I've been staring at this text message for probably an hour.
I should just send it. I already typed it out.
It's not even that big of a deal.
It's an invitation to dinner, that's all. At my place. Alone. With Wayne.
I groan in annoyance as my thoughts spiral again. I'll probably wear a path clean through my floor with all this pacing, but it helps me think.
It's been two weeks since Wayne took me out to dinner. It’s been four days since he pulled me into a stall and kissed me like he was starving for it while I was at the ranch. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.
About him.
I've been running all over town for work pretty much nonstop, but every time I'm at the ranch, he’s around. He's not even being annoying or getting in my way like he was before, however. Sometimes he brings me coffee, and sometimes he just chats with me while I do basic checks on the heifers. He just makes a point of being nearby, and weirdly, it's been really nice to spend more time with him.
He texts me often when I'm not there, sending me updates and occasional selfies, asking what I'm up to. I get good morning and good night texts every day, and I'm starting to get used to it. I’d even say I’m starting tolikeit, though I don’t want to admit it.
Wayne was a shithead when we were younger — not that this stopped me pining for him, of course — but I always knew he had a softer side. Ever since our date, I've been getting to see that soft side increasingly often. He’s sweet and thoughtful, and as I get to know him better, I like him more and more.
He's asked me to dinner a few more times, even breakfast once, but I’ve been so busy I’ve had to turn him down every time. Amazingly, this hasn’t even seemed to bother him. He’s like an entirely different person.
If I'm honest, it hasn't just been my schedule that has me turning him down, though. I don't want to date playboy Wayne Riggs. I want something serious with someone who cares about and respects me. I want to know that Wayne wants more than an easy lay and someone to keep him company during this supposed “vacation” he’s on back home.
He makes me feel light and bubbly like no one else, but I know better than to run into things without thinking them through.
Here’s the truth. Deep down, part of me is just scared that all of this has been some sort of long-running deception on his part. That maybe he’s just acting this way to get me, for some egotistical reason, and once we sleep together again, he’ll revert right back. The thought of inviting him into my home is scary. I've made this spacemine, and I don't let people who would disrespect me into my home. I don't think this new Wayne would do that, but the fear of it lingers bitterly.
Fuck it.
I've thought about this long enough. I hit send, fling my phone down, and bolt for the other room to try to distract myself.
My phone pings moments after I leave the room. I resist the urge to run back in and check it for a whopping two whole seconds.
Wayne: Dinner sounds great. I'll bring some wine. Red or white?
I text him back to bring white and immediately start panicking.
What the fuck am I doing? There’s no way that this is a good idea. What am I even going to make? I can feed myself, but it’s not like I’m a great cook. Italian is always a good choice. I can make pasta of some sort.
I just need to breathe.
I don’t doa great job of that in the two hours it takes Wayne to show up. I flit from room to room, organizing trinkets and brushing dust off picture frames just to keep myself busy.
I haven’t invited someone home in years. Even my most recent ex never came over here. I always went to his place.
The knock on the door makes me jump, but I don’t allow myself to overthink. I walk up and open the door, hoping my smile doesn’t betray my nerves.
Wayne has a black quarter zip sweater and jeans on. His hair is styled into loose waves, and he’s smiling at me like he actually missed me. The sight almost knocks me off my feet.
“I hope Moscato is okay. It’s all we had at the house.” His smile flickers into something hungry for a split-second as he looks over me. “You look amazing.”
I’m not wearing anything fancy, just my usual tank top and jeans, but that makes his compliment feel even more special.
I invite him in, and I bring the wine to the fridge so it can chill for a bit. Wayne makes himself comfortable, leaning against my kitchen counter and looking almost like he belongs here. That thought scares me a bit.
“I was thinking…” Wayne says, a soft smile on his face. “I know you’ve got work this weekend, but do you think you could keep your schedule clear for next Saturday?”
My heart pounds in my chest. It’s been a long time since a man actually paid attention when I talked, and having Wayne of all people remember my schedule makes me feel like I’m on cloud nine.
