Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Cassidy
I ’m going to kill them.
The situation was me, at a bar, waiting for my lovely friend Lynn. That didn’t happen. Instead, I am now in the presence of by far the hottest man I have ever seen.
Tall, broad, defined shoulders, a mess of dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, lips with a cute, pert Cupid’s bow, and a perfect slope to his nose. Dressed in faded but fitting dark-washed jeans, a plain black crew neck that is not faded—good for you Hunter—and cowboy boots?
This poor man has found himself in the middle of a decade-old tradition of pranking. I’m not going to let him suffer, and I’m not going to let the opportunity of bedding this fine specimen pass me up.
“I’m sorry about that. I’ve got cash to cover that round, and the next is on me.” Blue eyes locked on mine, like pools of water in the Caribbean. I just want to dive in and lose myself in them.
“Next round, huh?” I smile. As far as pranks go, Lynn is going to get her ass reamed out, but then I might hug her .
“If you’d like,” he says politely. “You were saying your cows… milk the situation?” Our drinks are delivered to the table, and he takes a healthy chug.
“Yes, they absolutely do. I have three: Georgie, Mary, and currently the most… hmmm adventurous, is Lynn. They are a rowdy herd, and they currently brought me to this very situation.”
“Because I’m a farmer, and you want to sell them?” He tilts his head and I catch the sharp edge of his jaw, covered in stubble.
Delectable.
“Because they orchestrated this well-planned prank, my friend. But I am not going to let the night be lost because of that.” I smile at him, and I can tell he likes it. Weird, I’ve never had a man react to my smile. Tits, yes. Legs, yes. Smile, not so much. Granted, usually on dates I’m wearing a low-cut shirt or a dress that shows off some leg. So, I guess he’s taking what he’s got.
“Prank?” he asks.
“Did someone ask you to meet me here?”
“I thought you did.”
“I’m sorry, but I did not. I’m definitely not disappointed you showed up here, but I was planning on seeing Lynn tonight.”
“Your cow?” Okay, beautiful, but slow. I can work with that.
“No, my girlfriend… a girl who’s a friend, not like a girlfriend-girlfriend. Tried that last year, not my thing,” I joke but I still don’t think he’s catching on.
“Okay, so I asked you to come here, how, over text?” I push.
“Um, no, the dating app.” He pulls his phone out, opens something, and then shows me the conversation between apparently me and him. And no shit, there is a picture of me.
“May I?” I ask motioning toward his phone.
“Sure.” He hands the simple device over and I scroll to the top. I start laughing as I read.
Stetson31: Hey CountryHeart_CityGirl. How’s the weekend been treating you?
CountryHeart_CityGirl: Great if you consider a hangover the size of Texas a positive.
Points to my dear Lynn. As I read on, she replies only with truths of me, and in ways I would. My love for her grows; the deepness of our bond shows in her ability to personify me.
“Okay Hunter, well I’m sorry to say that is not me. That is my friend Lynn pretending to be me. We have had this weird ritual on our birthdays since college, and we prank each other. I had called her and the girls ‘cows’ recently, so that was the cow reference. Then they glitter-bombed me, hence the sparkle reference. And then this last part here, the date where you opened our conversation by mooing at me was the cherry on top.” He takes another drink and remains quiet. I imagine he’s trying to process it all.
“So, I haven’t talked to you at all, and you weren’t in on the conversation up until right now,” he says carefully.
“Sadly yes, but Lynn personified me in the best way. She answered truthfully for me; it just wasn’t me.” I give him a sad smile.
“So, what’s the goal in the end? Just mess with you and I’m collateral damage?”
Oh no, I can see that this guy seems a little hurt. “ Hmmm. I think Lynn was having fun, but also honest in her effort to set me up. I don’t pick up men like you on my own that often.”
“So, it was a win-win for you and Lynn?” He asks, and I bust out laughing.
He startles at my sudden outburst.
“I’m sorry. I’m a child, but that rhymed, and I thought it was funny. Okay, yes. It was a win-win for me and Lynn. But we could also make it a win-win for you and me.” I smile enthusiastically and he warms a bit more to me again.
