He gives me a blank look. “You have a pig?”
I wave him off. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.” He doesn’t need to hear about Winston.
He smirks. “So, no plans then? There’s line dancing at Herds. You interested?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. Is this what Marlowe meant about focusing more on myself? Taking a night to go out and have some fun—let loose a little.
It had been ages since I’d been to Herds.
“Does Paula still run the place?” I ask.
“Who else?”
I shift, suddenly self-conscious. “Line dancing sounds fun. It’s been a minute. I might be a little rusty.”
“I can teach you.” He winks, and I let out a breath.
“Uh, yeah, sure. I’d love to.”
“Are you staying at the ranch?”
I nod.
“Great. I’ll pick you up at six.”
Oh, this was adatedate. I tried not to blanch at the thought.
“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”
I steer my cart around him, my stomach flipping with nerves. I’d never had a one-night stand, but maybe that's exactly what I need.
Casual.
A little irresponsible.
A bit wild.
Who Was This Girl
Tripp
Iwalk into Herds, the best of the small selection of local bars, determined to put Quinn out of my mind.
When I stopped to say hi this morning, she’d been wearing cutoff shorts that showed off her perfect legs with an old sweatshirt thrown on top. She’d looked cute as hell with no makeup on and her hair thrown up haphazardly in a knot on the top of her head.
I’d done my damnedest not to stare while I was working, but I’d stolen too many glimpses of her today. Watching her kneel in the grass, tugging weeds from Grams’ flower beds. Catching little peeks of the bare skin right above her navel when she’d shed her sweatshirt to reveal a cropped T-shirt.
And now here I was, nursing the mental image of her legs when I should’ve been nursing a beer.
The conversation we’d had the other day about her ex hadn’t helped.
Single.
Available.
Off-limits.
I shouldn’t even be thinking about it—shouldn’t be curious in the least.
