Page 48 of Braving the Storm
This is just girlfriends supporting one another, and my heart squeezes that this girl, who I barely know, is already inviting me to be part of this kind of celebration.
“So, I already call dibs on you and Storm joining us for dinner that night, alright? Maybe even Wes can come, too… if you guys hit it off today.”
I stare at my reflection in the mirror over the vanity, allowing her words to sink in. There’s a twist deep in my gut because even though Layla is absolutely right, if things go well today, there is every chance I might be going out to dinner with her and her friend, with him coming along as my date.
But as I tug the dress on and smooth out the fabric, my stomach flips. There’s a voice that is far too loud inside me, sayingthat I only want to have one man there for an evening out with friends.
And it’s the man I shouldn’t desire.
“You’re sure I look ok?”I ask Layla for what feels like the tenth time since we left the cabin. She puts the truck in park and fishes her bag out of the back seat.
“If that man doesn’t already have a plot of land and a house planned out for the two of you on his ranch by the time you’ve ordered a meal, I’ll be shocked.” My face must go pale because she shakes her head and laughs at me. “I’m joking, Briar.”
“Not funny.”
“I take it that’s anoon ‘seeking cowboy and marriage proposal’ over lunch, then?”
“Layla.” I shake my head and groan.
She laughs at me, green eyes sparkling.
“Ok, so I’ve got plenty of jobs I need to get done, it’ll take me a few hours at the least. You’ve got my number to text me if you need anSOS get me out of hereemergency phone call.”
That makes me bite back a smile. “Horse emergency?”
“I can be as creative as you like. Give me a number from one to ten if you need and that way I’ll know how extreme of an emergency I need to conjure up. One is like I’ve got a sudden migraine; ten means the entire Peak is on fire.”
“Why do I feel like my palms are sweating?” I shake my hands. Nerves fire through my bloodstream as I glance up at the cafe where I’m supposed to be in five minutes’ time.
“You’ll be fine.” Layla toys with the keys and looks like she’s trying to figure out something. “Just… remember this is a small town, ok? Local rumor and gossip… you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“Wes knows your uncle, but don’t believe everything youmight hear about Storm from some of the locals here. Especially once they find out you’re his niece.”
I must have the world’s most confused expression written all over my face. This was not what I expected for my pre-date pep talk. Is she talking about the fact my uncle obviously has a fair bit of female attention? Is this about the waitress from last night and whatever might be going on between the two of them? Just thinking about that makes me cringe, because I certainly was quick to hop in his lap and grind all over him, and there was no effort on his part to stop things from going as far as they did between us.
“God, ignore me. It’s just… Stôrmand Lane is kind of a local celebrity and not just for his rodeo achievements. I just didn’t want you to get caught off guard by the kind of people in this town who don’t know anything about his life, yet seem to want to jump to conclusions without knowing the facts.”
I’m trying to find words, as we both start moving to get out of the truck. My phone is in my hand from when I checked the time and to confirm that Wes wasn’t going to stand me up, and as I shut the door behind me it starts ringing at the same time.
Un-fucking-believable. My stupid thumb hits the answer button by accident.
Layla waves at me and hitches her thumb over her shoulder, mouthing that she’ll see me soon and good luck and disappears down the street.
“Briar? Don’t hang up. Please, babe.” The voice I never want to hear again pleads down the line.
Steeling myself and looking toward the cloudy sky above my head, I raise the phone to my ear.
“What do you want?” At least I am standing right outside the cafe where I’m supposed to meet an exceedingly handsome man for a date, and that gives me enough of a surge of confidence, well enough to feel like I can handle my douchebag ex for two minutes over the phone at least.
“Thank god you’re ok.” Antoine’s fake concern sounds hollow down the line.
“You don’t give a shit about whether I’m ok. We both know this, Antoine. Stop trying to contact me.”
“Briar, please, you have to know how sorry I am.”
“Really? You’re sorry? That’s bullshit I can smell even from here.”