“You think so?” He raises a brow quizzically.
“I’m a master at salvaging almost anything.” I sit up straighter and toss my hair side to side.
“I’m a little out of my element and I seemed to have fallen into the web of some deep-seated antics. But I’m game for some drinks and getting to know the real you.” He lifts his beer and I hold up my glass.
“To unusual circumstances and getting to know someone.” I smile and then clink my glass to his can. We both take a long drink and I give him a warm smile.
“So, are you really a data analyst?” he starts.
“I am indeed. Just browsing through your conversation, I can guess Lynn didn’t make up a single fact about me. She isn’t typically a liar, outside of apparently stealing my identity. I grew up in the burbs, then moved to the city. I prefer dogs to cats. I have never been on a farm other than for pumpkin patches during the fall. All true. I’m kind of feeling a little left out because you know more about me than I do about you, so how about you fill me in.” I beam and drink my wine.
“Hmmm, I don’t know where to really start. I’m thirty-one, run my family’s farm full time; my brother handles the livestock and I handle the crops and paperwork. I spend most of my downtime sitting outside, drinking a beer, listening to music. I have never been to a club. I don’t like asparagus, but I grow a ton of it. I don’t have any pets right now. What else would you like to know?” His voice is deep, but not too deep. Just the perfect tone that could read audiobooks, or even read me an interesting article or a passage from one of my books while I sip on coffee. I dig a voice like that. It has a rich tone, without the arrogance that a ton of city boys have.
Running his family’s farm? That sounds really hard. I can manage my job and my little apartment with ease but running an entire farm. Jeez, that sounds like a seven-day-a-week kind of deal. I’m a lover of sleep on the weekends.
I bet his folks are super proud. I know my dad would have been. Hell, I could have worked at McDonalds but as long as I was into it and happy, he would have encouraged me to stay right where I was.
“Why did you sign up for the app? Have you had previous dates from it?” I ask.
“Uhm, no. This was my first. I signed up to see what was out there, outside of my small town.”
“Already went through the lot there, huh?” I joke, and he doesn’t even chuckle. I raise both of my brows and press on. “Sorry, I tend to be a little on the rough side. My dad always called me Sassidy. Ya’ know ‘cause I was so sassy.”
He just nods his head and takes a drink.
“Do you like running the farm?” I ask.
“I love it. Knew since I was a kid that I wanted to head it on myself. My younger brother likes workin’ on it, but he sure as hell doesn’t want to run it. My pop was the perfect role model. Confident but not cocky, hardworking, loyal, smart but not arrogant, and a helluva family man.” He smiles with his Caribbean-blue eyes, and I can’t help but smile too.
I like seeing people chase their dreams, find something they care about, and put their soul into that. It’s an amazing thing to love what you do, and when it earns you a living, that’s the cherry.
“He sounds like an amazing man. Your pop still help you with things here and there?”
“Nope, he’s fully retired and traveling the US with my ma. They took their hound with them, so it’s just me, my brother, and my hired hands.”
“That’s pretty amazing. How old is your brother? He single, too?” Hunter stiffens a bit.
“He’s twenty-eight, and yeah, but he sure as hell doesn’t want to be. He’s as domestic as they get.” He finishes his beer and signals for our server.
“I don’t have any siblings. It was just my dad and me. He was also an easy man to admire. Happy, funny, smart, sweet; I don’t think I can think of a bad word to say about him.” I get a warm feeling thinking about my dad. Even though he’s gone I can feel his eternal love and support.
“Was?” He tilts his head.
“Yeah, he passed when I was twenty-six. He went down smiling and telling me how everything he had achieved in his life left him feeling wholesome and like he wasn’t robbed.”
Hunter is intently listening, and I don’t feel like I’m babbling or saying too much. I just feel comfortable.
We drink slowly through our next round. Our conversation is moving so fluidly, I’m not sure how much time has passed. It feels like only a second, but the conversation is enough to span weeks.