Chapter 9
Man I Need
The clock on the dash shows I’m fifteen minutes early to get Birdie.
I called Earl earlier to give him a heads-up that I’d be the one picking her up from work for our date.
He sounded oddly amused, then lectured me on being responsible and safe.
Like he’s one to talk; the whole town has dodged his vehicle at one point or another.
On the drive over, it occurred to me that I’ve never really done the whole dating thing.
In the past, I’d meet someone at the bar and end up back at her place—easy, uncomplicated, and minimal effort required.
With Birdie, I want to do this right and show her the kind of treatment she deserves.
That’s why I swung by the local florist and grabbed her favorite flowers.
I may have earned several perplexed stares, but seeing her reaction will make it worth it.
I’m in the feed store parking lot, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of “Something Like That” by Tim McGraw on the radio. While I wait, I figure I’ll text Briar. I’ve been meaning to ask why Earl always drives Birdie around, and his comments earlier brought it to mind.
Walker: Why doesn’t Birdie drive?
Briar: Well, hello to you too, big brother. It’s so nice to hear from you.
*Briar Halstead added Heath Halstead to the chat
Walker: Why did you add Heath to our conversation?
Briar: Because it’s much more fun to tease you with backup.
Heath: I’d rather sit this one out.
Briar: Oh no, you don’t. I’m your only sister, and that means you’re obligated to participate.
*Briar named the chat Group Therapy Halstead Siblings Edition
Walker: Can you answer my question? I don’t have much time.
Briar: Until what? Midnight strikes and you turn into a pumpkin?
Walker: Birdie gets off work soon, and I’m taking her out.
Heath: So that’s why you left the ranch early.
Walker: Is that a problem? I finished the fence repairs like you asked.
Heath: Would it matter if there was?
I grunt my irritation at his flat reply. Over text, he’s impossible to read, and it’s a constant guessing game to see if he’s serious.
Briar: Nope. No arguing today. My former tramp of a brother is going on a proper date, and that’s something worth celebrating.
Looks like Briar isn’t taking any chances where Heath’s mood is concerned.
Walker: Hold up. Did you just call me a tramp?
Briar: Former, if that’s any consolation.
Walker: If I say yes, will you please tell me why Birdie doesn’t drive?
Briar: Fine, but only because you said please.
Briar: A rabbit family is living under her truck, and she refuses to make them move.
Heath: If that’s the case, she’s never driving again. Those things multiply faster than weeds.
Briar: Charlie and I have been telling her that for ages.
Heath: When did Charlie become an expert on population control?
Walker: We’ve got to come up with a long-term solution. I’m not comfortable with Earl driving her around anymore with his deteriorating eyesight.
As nice as the man is, he can barely see past the end of the driveway, let alone navigate busy streets.
Heath: Did you hear he nearly caused a wreck near the drugstore this morning?
Walker: Was Birdie with him?
Heath: Not sure. He almost got T-boned while cutting across traffic.
That only cements my decision. Until I figure out a long-term fix, I’ll be Birdie’s chauffeur.
I glance at the clock again—seven on the dot.
Birdie should be coming out soon. She might like her job, but she’s never one to stick around past her shift unless an animal needs rescuing, like the unsold chicken and ducks.
She’s been known to take them home rather than let them be abandoned or euthanized.
As predicted, less than a minute later, Birdie strolls out the front door in white shorts, a light blue V-neck, and her favorite sneakers. A floral bandana is wrapped around her head, and she’s got a canvas tote with a matching print slung over her shoulder.
I get out of the truck, bouquet of wildflowers in hand.
My chest aches to close the distance between Birdie and me, but I force myself to wait for her to come to me.
I don’t want to overwhelm her, though it’s nearly impossible when she’s so achingly beautiful, and I want nothing more than to wrap her in a hug.
Birdie lingers by the store entrance, scanning the parking lot. She checks her phone before sliding it back into her tote, then shields her eyes from the sun and scans the area again, pausing when her gaze lands on me.
