When we wrap up, I snap my notebook shut and say, “Thank you so much for doing this.”
He shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck, that easy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“No need to thank me. I think what you’re doing is real important. Print’s a dying artform.” Then—casually, like he’s asking about the weather—“Would you like to get dinner with me? There’s a great steakhouse in the Stockyards.”
My heart skips.
I smile, trying not to show how much that simple question just shook me. “I’d love to. But I should change first.”
“Where you staying?”
I rattle off the name of the boutique hotel. He nods, thumbs hooking into the belt loops of his jeans.
“See you at seven, then.”
And just like that, he’s gone. Back into the dust and golden light like some cowboy fever dream, leaving me standing beside a trailer with my jaw on the floor and butterflies rioting in my stomach.
As soon as I’m alone, I let out a silent scream, fists curled at my sides like I’m trying to contain a lightning bolt.
Wait.
Thisisa date, right? Like, I’m not imagining the intention? The smile? The offer to pick me up?
I grab my phone and fire off a text like my life depends on it.
Tish Garcia
I NEED HELP. SOS!!
She replies in under three seconds.
What’s going on? Call me!
I don’t hesitate. I hit call.
“Hello?” she says, voice already crackling with energy.
“I just finished interviewing Nash Kimzey,” I blurt. “He was so sweet and smart and he made me laugh and then he asked me to dinner. He’s picking me up at seven and I said yes but—Tish. It’s a date, right? I’m not imagining this?”
There’s a pause. Then her voice goes a little shrill. “Oh my god. I just looked him up. He’s like a walking sex dream!”
“I know! But is it a date?”
“It’s definitely a date. And if you don’t wear something that saysride me, cowboy, I will personally fly to Texas and style you myself.”
I laugh, loud and full and real.
“Babe, get off here and get ready,” Tish says, practically vibrating through the phone. “Send me pics when you’re done!”
I’m still grinning like an idiot as I hang up, phone clutched in my hand.
And that’s exactly when I plow straight into a wall of muscle and cologne. Will steadies me automatically, his hands brushing my arms before I pull back.
“Guessing you had a good day?” he asks, the corner of his mouth lifting.
Heat prickles across my skin for a very different reason now. “It was great. I need to head back to the hotel.”
His brow lifts, eyes narrowing just slightly like he’s waiting for the rest of the story.
