“Yeah.Shooting things,” I say, and then wince because even I heard what a redneck asshole I sounded like.“I read too.”
“Really?I love to read.What’s your genre?”
“Er ...biographies, books on farming,” I lie.I don’t know why I said that.I don’t care what this woman makes of my reading habits, but I think we both know this isn’t going anywhere.“Listen, you’re real sweet, and all.I’m sure you’re gonna have tons of men lining up to date you once word gets around that there’s fresh meat in town, but I gotta say—”
“Fresh meat?”Her brows shoot into her hairline.
I wipe my face with my napkin.“You know what I mean.”
Her eyes narrow.“No.I don’t.”
“Don’t get me wrong, you’re real nice to look at, but I just don’t think I can be with a woman who doesn’t eat meat.”
“What?”she laughs as if I’m joking.“You have got to be kidding me.”
I just raise my brow and look her dead in the eye.Probably not my finest moment.It’s not even her fault, it’s my sister’s, Mama, Wade, and Wyatt’s for letting Lemon get carried away.Yeah, okay.Maybe it’smyfault for being a pushover where my little sister is concerned.
“You know, everyone talks about how sweet and respectful Texan men are, and so far, that’s been kind of true,” she says, her pretty cheeks turning pink with anger.Uh-oh.“And then ...there’s you.”
“Hey, I just call it like I see it.”I raise my hands in a placating gesture.“I don’t see us being a thing.”
“Well, that’s good.Because I don’t see the word ‘us’ even for one night.You’re the fucking worst.I can’t believe I put on cute panties for this.God.No matter where you go, men are all the damn same.”
“Now hang on a minute,” I protest.“I think you’re getting me all wrong here—”
“Oh no.I know your type all too well, West Winchester.Tell Lemon I hope she’s a better friend than her brother is a date.”
And then, as if the world is in slow motion, she stands up, leans over the table, giving me an eyeful of cleavage, and slaps me across the face.The resounding slap echoes through the restaurant and the whole place turns to look accusingly at me.My date storms out.Every pair of eyes watches me collect myself.Shit.Lemon is going to fucking skin me alive, especially with those pregnancy hormones turning her into something out ofThe Exorcist.
I throw a few bills on the table and stand.Grabbing my hat, I head out and put it on, and then I climb back in my truck and assess the damage to my cheek.Not bleeding, thank God, but there’s a red hand print complete with claw marks from her long fingernails.Jesus.How does she take care of kids like that?
I sit in the cab of my truck and watch people leave the restaurant hand in hand.What the hell is wrong with me?I won’t lie, when I walked in and saw Lainey sitting at that table by herself, I knew we’d both wasted our time.She was a knockout, just not the knockout for me.I didn’t feel a thing when she smiled, or when she leaned in to kiss my cheek in greeting and my hand naturally fell to the small of her back.There was no thrill, no excitement, just ...nothing.Perfunctory politeness that felt all wrong.So what the fuck is wrong with me?
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.All I can smell is Daisy-Mae’s perfume.And that’s the exact moment I realize her sweater is still sitting beside me.I pick up the deep rust wool that reminds me of Texas soil on the ranch, and I bring it to my nose.Damn, that smells good.Like strawberries, flowers, and woman all rolled into one.And suddenly I can think of nothing else.I should run this back to her.Just in case she needs it for the morning.
What the fuck is wrong with you, West?You can’t just drop by Daisy-Mae’s in the middle of the night.I’m sure she’s got more sweaters she can wear.I set the soft wool back on the passenger seat, adjust my fucking boner, and start the engine.I need to take care of this shit before I do something even dumber than upsetting a new friend of Lemon’s on the world’s most disastrous date.
