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I pull out her chair, and my gaze drops to her ass. And as round and beautiful as it is, there’s not a single twitch of my dick.
I order a Barron’s Bourbon on the rocks, and she orders a Long Island Iced Tea. “So, how do you like Kissing Springs?”
She takes another drink, then wipes her mouth with the napkin. “It’s okay. Since I work in Lexington, I don’t spend much time here.”
We were set up by my friend Axel, and I know nothing about her. All I was told is she’s single, pretty, and just moved to town a few weeks ago; right about the time Vanessa came back. Understanding that a distraction was in order, I agreed to the blind date.
“Oh, why did you move to our charming little town?” At the word “charming,” her lips assume a firm line, revealing a hint of disapproval.
“One of my ex-husbands lives here. We have children together, and it makes it easier on them, so I reluctantly moved from Lexington,” she says, downing her drink and setting it down hard on the table.
Before I can respond, Tucker Jackson, owner of the restaurant, joins us. “How ya been, Beau? Haven’t seen your parents around much. How are they?”
“Just fine, sir. Dad's job as a pharmaceutical rep means Mom travels with him frequently.”
He pats me on the back. “Well, I sure miss our younger days when we were flying by the seats of our pants.” He pauses. “Have a good dinner. If you need anything, let me know.”
Cindy gives him a tight-lipped smile as he disappears through the door. The waiter takes our order and brings her another drink.
Am I so bad that she needs to be liquored up?
I suffer through small talk until dinner arrives. I’m distracted, glancing around the room, and we have nothing in common because I’ve never been married and I’m without children. Cindy works for a car dealership in finance, which I’m sure is a stable job, but it has to be boring.
Or maybe I’m just not interested because she’s not Vanessa.
She orders Beef Wellington, which I can afford, but there are rules in dating, and you don’t order the most expensive item on the menu—especially on a first date.
A bad mood puts me in this predicament, and I know I’m being sensitive. Maverick bringing up Vanessa has me twisted and pulled like saltwater taffy. The more you pull it, the tougher it gets, and that’s what’s happening to my mood.
We’re ready to order dessert when my phone pings from inside my pocket.Boyd & Son’sregisters on the screen. I take a few seconds, puzzled by why someone would call from a law office.
“Hello.”
“Is this Beau Landry? This is Mr. Boyd from Boyd & Son’s.”
I clear my throat. “Yes, what can I do for you?” My first thought is, what has my twin done? He doesn’t even live here anymore, but he was the only reason the sheriff ever knocked on our door or a lawyer called. Last I heard, he was in a motorcycle club, and that was years ago.
“We need to speak in person. Can you come to the office tomorrow morning?” Mr. Boyd asks.
I’m staring at the dull, red-haired beauty across from me and say to Mr. Boyd, “Yes, sir. I can be there in twenty minutes.” Before I hear his response, I hang up. But it’s a gift from heaven to get out of this date. Life is too short to spend it with someone you don’t find interesting.
“Sorry, Cindy, but I have to meet an attorney about my business.” She sits there with her mouth hanging open, so I stand, and finally, she does too. I put the cash on the table and lead her outside. Then, I drop her off at her house.
“Raincheck for dessert?” she asks while her hands run up my chest.
Cindy reapplied her maroon lipstick, showcasing her white teeth. She’s a pretty woman, but without a hint of what I call fun. The problem is what I callfun, shredded my heart.
“I’m sorry. I’m just not ready to date. I’m concentrating on building my business. But thank you. I had a good time.” I take a step back, and her eyes widen like she’s insulted.
Her shoulders drop and her face falls. “Oh, okay. Thanks for dinner.”
I wave my hand like it’s no problem and stride back to my car.
The law office of Boyd & Sons isn’t far, so I’m hoping he believed I was on my way. I hate waiting for answers. Sure enough, the lights are on and as I enter, a bell rings. The receptionist's desk has an illuminated green library lamp with a brass base, but no one is present.
Mr. Boyd rounds the corner, saying, “I like a man that likes to get things done. Come in.”
Following him into his office, I scan the hallway that’s full of awards, both civic and professional. Photos of sports teams fill one section of the wall, and my eyes are drawn to a baseball team in orange where my brother and I each have one knee on the ground and our gloves on our other knees, posing for a team picture. This was soon before the change in him took place. We were twelve years old and best friends until he pulled away. To this day, I don’t know what happened between us. He retreated into his room, quit playing sports, started listening to heavy metal, and barely talked to me.
