Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
“A cosmo.” My eyes meet Debbie’s. She has a straight poker face, whereas I have to swallow a sip of my drink as fast as possible in fear I’ll choke with laughter. JW would never order a fruity drink. He’s a beer drinker through and through. The Johnson brothers have the same taste when it comes to alcohol. Beer in the form of Snake River Pale Ale. Only Trey likes to dabble in the hard liquor though he could pull the others in with a bet.
“Of course. I’ll be right back with your order. The menus are on the table. Today’s chef specials are mini crab cakes, cowboy lobster bisque, and bison flank steak.” My mouth waters just thinking of that cowboy lobster bisque along with their wedge salad. I could also eat my weight in their warm bread lathered in butter.
“So, Maeve, tell me about yourself.” Clayton picks up the conversation once Debbie leaves the table. The only problem is we’ve done the small talk via the dating app. He knows I’m a baker. I know he’s a real estate agent, lives a few towns over, and is looking for a wife to settle down with. Yep, the app is nothing if not thorough.
“You already know I’m a baker. I own a bakery and enjoy coming up with new desserts. I have two older sisters, and I’ve grown up here in Arrowleaf.” Small talk is not my forte. I’m more of a sit-back-and-observe type of person. A lot can be said with little to no words. It’s others who feel they need to disturb the comfortable quiet with talking.
“Any chance you’d be willing to move away?” I slide my drink toward me. Something tells me I’m going to need more than one to get through this dinner.
“Nope, I’ll never leave Arrowleaf. This is my home. My business is here, and so is my family.” My lips wrap around the cute straw Prime Cuts uses with their drinks. Their attention to detail, good food, and excellent service makes the restaurant one of the busiest in our town.
“Interesting,” Clayton says, moving on to something else. I nod my head at appropriate times. Then my gaze catches the man who just walked through the door. Is Mercury in Gatorade or something? He’s tall and built from his time working on the ranch and farriering horses. His arm muscles are literal porn, and my god, his back… I’ve only seen him in a tightly fitted cotton shirt. I can’t even imagine him without one. Okay, fine, I can and I have though I’m sure it didn’t do him any justice.
Tonight, JW is wearing a pearl snap button-down shirt, jeans, boots, and a black cowboy hat. A far cry from the man who’s currently yammering about real estate booming around our state and how he’s selling more property than ever. Clayton doesn’t have my attention at all. My eyes are solely focused on a certain cowboy, and when our gazes clash, it’s not me who shies away this time; it’s JW. I lose his deep sky-blue eyes. While I’ve tried to shut down what I’ve felt for the big jerk, the task seems impossible. It’s clear Clayton won’t be the one to help keep my mind off JW. I’m not sure anyone can.
“Excuse me, Clayton, I’ll be right back. I’ve got to use the restroom.” I stand up, and Clayton does too. He has manners and seems like a nice guy, minus the fact he’s not JW. He’d be perfect for someone who isn’t me.
“Of course.”
I grab my purse, knowing I’ll be making a phone call to my sisters. I’m going to need them to help me escape this farce of a date and these damn feelings I have for JW Johnson.
ONE
JW
Present Day
“Look what I have!” Juniper’s voice carries through the house, the clatter of the back door sounding behind her. Everyone uses the back door off the kitchen. Not even sure the front door is ever unlocked anymore.
“Stay out of that box. You know who that’s for.” My ears perk up. No damn way Mae sent over cinnamon rolls for me.
“Damn, what does a guy have to do to get his own box of cookies?” Trey says. I can hear the smack as someone slaps his hand away. Case, Ryland’s boy, is sitting up on the floor beside me playing. When he takes ahold of your finger to pull you down, you do what he wants. In today’s case, it’s playing with Lincoln logs. Every time I’m over, there’s a new addition to his toy box. This one has Mom written all over it. She’ll hit up a thrift store, a garage sale, or head into the bigger city and wreak havoc on their credit card. Secretly, I think she is a little peeved that her first grandchild no longer lives with her anymore.