Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
“Now you can, though. So keep going.”
“You know, I’ve thought about quitting more times than I can count. But I just…when push comes to shove, I can’t do it. I love the job too much. Love our boots. I’m a creative at heart, so I know I’d be miserable if I was chained to a desk all day doing, I don’t know, whatever lawyers do.”
I offer her a tight smile, moving so that we’re standing side by side at the table. “But that’s what’s expected of you, so it’s hard not to feel pressure.”
“Yes! Sometimes I think it’d be easier to just fold and do what everyone else is doing. Like, sometimes I think they got it right and I got life all wrong, because look how hard I’m struggling.”
Setting my beer down, I wonder if it’s too soon to ask this girl on a date. I like how honest she is. How fearless. Intelligent. The way she thinks—her doubts—it’s like a breath of fresh air.
I understand where Wheeler is coming from. My brothers all seem so certain that the path they’re on is the right one. But me? I’m constantly questioning what I’m doing, where I’m going. If I’m asking for too much to want more than the admittedly great life that was passed down to me.
Being with someone like Wheeler makes me feel a little less alone. Maybe I’m not asking for too much.
“But really, why boots?” I ask. “How’d you decide on that particular…line of business, I guess?”
Wheeler steps toward me to pick up one of the darts, long forgotten, on the whiskey barrel table between us. She’s close enough that her knee brushes my leg. Awareness spreads like wildfire through my thigh and settles low in my middle.
Having chemistry with this woman on all different levels is the best kind of mindfuck there is. I connect plenty with people in a physical sense. But mentally? Emotionally?
Not often enough.
“I was born and raised in Texas. As a baby gift, my grandparents gave me my first pair of boots. They were powder pink. Soft soled, crib shoes basically, with the cutest white stitching. I always say that’s where my obsession started. In preschool, all I would wear was cowboy boots. Pink ones, glittery ones, ones with flowers and butterflies and princesses on them. Drove my mom crazy.”
“Cute.” I lean forward so that our knees touch against the side of the barrel.
Wheeler meets my eyes. They’re alive, liquid with interest. “But as I got older, I could never find just the right pair. I wanted classic shapes—you know, the pointy toes, the ear pulls, all that—but with a fun, fashion-forward twist. So Mollie and I decided to make them.”
“Of course you did.” I scoff.
She cuts me a look. “What does that mean?”
“Means…” I shake my head. “Most people would just go search online and settle for the least worst-looking cheap pair of boots they could find. But you decided to manufacture your own fucking boots. You know how hot that is?”
Leaning forward, she settles her elbows on the table. “You think I’m hot?”
She’s flirting now, the energy between us shifting.
Igniting.
An unexpected shadow of disappointment moves through me. I wanna take this girl home, no two ways about it. But I also wanna keep picking her brain. I see so much of myself in the things she’s saying. The struggles she’s working through.
For the first time in a long time, I actually wanna…well, take my time.
There’s a buzz in the back of my skull. That’s the only way I can describe the weird sixth sense I have when it comes to Ryder. Glancing across the bar, I see him watching me. Watching us, more like it.
He cocks a brow. You like this one, yeah?
I give him a tiny nod. I do.
Grinning, he brings his beer to his mouth. For all his fucking around earlier, I know he’d never step on my toes when it comes to a girl. Not only because he’s not a total dick but also because we have completely different tastes in women. He likes country girls who can hold their liquor and who know every word to every Nirvana song. Bonus points if they’re brunette.
Me? I like girls who are going places. And yeah, if they have a nice ass, I don’t mind that.
Wheeler is definitely going places, and she definitely has the sexiest, cutest ass ever.
I don’t wanna fuck this up. If I move too fast, get too deep, I risk scaring her off. My hope is that she and I will be seeing a lot of each other going forward. Gotta keep this chemistry alive without blowing my proverbial load too soon.
Her mouth, though. It’s quick and smart and lush. I wanna kiss it almost as much as I wanna listen to the words that come out of it.