For Sam: A new-girl small town cowboy romance

Chapter 3 Sam

The five outfits that lay neatly organized on my bed have my complete attention until the ticking from the antique alarm clock on my nightstand reminds me I’m not ready. Tommy will be here in fifteen minutes and he’s never late, which means he might show up earlier than he said.

My nerves keep creeping up and it takes a few breaths to settle them so I can avoid breaking out in a full sweat.

Not. A. Date.

Tommy Landen has his pick of people in this town. He has to. Yes, Jacksy has his own charm that seems to draw in people left and right, but Tommy… He’s the full package: smarter than anyone I know, sweet, kind, thoughtful, and so sexy. I could get lost in those sparkling blue eyes of his for days.

Shaking my head to remind myself that this is not a date, I refocus my efforts. He’s simply being a kind friend to me, just like he is with Avery and Courtney. Nothing more. So, if this isn’t a date, what do I wear to a work function that will turn into drinks and apps?

The pencil skirt is too work-centric, especially for this small town. I put that and the blouse I paired with it back in my closet. It’s not hot enough today to have a/c on, so the bar won’t be freezing.

The two sets with pants go back to the closet as well.

Okay, that’s progress.

The flowy skirt with a high-neck sleeveless top with strappy tan, but sensible, heels would work with a casual blazer with the sleeves rolled up for the meeting and would look casual without it after. Or I can wear the long slacks-like shorts with the button down navy shirt with eyelets paired with my tan ballet flats.

My eyes bounce back and forth for another minute and I realize I’m chewing my thumbnail. Again. I turn around and grab the bottle of polish from my bathroom counter to touch up the chip I made. I look back at my bed.

“Just pick one, Samantha,” I mutter, blowing on my nail.

With a rare burst of courage, I let myself consider that maybe, just maybe, Tommy might be thinking of this as a pseudo-date. Grabbing the shorts ensemble, I hang it back up, deciding to wear the flowy skirt.

Only ten minutes, which means I need to be waiting at my door to leave in five. I release a quick breath to steady my nerves and step out of my robe to get dressed, making sure that nothing is out of place. A childhood memory of having my skirt tucked into my underwear pops into my mind and I smooth the fabric down and check myself in the mirror as I add my jewelry.

“That’s not gonna happen again, Samantha, and you know it,” I say to my reflection.

Worst-case scenario is that Tommy will notice before anyone else and fix it himself just like he does for his two besties. Which means I’ll be friend-zoned.

I snort. It’s not like I’m not already there.

My brown suede work tote is laid out on the table with my three options I already decided against for tonight. I stack my clipboard, planner, and printed agenda before slipping them in along with my little canvas bag with my flare-tip markers, sticky-notes, and tabs. My keys get clipped inside and I zip my phone in the pocket.

And I promptly pull it right out since I need to know when Tommy arrives. My hand shakes almost imperceptibly. Closing my eyes, I focus as I breathe in, and then breathe out.

It’s a meeting, where you’re not presenting, followed by drinks with new friends. You’ll know most, if not all, of the people there.

In, and out. Over and over until my hand vibrates because a message came through.

Tommy: I know I’m a little early, so take your time if you need more, but I’m here when you’re ready.

A smile spreads across my face. I like a guy who doesn’t show up late, or forgets me altogether. Which is what my second-to-last ex did. Was I that forgettable?

Either way, Tommy’s here now, so even if it’s just a mutual friendship, I’ll take it. My heart knows that Tommy Landen is a catch no matter how you get to have him in your life.

Oh no. What if he asks me to be his wingman so he can pick up someone else at the bar? No, that’s ridiculous.

Shaking my head, I turn off all the lights in my apartment except the one I always keep on near the door, flip my keys out of my bag, lock the door, and am on my way. Making sure the front door fully latches, I give it an extra tug.

And then I see him. A genuine, unrestrained smile lights up his face and I know it reaches his eyes even though they’re behind his aviators. My heart skips a beat. Waving, I let myself return the smile without reservation. His white cowboy hat sits on his head and I haven’t decided if I like him better with or without it. Tommy could wear a fruit basket and look amazing. He casually steps away from the passenger door and opens it for me.

Another skipped heartbeat.

Oh my goodness he smells so good. It’s almost torture to walk past him without brushing my fingers against his.

I step up into the passenger seat, making sure my skirt doesn’t catch on anything so I don’t make a complete fool of myself. By the time I’m settled and buckling my seat belt, he’s getting into the driver’s seat with this hat in hand. He gently places it in the back seat and runs his hand through his not-too-short light brown hair that has one piece that likes to fall over his forehead no matter how many times he tries to move it away. My fingers itch to brush it back just once for him. After placing his aviators on the dashboard, his bright blue eyes are fixed on me.

We just sit there as I hold my breath, staring at each other, that warm smile on his lips. Lips that I would love to…

“Thanks for driving me,” I say, breaking off that train of thought and remembering to make my lungs work. “I know it’s a small town, but I swear, just last week I got lost.”

Something softens in his gaze, making me melt a little. “Anytime, truly.”

My heart squeezes and my stomach flip-flops as I’m already mentally shaking myself out of the daydream I’ll think about tonight after we have our group drinks.

“I’ll have to pick you up sometime,” I say, trying to make it seem like I’m not some damsel in distress who refuses to learn how to drive around this tiny town.

“If we’re meeting at Barnett Farms or at Jackson’s house, then you can pick me up. Otherwise, maybe we can agree to let me do the driving so you don’t go fifteen miles out of your way for a meeting one mile from your place.”

His wink doesn’t help the swarm of butterflies that seem to have taken up permanent residence in my belly whenever I’m around him.

That sounds long-term.

But it’s just friendship and convenience. It has to be.

Tommy and I are just friends.