She heads in my direction, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, each step measured.
I tip my hat, flashing her a grin. “Hey, there. Ready for our date?”
“What are you doing here?” she asks, coming to a stop in front of me. “Earl’s supposed to pick me up and should be here soon.”
She glances toward the road, like she’s expecting him to pull into the parking lot any second.
“Actually, he’s not on his way,” I tell her. “I canceled your ride.”
Birdie blinks at me. “Oh… darn it. I was looking forward to another punch so I’d be one ride closer to another freebie,” she teases, holding out a punch card.
The thing is roughly cut from cardstock, with Birdie’s Road to a Free Ride scrawled in messy handwriting across the top, ten uneven boxes drawn in two lines, and a cartoon taxi doodled in the corner.
Earl must have made it himself to reward Birdie for riding with him so often.
It’s a sweet gesture, but I still plan to take her where she needs to go from now on.
“How about you save your money, and I give you a free ride instead?” I wink, making her cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink.
“Someone’s in a giving mood tonight.” She laughs, her eyes drifting to the flowers I’m holding. “Who are those for?”
I hold them out. “They’re for you.”
“Wildflowers are my favorite.” She dips her head to inhale their sweet scent, tracing a fingertip over a bright red poppy. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
“You deserve to be swept off your feet,” I say, mesmerized as her gaze meets mine. “Never settle for anything less.”
She takes the bouquet, a soft smile curving her lips. If a simple floral arrangement makes her this happy, I’ll bring her flowers after every shift.
“Why don’t we continue this conversation in the cab?” I suggest, nodding to my truck.
Several onlookers linger in the parking lot, watching as I usher Birdie to the vehicle. Beneath her delight over the flowers, I can sense she’s still worried about something, and I’d rather talk about it with her in private.
I open the passenger door and offer my hand. A spark of warmth ripples through me as she slips her hand into mine as I help her into the truck.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, settling into the seat.
“You’re welcome.”
Her eyes lift to mine, something unspoken passing between us before she releases my hand and tucks hers into her lap. I wonder if I misread the situation or if she’s just as nervous about our date as I am.
I shut the door and circle around to my side, satisfaction settling in my chest at the thought that I have the prettiest girl in town riding shotgun.
When I climb inside the cab, Birdie stays silent, her eyes fixed straight ahead.
She doesn’t even glance my way when I start the engine and pull out of the parking lot.
I’m hit with a twinge of unease—she hasn’t asked where we’re headed or tried to make small talk.
Usually, she’d be peppering me with questions by now.
I replay our brief exchange before she got in the truck over and over in my head, trying to figure out what I could have said or done to offend her.
Now that I think about it, she never responded to my text this morning about our first lesson tonight, so maybe that’s part of why she’s so distant.
I’d give anything for a manual on how to play it cool while fake dating the woman I’ve wanted for years.
The silence is deafening, and after another minute, I can’t take it anymore.
I look over at Birdie, who’s staring at the passing scenery. “You’re awfully quiet. Want to tell me what’s on your mind?”
She shifts in her seat, fidgeting with the gold necklace at her throat. “It’s nothing.”
“You sure? It seems like something’s bothering you.”
She hesitates, then shakes her head. “Yeah… I’m fine.”
I might believe her if she didn’t look like she’d been struck by a live wire, nervous energy practically buzzing through her. She’s as pale as a sheet, looking like she’s plotting her escape from the moving vehicle.
“Birdie.” I speak softly, coaxing her to meet my eyes. “We can’t start our relationship by keeping things from each other. Please tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s nothing you should be bothered with… this is all just pretend anyway,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.
My chest tightens at her words, and I can’t bring myself to ignore her unease. I glance over my shoulder to make sure the road behind me is clear, then ease off the gas and pull onto the side of the road.
Birdie’s eyes widen. “Why did we stop?”
