5. Chapter 5
Sitting alone in an empty coffee shop on a Thursday afternoon is not what I imagined for a first date. The only reason I’m still waiting is that my friends set it up. At least I know it’s safe and I wasn’t lured here by some dating-app serial killer.
But, come to think of it, the sole barista did disappear a good thirty minutes ago…
What if I didn’t get the location right?
I glance around the quaint coffee shop, a renovated house in a more secluded area of town.
It feels like the kind of hole-in-the-wall place where I’d get the best coffee of my life.
It’s simple. Clean. Homey. I inhale the warm smell of coffee beans in the air as the light above my table flickers.
Or maybe it’s the kind of place where no one would be able to hear me scream.
I shake my head. I need to cool it with the murder-mystery shows.
I’m here for a first date, not my demise. That is, if the man my besties personally selected decides to ever show up.
I glance at my phone. Whoever he is, he’s thirty-six minutes late. I open Mallory’s text and reread it.
MALLORY
Your date is running late, but he’s on his way. Don’t leave!
I set my phone back on the table with a sigh. Why did I agree to this? It was a ludicrous idea to begin with, thinking that twenty questions could lead to falling in love.
The door behind me opens, and I jump in my seat still in my murder-mystery mindset.
“Sorry I’m late.” The words carry a Southern drawl.
I turn and can’t stop my mouth from falling open when I see the man walking toward me. At least I can verify he’s not a serial killer. But he’s also the last person I expected to walk through the doors of this quaint coffee shop for a date with little old me.
“Rhett Hayes.” He extends a hand toward me when he reaches the table, as if I don’t already know who he is.
All of America—no, the whole world—knows him.
The man who has taken the country music industry by storm.
You’d have to have been living under a very large rock the last few years not to hear his hits on the radio or while walking the aisles of a grocery store.
My personal favorite is still his first hit: “Somethin’.
” It was my anthem when it came out. An ode to my string of bad first dates.
A sign that men do exist who want more than a one-night stand.
And now the artist is standing in front of me.
I’ve done hair for countless celebrities and influencers, not to mention the fact that my friend is a pro baseball player and one of my best friends is dating a movie star. But I can truthfully say this is the first time I’ve ever been starstruck.
Well, at least now I know why the rest of the coffee shop is empty. He probably bought out a remote location for our date to avoid the paparazzi.
I shake Rhett’s warm, strong hand and hold on a little longer than necessary. I’m surprised I don’t feel any calluses from all his guitar playing, but who am I kidding? He’s a celebrity; he probably moisturizes like Austin. I shake the thought away.
“Alyssa Cartwright.” I let go of his hand.
Rhett takes the seat across from me and grins. “Mallory has told me so much about you.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “Hopefully nothing too embarrassing.”
He leans back casually in the wooden chair while I shift anxiously in my seat.
If you told me this man had never been nervous a day in his life, I’d believe it.
Everything about his demeanor screams cool, calm, and collected.
“I know all about the time you highlighted your hair with blue Kool-Aid right before school pictures in junior high.”
“Freaking Mallory,” I mutter as my cheeks warm.
“It’s even better considering you’re a hairstylist now, right?” He looks to me for confirmation, and I nod. “What would your fellow stylists say about your Kool-Aid technique?”
“They’d probably stare at me like I lost my mind.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear you’ve moved on to bigger and better things.”
The barista appears beside our table, making me jump again. “Can I get y’all anything to drink?” she asks us, but her attention remains solely on Rhett.
I can’t blame her. He’s the rugged kind of handsome where he looks good without even trying.
His blond hair is messy up top, and his jaw is covered in at least a few days’ worth of stubble.
The whole rugged vibe is pulled together by worn jeans and a blue-and-green flannel that makes his blue eyes pop.
The sleeves of his flannel are even cut off, leaving his toned arms on display.
Rhett smirks like he knows I was staring as he gestures for me to order first.
My cheeks flame hotter as I turn to the barista. Normally, I’d order some kind of lemonade refresher, but their iced coffees look too good to pass up. “I’ll have an iced blueberry cobbler latte, please.”
