“Really?”
He grabbed his jacket off the back of a barstool. “Yeah, really. I’ll even throw in the good cheese.”
I nodded, feeling slightly better. Doug did wine tastings at his farm in the summer. He was a beekeeper and made his own goat cheese and honey. He actually knew how to put together a nice spread.
“Pick her flowers,” Liz said. “Women like effort.”
I nodded. Effort. Got it.
With that figured out, I ran home.
Three hours felt like a lot, but it wasn’t. I had to open the house up and get the best bedroom ready. I cleaned out my truck, which sounded like less work than it ended up being. I don’t think I’d ever washed it—it was a work truck almost as old as I was. I cleaned my loft, my bathroom. I had to feed Chloe and change her pajamas. By the time I got in the shower, I had thirty minutes left.
I was so damn nervous. I felt like I was getting a second shot at—I didn’t even know what.
She sent me a “be there in five” text, and I came outside with Hunter and grabbed Chloe from her pen. I crouched in the driveway and looked my dog in the eye. “Okay, buddy. No more messing around, got it? No jumping—hey! Look at me. NO JUMPING. You see how good Chloe is? This is the kind of energy I need you to bring to this situation.”
Hunter leaned over and licked Chloe on the nose, and she made a cute little bleat noise.
“And do your business in the woods. We’ve got a whole forest. You don’t need to do that in front of the garage. Best behavior.”
Hunter didn’t look like he had any idea what I was talking about and started scratching his neck. His collar made a jingling full rotation, and then he stopped and blinked at me. His ear was inside out.
Hunter was a six-year-old retired hunting dog I’d gotten from a rescue. I’d only had him three months. He was a Wirehaired Pointing Griffon. He looked perpetually confused and was the worst listener I’d ever met—which was weird, because the previous owner told the rescue he was fully trained. Hunting dogs were strong-willed by design, but this one…
I eyed him. “Some help you’re gonna be,” I mumbled.
I heard the sound of wheels on gravel and stood. My heart started to pound.
I had a quick second of what-if. What if the chemistry was gone or the attraction didn’t feel the same, or I’d built her up in my head and she wasn’t like I remembered?
And the second I saw her, I knew I hadn’t imagined a thing.
Chapter 8
Alexis
I’d called him. I’d called him, and I was going back down there.
What in the world was I doing?
It was such a spontaneous thing, I didn’t even really think it through. One minute I was standing in my living room, debating what to order from Grubhub for dinner, and the next I was Googling the VFW in Wakan and calling the number.
I had no idea if he’d actually be there. He was. And the second I heard his voice, I knew I was spending the night in a bed that wasn’t my own.
I’d scoured my closet for the right thing to wear. I checked the weather in Wakan. It was sixty today, so I picked jeans, some plaid rain boots that could be hosed off if I stepped in poop again, and a flannel with a white tank top underneath it. I looked exactly like someone trying to look woodsy.
I debated calling Gabby to ask her for help with what to wear, but then I’d have to explain why, and I wasn’t ready for that talk at all.
Daniel was not someone I could introduce to my friends. Ever.
They would never get it. Frankly I barely got it.
My set of friends didn’t know people with tattoos. Or beards. Or goats. Gabby’s husband, Philip, was some big money manager guy, and Jessica’s husband, Marcus, was a hotshot lawyer. Daniel was too young and too different from the men they were used to. He was too different from the men I was used to.
Maybe that was the allure…
There was definitely something very non-demanding about him. I didn’t feel like I had to summon stimulating conversation or dazzle him. And he was so fun. Neil would have never hustled his friends in a bar.
Neil would have been horrified to be in that bar.
I packed some silky sleeping shorts and a matching black tank top. Not too sexy, but definitely not frumpy. I didn’t want to look like I was coming there solely to seduce him—which I totally was—but I also didn’t want to look like I wasn’t making an effort.
I showered, shaved my legs, did my hair and makeup, packed a quick overnight bag, and headed south before I had time to talk myself out of it.