The Mechanics of Mistletoe - Liz Isaacson Page 0,62
petite. She’d won enough money in car racing to live comfortably for the rest of her life—and they knew it. They recognized her from somewhere, even if they didn’t know where until she told them.
“It’s really incredible,” Nick said, glancing at her.
“Yeah,” she said. “You said that already.”
“Did I?” He straightened and looked at her, taking in the cola in her hand. “It’s barely six.”
“Yeah,” she said, yawning. “I don’t get up this early very often.”
“How can you drink that so early in the morning?”
“It’s like coffee,” she said, nodding around to plenty of other people who had drinks in their hand. “It’s just not hot.”
Nick smiled, and Oakley turned back to the balloon she had no interest in. “Do you want to go do the demo?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said, though she wanted to find somewhere to get something good to eat. Then she should probably get on a treadmill somewhere, and then she could go back to bed. She didn’t have to be to the dealership until four, and she’d definitely need a nap before she had to close tonight.
Nick took her hand again, and Oakley glanced at him, a tight smile on her face. They went to the demo about how the hot air fills the balloon, and then one about what the baskets were made of.
Oakley put in an hour, and then she said, “I have to get going, Nick. I’ve got a thing this morning before I have to go to work.”
“Sure,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “This was fun.”
“Was it?” Oakley asked, unsure if he was kidding or not. She faced him, catching the surprise on his face.
“Yeah,” he said. “Did you—did you not have fun?”
Oakley hated this part of dating. She actually preferred it when the men could feel things weren’t right, and they just stopped calling and texting.
“It was okay,” Oakley said, exhaling and then taking another breath.
Before she could say things weren’t working for her, Nick asked, “What about dinner tomorrow night?”
“Oh, uh,” Oakley glanced around, seeing a plethora of cowboy hats. This town seemed to have more than any other. She caught sight of a cowboy she hadn’t seen in a while, and she seized onto an idea. “Ranger,” she said.
The man looked around, obviously trying to find her. She lifted her hand, and he lifted his as a slightly confused look crossed his face.
To her relief, he took the few steps to join her and Nick. “Hey, Oakley.” He glanced at Nick. “Did you two enjoy the festival?”
“Yeah,” Nick said, sliding his hand into hers. Oakley slipped into her mask, the smile plastic and fake. Ranger saw the hand-holding, and he hadn’t smiled yet.
“I haven’t seen you at church in a while,” Oakley said. “Are things really busy on the ranch?”
“Always,” Ranger said, his blue eyes sending her pulse crashing against her ribs. She hadn’t seen who he was with, but no one seemed to be waiting for him. “We harvest on a rotation from July to October.”
“Wow,” Nick said.
“I’m Ranger Glover,” Ranger said, extending his hand toward Nick.
“Oh,” Oakley said with a light laugh. “Sorry. Nick, this is Ranger Glover, a friend of mine from church. Ranger, this is Nick Ryan, my….”
Nick shook Ranger’s hand, saying, “Boyfriend.”
“No,” Oakley said, heat rising through her chest. She stared at him, surprise filling her from top to bottom.
“Nice to meet you,” Ranger said.
“No?” Nick asked, facing her.
“I’ll let you guys figure it out.” Ranger took a couple of steps backward, and Oakley wanted to beg him to stay.
“Oakley,” Nick said, and she sighed as she looked at him.
“I’m not your girlfriend,” she said, gently removing her hand from his. “You’re not my boyfriend.”
“I thought we were getting along great.”
“That’s because we don’t say anything to each other.”
He gaped at her. “I don’t….”
“I have a date with another man for lunch,” Oakley said, taking a step away from him. “I never said we were exclusive.” She purposely didn’t date just one person, and she was pretty up-front about that.
Nick shook his head, anger sparking in his eyes. “So it’s a no to dinner tomorrow night.”
“It’s a no,” she said.
He nodded, turned, and left. Just like that.
Oakley’s adrenaline buzzed through her body, and she looked around for a way to release it. Sometimes she really missed the thrill of driving two hundred miles an hour. She missed strapping into the race car. She missed putting on the helmet, and the scent of hot rubber tires on even hotter asphalt.