I don’t answer right away, shutting off the ignition and moving the flowers to the dash before sliding into the middle seat beside her.
“Let’s get one thing straight. If we’re doing this, we’re a team.” My knees bump against the dashboard as I shift to face her. “That means relying on each other when things get hard. From here on out, if you’re in a bind or need someone to talk to, I’m your man.”
As much as I hate this fake bullshit, I intend to treat it like an actual relationship. Do I have any clue what that looks like? Not even a little—but I’m committing to it regardless because Birdie is important to me.
“You’ve already gone out of your way for me, and I don’t want to be more of a burden than I already am,” she murmurs, barely above a whisper.
I exhale slowly, muttering a string of curses under my breath for messing this up again. Somehow, I’ve given the impression that I’m here out of duty, and it’s on me to set the record straight.
“Lesson twenty-six: Never be afraid to take up space,” I state.
She scrunches her nose as she studies me. “What happened to lessons two through twenty-five?”
“Never said I was going in order, now did I?” I wink. “A little unpredictability always keeps things interesting, don’t you think?”
The corner of her mouth quirks up. “You going to tell me what the lesson means?”
“Your feelings are valid, and you deserve to share them with your partner without fear of judgment or worrying you’re an inconvenience.
Any man who can’t see your worth in your most vulnerable moments isn’t worth your time—period.
” I let my fingers trace over the knuckles of her hand resting on the bench between us.
“Now let’s try this again. What’s on your mind, Birdie? ”
I brace myself, half expecting her to clam up, but instead she clears her throat, meeting my gaze as she speaks.
“Earlier, I panicked when you texted me about our plans. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to come to your place or if you were coming to mine,” she explains, pushing a loose strand of hair from her face.
“Then you showed up at the feed store, and every scenario I’d imagined went out the window, leaving me back at square one, trying to guess what would happen. ”
“If you had questions, why not text me back?”
“I didn’t want to bother you,” she confesses softly.
Unable to keep my hands to myself any longer, I scoot closer and cradle her face, gazing into her inquisitive blue eyes.
“What did I just say? You’re never a bother.
Text me whenever you want.” I pause as an idea pops into my head.
“In fact, let’s make it a rule—you have to message me at least five times a day. ”
Her posture stiffens, a faint flush blooming along her neck. “I can’t. That’s way too much. You’ll get tired of me.”
Never.
“Fine, ten times a day it is. Sound good, or should I keep going?” I challenge.
She lets out an adorable huff of frustration, squaring her shoulders. “You’re not playing fair, Walker.”
“Never claimed I would,” I counter. “I’m new to all of this too, so I get how overwhelming it can be.”
She gives a dry laugh. “I don’t see how you could possibly relate.”
I sigh internally. If erasing my past would mean she saw me differently, I’d find a way to do it in a heartbeat.
Since I can’t possibly tell her any of that, I settle for a particular truth that hides the full extent of how deep my obsession with her runs.
“I’m used to casual hookups, but I’ve never been on a real date.
Not one with conversation, laughter, and a kiss at the end that leaves me counting the hours until I can see her again.
The concept is terrifying, and I’m probably just as scared of screwing this up as you are.
” The confession isn’t easy to share, but I hope she sees this isn’t as easy for me as it might seem.
“Wait.” I can see the wheels turning behind her eyes. “So… you were never planning on us having sex tonight?”
“No Birdie, baby.” I like how the new nickname rolls off my tongue.
“Tonight’s about teaching you to expect to be wooed before you let a man take you to bed.
That starts with flowers, holding open your door, and noticing the little things—like how you fidget with your necklace and bite your lip when you’re nervous,” I say, brushing my thumb across her mouth.
She smiles, pressing her cheek against my palm. “In that case, we’d better get started if you’re going to woo me properly.”
“Challenge accepted.” I lean forward to brush a kiss across her forehead, and a contented sigh passes her lips.
Her reaction only strengthens my resolve to make this the best first date ever—one she’ll never forget.