For Sam: A new-girl small town cowboy romance

Chapter 54 Tommy

Maybel’s is more of a bar than a restaurant, but walking in while holding Sam’s hand feels like we’re at a five-star place with a private chef. There’s one table in the far corner with a white tablecloth, a single rose, and a little sign that says “reserved” just like Keith said.

“Is this for us?” Sam asks.

“I might know a few people who work here,” I reply, pulling out a chair for her so she can see the rest of the bar if she’d like. I’ll only be looking at her so it doesn’t matter which one I take.

“Thank you,” she says, looking around for a moment before leaning her purse against the wall next to her chair so no one can trip on it.

“If you’ll give me a minute, I have something to get at the bar.”

“Okay, I’ll go check my lipstick to make sure I’m still wearing some after greeting you.”

I flash her a full smile, kiss her cheek, and walk over to the bar where Elliot is working tonight. There are a handful of people ordering so I wait as patiently as possible to catch his attention. I just want tonight to be perfect for Sam.

It’s not like this is the first time she’s been out to eat in town, let alone here at Maybel’s. We’ve already been here the night of Sharon’s presentation. But I want her to see how much she means to me and what this town has to offer someone who is used to a big city. I don’t want her to feel stuck or trapped here like our mom. I don’t want her to think there aren’t hidden perks to everyone knowing each other, even if most of what’s here is casual. She didn’t actually grow up with cotillions, but she’s used to having plenty of restaurants to choose from, versus two main ones that are bars plus one cafe.

A hand removes my Stetson and I hold still for a moment. Is Samantha wearing my hat in front of everyone here? Does she remember what it means? I catch Elliot’s confused look at Sam right before I turn around, which doesn’t make much sense.

Except, when I turn, it’s not Samantha Davies wearing my hat…

It’s Maisy Jones.

Sam

Oh seriously, my heart is so fluttery that my brain has apparently stopped working because I get to the bathroom only to realize I didn’t bring my purse which has my lipstick in it. And I could use a touch up because half of it seems to be missing from my lips. Rolling my eyes at my forgetfulness, I push the door open and cross over to our adorable little table.

It’s really the sweetest thing. Whenever it was set up, they pushed the closest tables a little farther away. They must host fancier events than I was led to believe because the cloth is commercial grade and silky and while the rose in the mini vase is real, there are fabric rose petals carefully dropped around it. From what their website and Hank have said, they do great wings and pizza for large crowds.

Once I grab my purse, I push in my chair and look for Tommy’s white hat at the bar. His back should be to me so if I’m lucky, I’ll get another peek at his butt in these pants.

Huh, I don’t see it.

I take my first step back to the bathrooms when something white catches my eye. Smiling, I turn to see him for a second.

But it doesn’t make sense.

Tommy’s at the far end of the bar, so I can’t see his butt because he’s leaning against the bar itself. And he’s facing a gorgeous, short, curvy woman wearing his hat.

What on earth?

He said that wearing a cowboy’s hat was a signal to everyone that you’re riding the cowboy and that it’s a big deal to do that. Is this a cousin I haven’t heard about? I know I haven’t met everyone in this town enough times to memorize their names and faces, but I can’t place her at any events or even the grocery store. But she looks a little familiar.

And then my eyes are drawn to something shiny as she swings her purse. It”s completely bedazzled. It’s the woman from the office who acted oddly while asking for a printout of the upcoming events.

Oh my God. Her name was Maisy.

I’m looking at Tommy’s Maisy.

No, I’m looking at Tommy’s Maisy wearing his hat in the middle of a bar.

Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.

My stomach clenches in knots and I’m about to go hide in the bathroom for a few minutes when one other motion catches my attention…

Maisy reaches out and takes Tommy’s hand in hers and leads him off towards the back door.

I think I’m going to throw up.

I can’t stay here. His ex who broke his heart wants him back. And he went with her.

How do I leave?

I have to leave a note so my absence is explained. My instinct to do things properly gives me some semblance of order in the well of emotions that’s threatening to erupt right here in front of all these people. I’m trembling as I open my purse, grab a pen and my little notebook scrawling “I’m so sorry, I got sick. - Sam” as fast as I can. I tear it out, fold it in half, and tuck it under the vase so it won’t somehow get blown away.

One final deep breath to gather my courage, I stand up tall, resolving to not sprint out of here, and walk out the front door with my head held high. Not one tear on my face.

Tommy

I storm past the bar, needing to see Samantha. Just being near her will calm me after that fucking bogus attempt at manipulating me again. Because Maisy Jones misses me.

Yeah right.

Her rodeo guy stopped bringing her on the circuit, she realized he was seeing other people, and now she wants another chance with the person she could walk all over.

She got exactly one minute. I’m sure I looked like the biggest dick ever pulling out my phone to set the time. But I agreed to give her one minute of my time so she’d give me back my hat and leave for the evening. Well, I didn’t specify the hat, I just hoped she wasn’t that much of an asshole to keep the one my dad gave me. I couldn’t handle the thought of her doing something to make Sam feel uncomfortable and she proved herself to be in an especially confident mood by starting things off by taking it and putting it on like she had any right to do so.

I sit down in my chair, my hands shaking. The table is empty and I can’t sit here just getting more and more worked up over this, so I stand up and walk briskly to the men’s room. No one seems to be in here so I let out a frustrated groan and splash water on my face. The cool water gives me a little shock and resets my lungs so I can finally take a deep breath.

Dabbing the water from my face with a paper towel, I close my eyes and picture Sam. Sam on a horse, Sam at a meeting, Sam tucked against me, Sam in the shower, Sam asleep next to me.

Just Sam.

Confident that I won’t be shaking now from how upset I am, I go back to our table, which is still empty. My mind runs through a worst-case scenario where Maisy approached Sam in the bathroom and said something to her that made her leave.

Except that would have happened in the last thirty seconds at the most because I spent that amount of time in the bathroom.

It’s fine. Everything’s fine.

Sam could be changing all of her makeup, painting her thumbnail if she bit it, or, you know, using the bathroom. I just need to sit down and chill out.

Easier said than done.