Page 17 of Mountain Man Bad Boy

“I think I need a man,” I said.

“Hallelujah.” She grinned. “What are you looking for?”

“Um.” I sighed. “He has to have a job.”

“Of course.” Cindy checked off an invisible list over the table. “Handsome, right?”

“Couldn’t hurt,” I said, thinking of Porter.

“Car?” Cindy guessed.

“Sure.” I considered what I really wanted. “Someone who is sober, who doesn’t need alcohol for a good time.”

“Hmm.” Cindy pondered that one. “Understandable. But you’re not going to find that guy at a bar.”

“No, I’m not.” I pulled out my phone. “I have this dating app, but I haven’t used it in forever.”

“Which one?” She scooted her chair closer so she could see my screen.

“Web Love.” I flicked it open to show her my profile.

“Oh, no.” She snatched the phone from my hand. “That’s the worst app.”

“It was free,” I muttered.

“I know.” She laughed. “Let me guess, all you’re getting are dick pics?”

I shot her a fearsome gaze, hoping she would tone it down. What if someone were to walk in? I managed a very tense “Yes” before claiming my phone back.

“You have to get on this one.” She retrieved my phone from my hand and maneuvered straight to the app store. She selected HooCup, an app with a little cupid and heart, and passed the phone back to me. “Password.”

“I don’t know…” I hesitated, not really wanting to install another dating app.

“Trust me,” Cindy insisted, “HooCup has quality guys.”

“Really? With a name like ‘hookup’?” I challenged her.

“Just download it and open it, then you’ll see,” she encouraged me.

I relented, typing in my password and allowing the app to download. Cindy stole the device back and sped through the opening sequence until we could look at pictures of men. The first one was a handsome cowboy in a Stetson hat with a Tom Selleck mustache.

“Mustache,” I said.

She swiped left. Another well-tanned farmworker smiled out from the frame, this one blond and blue-eyed. I shook my head.

“What’s wrong with him?” Cindy asked.

He wasn’t Porter, but I couldn’t say that. Instead, I made up some excuse. “He’s probably an alcoholic.”

“You can’t tell just by looking at someone,” Cindy argued.

“Next,” I requested.

She shrugged and swiped left. The next available man wore a suit and tie, with a nice smile that made me think he had something to hide. Despite the fact that I really did want someone to share my evenings with, I knew I wasn’t ready to go out on a date with a stranger.

“You just have to relax,” Cindy said, sensing my negativity. “You’ll have fun, I promise. And no dick pics.”

I laughed, turning around just as our boss walked in the door. I snatched my phone back and shoved it into my pocket, without even shutting down the app. Cindy began digging into her meal as if nothing were wrong. I felt my face go hot and washed my shame down with a diet cola. If only Porter wasn’t off-limits, that would solve all my problems. Problems, I reminded myself, that began and ended with him.

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