Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
I smile, floating on air from my fantasy coming true. Though my fantasies go a lot deeper than babe, and his mouth always goes lower . . . If I were being truthful with myself.
My dad trails me inside, shutting the doors behind him. The crunch of the old lock set in place as I head for the stairs. He says, “Tagger Grange has known you since you were knee-high to a ladybug. He isn’t someone to be mortified over.”
I stop with my hand holding onto the oak newel at the foot of the stairs. With one foot resting on the bottom step, I look back. “I’m not mortified over anything Tag did. I’m mortified that at twenty-six years old, my dad waited up for me.”
“A dad can’t worry about his daughter?”
I step up and turn all the way around to face him. “You can worry about me, Dad, but scaring off my dates is a whole other story.”
Toeing his boots off by the door, he says, “Good thing you weren’t on a date, then.” The long pause between us has him looking up at me with one boot still stuck on his foot. “You weren’t on a date with Tagger Grange, were you?” The concern riddling his forehead is evident as it pinches.
I drag my teeth over my bottom lip, looking down, and then shake my head. “No. I was only making a point.” Every part of that reply feels wrong, like a lie. “I’m going to bed.”
“Sweet dreams, dear daughter.”
“Sweet dreams, Dad.” I drag myself upstairs, innately aware of every creak in the hardwoods and avoid those planks like I did in high school. I got busted once or twice and learned my lesson. I needed to be quieter. The hell to pay the next day, my chores doubling, might have also played a part.
I’m old enough not to get in trouble like that, but the stealthy path I climb comes naturally from memory.
In my room, I strip off my sandals and dress and slip on a roomy T-shirt I won years ago at the rodeo. It’s too early to go to bed, though I could probably fall asleep after the long day and glasses of wine. I text Lauralee real quick:
He called me babe.
Who?
She’s faster than I am.
I take a breath, my body relaxing as I perch on the end of the mattress.
Tagger.
That one word has my phone ringing the next second. I laugh when I answer, “I can die happy.”
“No. No. Not yet. Before you die,” my best friend says, rushing her words, “you need to hit rewind and tell me how you got from the he never knew I existed stage to calling you babe.”
I grin because if the roles were reversed, I’d want the same. “It’s not as salacious as you make it sound, Laur.”
“Salacious? You’re the one dying happy like you just jumped the man on top of the hood of his truck. Whoa.” She takes a deep breath. “That escalated quickly.” Tipsy enough to think it was pretty dang funny, I giggle while she loops the mental track of her mind to get back in this race. “Anyway, stop beating around the bush and give me the good stuff, Chris.”
My eyebrows shoot up from the demand, but I won’t lie, I’m just as giddy to share with her. “My goodness.” Of course, I still must give her a hard time. “Patience apparently isn’t a virtue in your book—”
“We already know this,” she says with a laugh. “Now go on.”
I wave my free hand in front of me like a maestro, and say, “I shall continue now. His son invited me to dinner at the Granges, and I went. I also let him drive—”
“His six-year-old?” Her voice pitches.
“No, silly.” I roll my eyes. “Tagger. Which means—”
“He had to drive you home? This story keeps getting better and better.”
With a shrug, I reply, “I drank some wine—”
“Oh no.” Her concern wavers through the line. “You and wine don’t mix, Chris.”
Slightly offended, I flip my hair over my shoulder. “I’ll have you know that me and wine do just fine.”
“Mm-hmm. Sure.”
“I rhymed,” I say, proud of myself.
“You sure did.”
“Anywho, I had a great time. The food was great, the company even better. We laughed like we’d been friends forever. And it was good to catch up with his folks again.”
“Good to hear. Good to hear. Now get to it, girl, because I know he wasn’t calling you babe in front of his mother. So you’re in a car at night with fifteen to twenty minutes to spend alone together. Sounds like the beginning of a fairy-tale ending if you ask me.” She giggles, which causes my own laughter to bubble up.
“Which is why I’m not asking you.” I drop my hand to the bed and huff. “I’m way too practical to get caught up in that business. It’s as if you’ve forgotten we live in the middle of Texas with the slimmest selection of men in the entire universe.”