Page 4 of My Redneck Baby Daddy

He voiced sounded genuinely surprised. “You're thirty-two."

A soft sigh escaped my lips and as I glanced around The Barn Yard that suddenly seemed way too packed with people. “I’m aware of my age, Bobby Jo."

"And nobody has ever kissed you?"

"Why does everyone repeat it like I'm a medical anomaly?"

My face burned, but he wasn't laughing at me. He looked stunned in a way that had nothing to do with mockery.

"Rue," he said quietly, "you're beautiful."

The wine, the string lights, and the way he said my name made a terrible idea feel like an excellent one. I looked at his mouth, and I lifted my chin, and I said the words before I could stop them.

"You could kiss me."

Chapter 2

Bobby Jo

Rue hadn’t taken her eyes away from my mouth.

All five feet of her, glasses sliding down her nose, wine flush sitting high on her cheeks, and she had just told me I could kiss her like she was offering me the last fry off her plate. I’d spent the whole night trying not to think about her mouth, keeping my eyes well above her collarbone.

Then she’d gone and put it on the table between us.

Jesus Franklin Christ, I thought.

"No."

Her eyebrows lifted. "No?"

"Not tonight."

"Oh."

Something in her face fell, and it hit me harder than I expected. She sat back and reached for her wine glass, found it empty, and set it down again like it had personally insulted her.

"Rue."

She held up a hand. "It's fine."

"That didn't sound fine."

"I have survived thirty-two years without being kissed, Bobby Jo. I am sure I will survive another evening."

"That ain't why I said no."

"You don't have to explain."

"I'm gonna anyway." I leaned forward and waited until she looked at me. "You've had three glasses of wine. If I kiss you tonight, you wake up tomorrow wondering if you actually wanted it or if the wine wanted it, and then you're gonna feel some kind of way about me. I'd rather you feel some kind of way about me for a reason I earned."

She blinked at me through those glasses, and for a second I thought she might argue.

"I know what I want," she said.

"Then ask me sober."

I paid the check while she was still working on a response, and when I offered to drive her home, she informed me that she was perfectly capable, and then she stood up and grabbed the back of her chair.