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)
But I still say nothing.
Why am I protecting the time we spent together?
It’s not like he will hop on a plane and surprise me just because we kissed in the middle of the road at four o’clock in the morning. I mean, maybe if this were the movies, a romance comedy or even a dramedy. But it’s not. This is real, and my life doesn’t work like that.
I once heard to never meet your idols. It will only disappoint you.
Is there a phrase about hooking up with crushes? I could really use the advice since it was better than I ever imagined, and now I’m expected to live life like it never happened.
Yeah, it’s too soon. Too raw. My thoughts are unable to wrap around why my heart is so involved when it was only supposed to be a little fun.
This is too personal to talk about just yet, so I hook my arm with hers and redirect her down the sidewalk. Without pressuring me, she says, “There will be other men, better ones, the kind that call you babe and then stay.” She stops and looks at me. “Forget him, Chris. It was a fluke that we even saw him. Lightning doesn’t strike twice.”
“You’re probably right.” I know she is. Tagger and I were lightning striking at the right time and place. We couldn’t predict that sparks would fly in the aftermath. That he had the same idea, the same urge and craving, to drive over to see me one last time before leaving . . . Those sparks were fireworks. And then we left the door cracked open, inserting hope where it doesn’t belong. The thing is, he’s not here to walk through it. “I know you are,” I add as we start walking again. “I need to get my head out of the clouds before I waste my life waiting for something that can never happen.”
Her arm comes around my shoulders, and she hums. “Always here for you.”
“Thanks.” Starting now, I refuse to lose more time to a daydream. I put on a smile that feels more natural with each passing second. “As for you, who’d you go home with from Whiskey’s?”
“It’s a sad tale as old as time.” She laughs. “I went home alone, crawled into my pajamas, and watched reruns of The Golden Girls until I fell asleep. Exciting? Nah. But I needed the rest, so it’s all good. You got home alright?”
“Got home safe and sound.” Though the image of his taillights disappearing into the night still plagues me.
“I was hoping you’d have a good story to share. Like he kissed you because he couldn’t resist you any longer. Or confessed under a full moon that he’s always loved you.” She shrugs. “A girl can dream for the big romantic gesture.”
“A girl can dream, but this is real life. You know my family and what they’re capable of. If they get their way, I’ll never date anyone, much less get married.” The realization that there is no winning in this situation with Tagger has me adding, “If they found out Tagger even glanced my way, we’d be attending his funeral.”
“Stop living your life to please them.”
I turn back to see her poised on the sidewalk with her brows cinched in irritation. “Trust me, Laur, it’s not about pleasing them. It’s about the first and only man I’ve ever felt connected to living an entirely separate life in another universe. We might as well be living on parallel timelines. I doubt we’ll ever cross paths again, and if we do, it will be as friends and only friends.”
With my truck parked nearby, I signal it. “I should get back to the ranch.”
Kind enough to let things slide from here, she says, “Text me later.”
“I will.” I start backward, but ask, “Want to go to Austin this weekend and do some shopping, grab some lunch, and stuff?”
“I’ll get my mom to cover for me.”
She’s the brunette to whatever mess of color I am, the brown eyes to my blue, the yin to my yang, and apparently my rocking chair companion. She deserves better than she gets, like I do. But we’ve become experts at playing the cards we’ve been dealt.
I hustle to the truck, get in, and set the box in the seat next to me. Would I prefer it be Tagger sitting there? I don’t think I’ll ever not want that, but I’ll settle for the biscuits if I have to. And clearly, I do.
CHAPTER 18
Tagger
A month later . . .
I look at Mike, trying to read his expression as he stares across the table at the other attorney. He’s a pro, so he gives nothing away. He says, “I’m going to consult with my client.”
“We’ll give you some privacy,” the other attorney says before standing and pulling Anna’s chair out for her.