Chapter Thirty-Nine
A Barbie doll.
That’s what she looks like. A real, flesh-and-blood Barbie doll, all long legs and shiny hair and bright, toothy smile. Like she stepped straight out of some glossy magazine.
Honestly, it suits him.
The two of them standing together outside The Prairie Pie earlier in the week has been burned into my brain whether I want it there or not. His hand on the small of her back. Her laughing at something he was saying. The way they looked like they belonged in the same picture.
I don’t know why it bothers me so much.
It’s not like we had any kind of commitment. Hell, we hadn’t even had our first official date. We were … something undefined. A possibility. A spark that hadn’t had time to either catch fire or burn out.
And yet here I am, stewing over some blonde stranger like he owes me something.
She has to be the reason he stood me up.
That’s what my mind keeps insisting. Probably followed him here from Nevada, all brokenhearted that her cowboy fantasy had packed up and left town.
I imagine her sitting by some luxury resort pool, in a tiny bikini, sipping a fruity drink, waiting for him to come to his senses and come back to her.
I shake my head. This is what I get for letting my guard down and letting Waylon Ludlow and his broad shoulders and chiseled abs and deceptive single-dad charm wiggle his way into my life.
I should have tried harder with Dixon Fisher. I should have given him a real chance instead of brushing him off because he didn’t make my pulse race. I didn’t even let him get past polite and pleasant before I decided he wasn’t enough.
What’s the old saying? Nice guys finish last?
Why is that? Why do we always want the ones who put us through hell? The ones who confuse us and frustrate us and make us feel too much?
Women really are sadists.
Time to flip the script.
Thanksgiving week rolls in like a storm front, busy and loud and full of family. Harleigh comes home for the long weekend, bursting through the front door with her bags and a hundred stories from campus.
And of course, the first thing she wants to do is go out on the town.
“There’s a new band at The Soused Cow tonight,” she announces to Charli, dropping onto the couch. “Everyone’s going. You and Bryce too.”
“I’m not,” I say from the kitchen, where I’m chopping vegetables for Grandma.
“Yes, you are,” she calls back.
“No, I’m not.”
She pops up, and Charli follows her to the kitchen. “Why not?”
“Because Dixon asked me to dinner and a movie,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “And I said yes.”
Her face scrunches up. “Dixon? The farrier? You going there again?”
“Yes, Harleigh. That Dixon. And, yes, I am.”
“But I thought we all agreed he was too boring?”
I sigh. “We don’t even know him. And I’m going to make an effort to change that.”
“Fine. So, bring him along,” she says.
“No. I’m not inviting him to the bar again, where the music is too loud and everyone’s drunk and distracting. I’m going to dinner. With him. Like a normal date.”
She stares at me like I’ve announced I’m joining a cult. “Are you serious?”
“I am.”
“You’d rather go on some boring dinner date than come out with us?”
“I’m not ditching him this time, Harleigh,” I say firmly. “And I’m not running off with some infuriating cowboy either.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh my God. This is about Waylon.”
“This is about me making better choices,” I snap. “Now drop it.”
She begs. She pleads. She offers bribes. But I don’t budge.
So, when evening comes, I stay behind with Matty while Harleigh, Charli, Bryce, Cabe, Royce, and Axle pile into Cabe’s and Bryce’s trucks and head out, laughing and shoving each other, like they always do.
There’s a twinge of regret in my stomach as I watch them go. But it’s small. Manageable.
Matty sits at the kitchen island, sipping ginger tea. “You made the right decision,” she says. “You should put yourself out there. See what all your options are.”
“I know.”
“But don’t settle,” she adds quietly. “Safe and dependable are great qualities, but they’re not enough if there’s no spark.”
I smile faintly. “That’s a pretty big thing to say from someone who just got engaged to a very sweet and dependable man.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, Caison has plenty of fire underneath all that sweetness, trust me.”
I snort. “Oh, I know.”
She blushes, and it’s freaking adorable.
“Who knows?” I quip. “Maybe Dixon does too.”
“You’re right; you’ll never know if you don’t try.” She hesitates, then adds, “Caison thinks you should hear Waylon out.”
I stare at her. “I bet he does.”
“I’m not trying to meddle,” she rushes. “I promise. But Caison swears Waylon didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Of course he swears that,” I say. “He’s Waylon’s best friend.”
“He’s about to be your brother-in-law,” she points out. “He’s not taking sides. He loves you both.”
“Right,” I mutter. “He loves you and doesn’t want to piss off your pregnant ass.”
Matty laughs despite herself. “He has been tiptoeing around me lately. I’m gonna have to make it up to him as soon as this morning sickness eases up.”
“I have a feeling he’ll forgive you,” I say.
There’s a knock at the door.
“That must be your date. Have fun,” she says.
I grab my coat and tug on my boots before opening the door.
Dixon’s here right on time. Not a minute before. Not a minute after.
And maybe I wasn’t standing here, waiting with nervous anticipation, but I also wasn’t standing here, waiting for him to never show, and that counts for something.
He’s holding a small bouquet of flowers and wearing a big smile.
“These are for you,” he says.
“They’re beautiful,” I say, and I mean it.
“Not as beautiful as you.”
Matty appears behind me. She says hello to Dixon, and I hand the flowers to her, asking her to put them in a vase for me.
Then I let Dixon walk me to the passenger side of his truck and open the door for me. We ride into town, passing The Soused Cow, and head to the romantic little Italian restaurant tucked on a quiet street.
And I ignore the tiny voice in my head that’s still wondering what Waylon is doing right now—and with whom.