2. Ronnie
Ronnie
Don’t think about the handsome, bearded stranger, I tell myself as I slide onto a stool at the bar to wait for my date.
I order a Shirley Temple, mainly because I want to be sober when I evaluate my potential cowboy.
Who am I kidding? I’m kind of hoping he’s a disappointment, so I can see what happens with the cute guy at the motel.
I fiddle with my phone while I wait for my date, checking it for messages from my grandmother. But there’s nothing. No looming crisis that I need to rush in and solve. Part of me is relieved and part of me is disappointed.
It's not that I don't want to be here. It's just that I haven't been on a date in so long, and I'm a lot more nervous than I thought I'd be. I tap my fingers against the bar top.
I wonder what the man from the motel is doing right now. Why was he at the motel? Is he here in Asheville on business? Is he hoping to find a hot date like me?
“Stop thinking about him,” I say out loud.
The bartender glances at me. In the din, I shake my head like it wasn't me who spoke. Fortunately, a college-age girl snaps her fingers at him. I see the annoyance flicker across his expression before he smooths it over and saunters toward her.
“Young people,” I mutter under my breath.
I remember when I was young and carefree, but that was years ago.
Now I'm a single mom with two kids because my husband preferred looking at women online and eventually hooking up with them in seedy parking lots.
What if the guy I meet tonight is just like that?
What if I leave and tell Mira the cowboy never showed?
I scramble off the stool, fully prepared to thank my friend for her gift but tell her I returned it unopened. That’s when I hear a familiar, gruff voice behind me say, “Hey there, boss. Long time, no see.”
I turn around, scarcely believing my luck that the guy in flannel from the pool is standing here. He's still wearing the Stetson.
“Did you follow me?” I ask the first question I can think of.
He looks a little disappointed that the idea didn’t occur to him. “I'm waiting on a girl. Somebody by the name of Ronnie.”
“You're waiting for a girl named Ronnie?” I wonder if my luck could really be this good.
He nods. “Me and my buddies were part of this charity auction called Cuddle a Cowboy, and some girls won dates with us. But I don’t even know what my girl is supposed to look like.”
I see his gaze go to the sorority girls that are laughing loudly and tossing their hair back. Jealousy flares within me. Oh, hell no.
I hold out a hand, way too awkwardly formal for a casual bar like this one. “I'm Ronnie.”
A slow smile spreads across his face as he ignores my awkward attempt at a handshake. “Are you now?”
“And you must be Flint,” I answer, finally dropping my hand. The only reason I could know his name is if I were part of the Cuddle a Cowboy event, the same way that he knows who I am.
He gives me a mock salute. “Yes, ma'am. Here and at your service. What can I do for you?”
My brain short circuits as I picture the two of us alone in my motel room doing filthy things. “We start with some drinks, and you can get to know me.”
“You mean before you steal my virtue?” He teases and reaches for my elbow, helping me back onto the tall stool like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I chuckle. I like how easy-going Flint is. He's also easy on the eyes, though I'm sure a man with his looks probably knows it.
He settles onto the stool next to me, long legs wrapping around it easily. He gestures for the bartender, and the next thing I know, we both have drinks.
I take a slow sip of my root beer float from the straw, the cold vanilla ice cream mixing perfectly with the fizzy drink. I haven’t had one of these in years, and it’s oddly comforting. “So, at the pool, did you know who I was?”
“No, I just thought you were the prettiest girl I'd ever seen, and I wanted to get to know you.” The corner of his mouth tips up in a half smile. “Seems a bit like fate, don't it?”
It’s everything I can do not to snort. Maybe I’m jaded. Maybe I’m a realist. I’m definitely not an optimist or a dreamer. “I don’t believe in fate. I think we make our own choices in life.”
“Yeah, but what if something is guiding you to those choices?”
“I think fate is a cop out for weak individuals that don't want to take responsibility for their choices,” I argue. I have no patience for people that don’t take ownership over everything in their lives. If you don’t take ownership, you can’t fix the bad things that happen.
The grin he gives me is dazzling. “I think fate has been leading me every step of the way right here to this moment with you.”
I finish the last of my root beer float. “Assuming that’s true, then where is fate leading you next?”
“On a grand new adventure,” he answers and drains the rest of his root beer too. I watch his throat work. His beard looks so thick and plush. He sets his empty mug down. “Do you want to get out of here?”
My heart rate speeds up even more. My panties have been damp since the moment I saw him by the pool. “I'd love that.”
He stands and holds out a hand. I put my hand in his, tingles running down my spine. He tugs me gently from my stool, careful to make sure I’m steady on my feet.