Rhett orders a flat white, and the barista curtsies to him before leaving to make our drinks.
I bite back a laugh. “Does that happen often?” I ask once she’s out of earshot.
“Being treated like I’m royalty?” He chuckles. “No.”
“Country royalty, maybe.”
Rhett quirks a brow. “Ah, so you know who I am?”
“I do.” My eyes go wide. “Not ‘I do’ like I’m marrying you, but I do know who you are.
I promise I’m not some massive fan.” I pinch my eyes shut.
“That’s not to say that I don’t think your songs are good, because they are.
You’re great. I just meant I’m not some psycho, stalker superfan.
” I press my lips firmly together before I can dig myself into a hole too deep to climb out of.
When I finally meet his gaze again, he’s wearing an amused smirk. “I don’t know. It sounds like you might want to marry me.”
I blow out a breath. “How can you be so chill about everything?”
Rhett shrugs. “Maybe it’s the small-town country boy in me. But that’s really all I am—a country boy who had some luck with his voice and a guitar.”
“Some might call that talent.”
“I call it the unstoppable force that is my manager.”
I laugh and relax a little in my seat. I don’t want to jinx anything, but as far as first dates go, this one seems to be going well—aside from my little word-vomit moment. Conversation flows naturally with Rhett like a stream after days of nonstop rain.
The barista returns with our drinks before slipping away. I take a sip, and it’s divine. The perfect hint of sweet while still being able to taste the espresso.
“I want to apologize again for being late. There’s this kid in Nashville who’s waiting on a heart transplant and had to miss my concert.
He posted a video singing one of my songs, so I thought it would be fun to surprise him in the children’s hospital.
I stayed a little too long and then had to fly here. ”
Normally, I’d think a guy telling me a story like that was full of it. Or that he was trying to make himself sound like some sort of saint. But I don’t feel either of those things from Rhett. Everything about him comes across as genuine, from the way he talks to the soft smile he wears.
So, not only is this man insanely talented, but he talks about his charitable work with humility. He’s the kind of man a girl could dream about settling down with. Maybe the list of twenty questions will help me figure out if he’s that someone for me.
“I can’t fault you for that. I bet that was the best day of his life.”
Rhett runs a hand on the back of his neck. “Nah, it was one of the best of mine, though. Those are the moments I remember forever. Not being on stage but singing in a small room with fans, connecting over music.”
If I wasn’t sitting down, I’d be in need of a fainting couch.
Because how is this real life? He's genuinely easy to talk to—and look at, for that matter. Rhett seems humble for a celebrity, though I guess that makes sense if he’s close with Griffin.
He and Mallory did me a huge favor by pulling the strings so we could meet today.
“That’s beautiful.” I tap my gel manicure on my glass. “And here I was expecting you to say you were late because of traffic.”
He waves off the comment with a dramatic flourish. “I would never keep a beautiful woman waiting for something as ridiculous as traffic.”
I wait for some kind of internal reaction to him calling me beautiful.
But there are no flutters, and my heart remains beating steadily.
As for not making a woman wait because of traffic, I believe him.
Rhett doesn’t seem like the kind of person to keep others waiting, if he can help it.
I like that about him. That he doesn’t think his time is more important than others just because of his celebrity status.
“Of course not,” I say. “Obviously, other cars move out of the way when they see you coming.”
“Exactly.” His sea-blue eyes twinkle with amusement. “You understand.”
I guess now’s as good a time as any to weave in one of the questions to our conversation. “So, tell me. What inspired you to pursue country music?”
His eyes take on a far-off look, filled with nostalgia.
“I was practically born with a guitar in my hands. My parents played country music in our home around the clock, so it’s honestly all I’ve ever known.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Once they learned I had a decent voice, they got me into guitar and vocal lessons. The rest is history.”
I can’t help but smile after hearing the passion in his words. “The world is better for it.”
“Thanks.” He sips his drink. “And what made you want to be a hairstylist?” Rhett shoots me a playful grin. “Please tell me it was the Kool-Aid.”