Chapter 1 #2
Then a low whistle cut through the silence.
The whistler in question sat two stools over.
And, hot damn, he was a tall cup of trouble.
Broad shoulders, rippling pecs, and a face that looked like it had been carved specifically to make women get the vapors.
Then he tipped his cowboy hat with the kind of slow grin that made her want to sink straight into the floorboards.
"Well now." His voice was lazy and flat, true Montanan. "Far as confessions go, that one beats 'I stole a candy bar in second grade.'"
Her cheeks burned. "I meant—I didn't mean—forget I said that. Well, that she said that." Vivi held up the phone in question.
"Can't," he said, his grin deepening until two dimples appeared. His gaze dropped to her designer cowgirl boots, with price tag still attached. "See, Boots, some things a man just feels obligated to rectify. And lucky for you, I'm a fixer by nature."
"Funny, Cowboy. You look more like the breaking-things type," she volleyed back, surprised by the bite in her own voice.
Vivi was a people-pleaser by nature. It went so far as apologizing to mannequins when she bumped into them.
She lived in constant fear of disappointing anyone.
Which meant she said yes more than she should, swallowed no like a bitter pill, and smiled even when her cheeks ached.
But with this man, her polite filter seemed to be on the fritz.
He chuckled—a dangerously low rumble that curled under her skin. "Guess you'll just have to stick around long enough to find out which."
Again, her hackles raised in a way even Lewis couldn’t stir in her. There was something about this man that seemed to bring out her worst. She didn't like it.
She snatched her purse off the bar and stood to leave. Only her phone felt heavy in her hand.
This was only her second task, and she was already considering giving up. Just like that. One embarrassing moment and she was ready to throw in the towel. She heard her mother's voice, clear as if she were standing beside her.
Honey, this isn't about running away—it's about finally giving yourself permission to stop living for everyone else.
This is your chance to step outside that little box you've built, to get uncomfortable, and to dig deep until you figure out who you really are.
And who you want to be. For once in your life, be bold.
Vivi sat back down and turned to Einstein Brows, who looked like Paul Bunyan's bigger twin brother—logs for arms and a beer belly that threatened to escape his Grateful Dead shirt.
"Excuse me," she said, sticking out her hand.
The bar stool groaned under his weight as he turned to face her.
"I'm Vivi, and I have to tell three different secrets to three different strangers.
Secrets I've never told anyone." She took a breath.
"I once ate an entire Costco sheet cake by myself.
In one sitting. Chocolate with raspberry filling.
No shame." She put her fingers a centimeter apart. "Well. A little shame."
“No shame in that,” Einstein said.
"What's your third secret?" Cowboy said from beside her. He'd taken it upon himself to scoot closer.
"What?"
"You said you need to tell three different secrets to three different strangers. What's your third?"
"I already told you one."
"No, you told the entire bar one. Would you prefer to do that again?"
Vivi glanced at her watch. Twenty seconds and counting.
"It will be so much fun," Paul Bunyan said, standing. "Can everyone quiet down? New York here has a confession for us all."
The room fell silent once again and Vivi’s tongue went dry.
"Spill, spill, spill," Einstein said—and the shop erupted with cheers. Before she knew it the entire bar had joined in the chant. Except Cowboy, who remained leaning against the bar, arms crossed, jaw tight. His gaze never left her, his expression layered with a stubborn, possessive edge she hadn’t even noticed yet.
Elephant poop coffee still on her breath, she stood.
A few whistles came from the peanut gallery. She cleared her throat and waited for silence. Then mumbled, "I accidentally flashed a whole restaurant because my skirt got caught on the chair. I stood, my dress stayed."
"Can you speak up, honey?" Paul Bunyan said.
Vivi cleared her throat and said in a raised whisper, “I accidentally—”
"So we can all hear you," Cowboy said.
Taking a breath, Vivi blurted out, "I accidentally flashed an entire restaurant because my skirt got caught on the chair. I stood, my dress stayed."
