Western Ridge with my presence.”
Laughing, I smile up at him. Jameson acts like an idiot most of the time, but he can always make me laugh. “And how’s that working out for you?”
“You worried I’ll be lonely? You know, I always have a few irons in the fire. What are you doing here tonight?”
