Page 17 of More Than a Good Friend

I like him, and that’s the problem.

Me:I’m bringing home brisket nachos. You can have them if you want.

The Hot One:And that’s why I love you.

Even when he’s trying to be nice, he’s twisting my heart.

I settle the phone into its holder and shift into reverse.

Another message pops on the screen.

The Hot One:Be safe. I’ll see you soon.

CHAPTER8

DAG

It’s Sunday, and Goldie left for her date without borrowing my truck. So I don’t know where she is or how she got there. And if I stick around the ranch, I’m going to be worried and out of sorts. The guys don’t want to hear me complain. They’ll just tell me to leave her alone and let her enjoy the date.

I plan to. But I’m still thinking about her and wondering if she’s walking along the side of the road somewhere.

Hopefully, barbecue will work as a temporary distraction.

When I climb into my truck, something pokes me in the butt, and I fish an earring out of my seat. Must be Goldie’s. I shove it in my pocket.

Her date last night must not have gone well. She tugs on her ear when she’s stressed and probably knocked her earring loose on the drive home. I’m surprised she didn’t notice. When she got home, I asked about the date, but she only shook her head and told me she wouldn’t be going out with him again.

I didn’t press it. I’m trying to be supportive. She deserves to find someone who will love and pamper her. Not all of us are cut out for that sort of thing. I wouldn’t even know how to make a woman feel like she’s living a fairy tale. But Goldie is meant for that sort of life. And that’s why I haven’t blown up her phone, asking where she is and if she’s okay.

I blast the radio while I drive. Goldie’s dated before. But it bothers me more now. And I’ve crashed a few of her dates in the past, but only because I thought the guys weren’t good for her.

Honestly, it’s hard to imagine anyone being good enough for her. I’m lucky she’s been my friend for so long. Most women tire of me quickly.

The barbecue joint is crowded, so I take my place at the back of the line. Little by little, I move closer to the counter.

And finally, a guy in a ball cap asks, “What can I get for ya?”

“A pork rib and half a pound of brisket.” As I’m watching him slice the meat, Goldie’s musical laugh rings out.

She and her date are sitting at the end of a long table, and whatever he’s saying has her in stitches. Her head is tilted back, and her hand is over her mouth.

Not sure what the knot in my stomach is from, but I don’t like it. I grab my sides and slide my tray to the register.

She’s halfway across the room, but while I’m watching, she glances at me. Can she feel me staring? Her brow crinkles before she turns her focus back to the comedian.

Staying will only make things awkward for Goldie. She’s made that abundantly clear. So I ask for a takeout container and get the food to go. I’ll just have to give her the earring later.

As I walk over to the pickles-and-onions stand—because barbecue isn’t as good without them—Goldie looks over again. I wave and hold up my to-go container, and she visibly relaxes.

Not sure it’s a great thing when your leaving gives a person relief.

* * *

Friday afternoon,I’m fidgeting with the earring, which I still haven’t returned to Goldie. We haven’t seen much of each other and have exchanged fewer than a hundred words all week.

She’s avoiding me.

But I’m trying not to think about that as I get ready for my night out. Staying home is not typically how I spend my weekends. Last weekend was an anomaly. But it’s time I get back to my regular routine. I can worry about Goldie anywhere. I might as well do it while dancing with a beautiful woman or two. And who knows where that will lead.

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