Einstein raised his hand. "I'm Spud. I've been married twice, divorced once, and married my last wife’s cousin by accident. Still counts."
"That's, um, very brave of you to admit," Vivi said, keeping a perfectly straight face.
Another hand went up from behind the bar—a young woman in her early twenties wearing an oversized hoodie, pink-highlighted hair, a nose ring, and a glossy pin that read Barista of my own life. "I'm Annabelle."
"Hi, Annabelle," everyone called, like this was an AA meeting.
"Sometimes I sneak chocolate chips into regular drip coffee when no one's looking."
"Riveting," Jo deadpanned. Annabelle went back to wiping down the counter.
"Not as good as mine," said a handsome man in a ballcap. "I once told a woman I loved her, and she left me standing at the altar in Vegas." His eyes found Jo's, and when he finally smiled it was slow and careful—like warmth was something he'd had to relearn. "What's your secret, Blue?"
"I once shanked a guy who asked me to spill my secrets," Jo said, and before Vivi knew what was happening, people all around the bar were spilling secrets to each other.
A small smile tugged at her lips. She'd done this. She'd been bold, taken one big step forward, and it had sparked something. Maybe there was something to this Glow Up app after all.
If only it were that easy to fix her own life.
Cowboy leaned against the bar, one eyebrow quirked. "Want to know my secret?"
Vivi folded her arms. "Pass."
He chuckled in that low rumble that made her cheeks betray her with a faint blush. "Could be fun."
"Fun?" Nothing about sharing a secret with this man sounded fun. Secrets meant intimacy, and the last thing she needed with a man—especially this man—was intimacy. "No thanks."
His mischievous grin widened, the amusement dancing in his eyes impossible to ignore. "Suit yourself, Boots. But don't come screaming at me when you walk out of here with those peach panties stuck to your ass."
With a squeak, Vivi spun around like a dog chasing its tail.
There it was. Her neon peach thong clinging to her backside by static electricity and pure, unadulterated karma.
"Mom, this is a mistake. The website lied. I swear the photos were taken in a parallel universe where ranches are charming and smell like cookies."
"Oh, honey." Gloria's voice came through the video call warm and steady. "It's not a mistake. It's rustic. It has character. You just need to give it a chance."
Vivi's eyebrows shot up. "Character? It looks like someone tried to build a horror movie set and ran out of budget.
The ad promised a rustic ranch getaway—and I quote—the perfect place to recalibrate and find inspiration and healing among the sweeping acres of wildflowers and wildlife.
There's a judgmental goat, a suspicious patch of mud, and a fence, that if I lean on might trigger the next apocalypse. "
She flipped the phone so her mom could take in the full horror.
Gloria laughed the kind of laugh that made Vivi want to scream and smile at the same time.
"You've spent your entire life bending yourself into knots to make other people happy.
Chasing someone else's dreams, trying to be the solution to every problem.
When was the last time you did something just for you? "
Vivi's stomach twisted. She wanted to snap back—I don't have time to figure myself out, I'm busy surviving this place—but the truth gnawed at her. "I don't know."
"Exactly," Gloria said, her voice like a gentle hug. "That's why you're there. Not for the barn, or—whatever that shadow is behind the shed. You're there to figure out who you are when nobody else is around."
Vivi exhaled, eyeing the pile of hay and the suspiciously watchful rooster. "Mom, I feel like my entire identity just got kicked by a mule and left to ferment in the mud."
"When your father left, I felt the same way.
Like my whole identity was wrapped up in being a wife and a mother.
I spent so much time becoming the woman everyone else needed that I forgot how to be the woman I needed.
" Gloria paused. "I don't want that for you.
Now, sleep on it. One night. Tomorrow you can make decisions with a clearer head and maybe a little less manure on your shoes. "
Vivi glanced around the ranch again—her suitcase wheels caked with mud, her new boots already scuffed beyond saving. "Fine. One night. But if I wake up tomorrow and the rooster has formed a militia, I'm leaving."