Page 2 of Possessive Cowboy

“I know. And I don’t blame you. But can you do me a favor tonight?”

“Sure,” I say.

“Try to fake it until you make it. Okay? Even if you don’t feel confident, just pretend,” Abby says. “Sit up straight, look this guy in the eye, and play the part of a confident, sexually empowered woman who knows what she wants. You’re an actress tonight, just playing the role of someone else. You’re not Raina tonight, you’re Bridget. Remember?”

I cringe, remembering the fake name I used on the app. Why Bridget? Because I downloaded the app while watching Bridget Jones’s Diary and binging chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.

You know. Typical post-breakup behavior. Except my breakup was over a year ago and for some reason I’m still in a rut in my life, just like Abby said.

“Right. You’re Bridget tonight,” Abby continues firmly. “Your alter ego. And Bridget is confident. Sexually empowered. Not afraid to go after what she wants. Got it?”

“Got it,” I say faintly.

“Now, get off the phone with me. You don’t want to be hunched over talking to your friend on the phone when he gets here. Hang up, order a drink, try to act like you’re having a good time in a bar.”

“I never have a good time in bars,” I reply. “I hate bars.”

“Yeah? Well, Bridget loves bars. And she loves meeting random hot guys in bars and taking them back to a hotel for a one-night stand.”

“Okay, okay,” I reply. “Damn, you’re really serious about this Bridget thing, aren’t you?”

“Yes I am,” Abby says firmly. “You have the rest of your life to be Raina. Resume your life as Raina on Monday. But tonight? You downloaded that app for a reason, didn’t you? Don’t forget that. Don’t back down. You always chicken out. Not tonight. Okay?”

“Okay but -”

The phone cuts out before I can finish my sentence. Guess she wasn’t kidding when she said I need to get off the phone.

I glance at the time on the screen. It’s now twenty past ten. I check my Hush notifications and see I’ve got a message from Maverick. My heart drops, preparing to see a last-minute cancellation. But when I pull up the message, the little blue text bubble tells me Maverick is only a few minutes away and is apologetic about his lateness.

This softens me a little. He’s late, but at least he bothered to check in. That counts for something. Right?

“Are you sure I can’t get you a drink?” the female bartender asks, coming my way and nodding at my untouched glass of water.

I think of Abby’s command that I fake it until I make it.

What would Bridget do?

“Actually yes,” I say. “Two shots of tequila.”

The bartender nods and seconds later two shot glasses full of the fragrant liquid are in front of me. Before I can think about it too hard, I down the first shot and grimace as the liquid burns my throat and nostrils, making my eyes water.

Okay. That wasn’t too bad.

I consider the second shot for a moment before picking it up. I’m lifting it to my lips, bracing myself for the second shot of burning liquid, when I feel a large, heavy hand on the back of my neck.

“You might want to slow down,” says a deep, rumbling voice. “By the look on your face, I have a feeling you’re not used to that much liquor.”

2

Maverick

Figuresthat the one night I’m supposed to meet a woman, something goes wrong at the ranch.

Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. That’s how it always goes.

This is the life I accepted when I took on my family’s ranch full time after my dad passed. I try not to complain about it too much. No sense in whining and moaning about something I can’t change. And even if I could change it, I wouldn’t. Life on the ranch is the only life for me.

But it’s hard work. Backbreaking work, even. And it’s rare that I get a night off this time of year. So I intend to use it well.Verywell.

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