In the darkened parking lot where only half of the lights have blinked on, I survey the collection of cars. The bar is just down the street from the motel, and I chose to walk because it was such a nice evening out. “Which one is yours?”
He puts a hand on my lower back, steering me toward a pickup truck underneath a working light. He pats the hood affectionately. “It’s not much, but it’s Ole Reliable.”
He opens the door and helps me into the vehicle. His hands linger for a just a moment longer than necessary on my hips. He squeezes my flesh through my dress and lets out a soft groan before he releases me.
When he gets in, a sports radio program starts playing, but he turns it off. He adjusts the air vents so they’re blowing toward me then reaches for the stick shift. My heart skips a beat. There’s something about seeing a man drive a stick so effortlessly that does it for me.
After he pulls out of the parking lot, I expect him to turn the truck toward the motel. Instead, he turns in the opposite direction.
“Where are we going?” I ask. If it were anybody else, I might be a little bit worried because this man is still a stranger that I just met an hour ago. But Mira knows who he is, and she'd never set me up with anybody that she didn't believe was trustworthy.
“Thought we’d go somewhere fun,” he answers and pulls into a stop in a grassy field. On the opposite side are bright lights, the sounds of merriment, and a Ferris wheel. “It’s a pop-up event, one that’s only here for two days.”
I can’t help grinning. “Prepare to get your ass kicked at Skee-Ball.”
He grins too. “I’m not taking it easy on you just because you’re hot.”
Outside of the truck, he takes my hand, and we walk to the ticket booth. He buys far too many and doesn’t let me pay for any of them.
True to my word, I kick his ass in Skee-Ball.
The final total is six to three, and we only stop playing because there’s a line forming behind us.
After that, we go for balloon darts which is clearly his game.
We grab cotton candy and eat it slowly as we walk down the aisles, chatting about nothing at all.
The entire time he holds my hand, like he doesn’t ever want to let me go.
When we pass the Ferris wheel, he pauses. “Do you want to go up?”
My stomach swoops as I imagine being at the highest point. “Speed is my thing. Heights make me nervous.”
He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be right beside you the whole time.”
I watch the passengers disembarking, listening to the excited murmurs and watching a pair of teenagers who are so clearly trying to pretend they aren’t in love with each other. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try. “Promise?”
“A cowboy never breaks his word,” he says solemnly.
I take a deep breath and nod before I can talk myself out of it. This is my birthday weekend, and I did tell myself that I was going to try new things and get out of my comfort zone.
He pays for our tickets and helps me onto the bench. He checks my seat belt, tugging on it until he’s satisfied that I’m buckled in. He lets his fingers ghost along my hips again. I love the way he can’t seem to stop touching me.
The ride starts, and I make a small noise of surprise.
He slides an arm around my shoulders, plastering us even closer together. “I’ve got you.”
It's the gentle reassurance that has tears unexpectedly pricking at my eyes.
“I used to be fearless,” I whisper, surprised to find the wave of grief when I think about the woman I used to be. She was fearless because she didn’t understand that the pretty future she was building in her head could change with one glance at her husband’s browser history.
“You still are fearless,” he says.
“I doubt myself more now than I ever have before,” I admit.
“But you’re a bad ass. I could tell just by looking at you at the pool.”
I chuckle softly and shake my head. I wish it were that easy, but I don’t tell him that.
Instead, I accept the compliment just as the ride pauses at the peak.
I look out over the dark sky with the moon fuzzy and barely visible in the distance.
City lights glow down below, and for a moment, I feel a million miles away from my problems while I’m right next to the bearded cowboy who thinks I’m hot.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, staring into the night.
“It sure is,” Flint agrees.
I turn to look at him so I can see what he’s looking at, and I'm surprised to find that his gaze is on me.
I glance down at his lips, wondering what he tastes like. I wet my bottom lip and call his name.
His gaze tracks the movement, reminding me of a hungry predator.
“Kiss me.”
He leans forward, our lips connecting. I didn’t know a kiss could be like this.
It’s gentle and tender, like coming home at the end of the day and finding warmth.
He angles my head, his big hand moving me where he wants me as his tongue sweeps into my mouth.
Tingles race down my spine, and my blood heats.
His kiss is safe, and that makes it all the more terrifying.
I kiss him until there’s no more oxygen left between us, until my lungs burn and my heart feels like it will explode if I don’t get air.
I desperately try to remember how to breathe when we part, feeling the slickness between my thighs.
If this is what he can do with a kiss, I’m in for a crazy night.
I call his name when we’re off the Ferris wheel, and I’m stumbling around on legs made of jelly. “Come back to my room with me.”