I would be if this were an actual date. I was antsy enough for Bart and Raffie to ask me what was up and tease me about having a hot date. I didn't mention who it was with, though. I figured there would be time enough to deal with that when they found out. Once we were done for the day, I hurried into the bunkhouse to shower and get ready. I chose my black jeans, black boots, and a black button-up shirt. I topped it off with my black hat, and I figured I looked good enough for nice but not fancy.
I enjoyed sharing the bunkhouse with Bart, Cruz, and Raffie. It was a really nice place, and when Reed rebuilt the barn, he upgraded the old-fashioned bunkhouse into more of a dorm-style place. We each had our own room and private bathroom but shared a common area with a television and a kitchenette. Not that we used the kitchenette much with Margo cooking great food just across the yard. We mostly used it on the weekends when she was off. Tonight, I hoped I would be gone before they came in to get ready for supper, but no such luck. Cruz came in just as I was finished.
“Well, look at you all gussied up. Got a hot date?” he asked, hanging his hat on the hat rack by the door.
“A date anyway,” I said. I braced myself for him to ask who with when I heard the crunch of gravel outside. I glanced at my watch. Perfect. He was right on time. When he brought me home last year, he had a car of some kind, but since then, he had upgraded, and the new Mercedes SUV suited him. It was extravagant, and yet it was capable of going off-road and getting muddy. He was a lot like that. I'd seen him going out to show a couple from the city a multi-million-dollar piece of property, and he was dressed like he belonged there. I'd also seen him in jeans and a t-shirt helping Ripley with his goats, and he looked like he belonged there as well.
As I went to get in, I glanced behind me to see Cruz standing in the doorway watching me, and I knew I would hear about it tomorrow.
7
Miller
Sleeping with your fake boyfriend would be a really bad idea, I reminded myself as Landon walked out of the bunkhouse. But damn, he looked good. I had a feeling I was going to be reminding myself of that a lot over the next month or so, but I was determined not to take advantage of the situation. Landon had forever written all over him, and hurting him was not part of my plan.
He opened the door and slid into the SUV. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey. You look great.”
“Thanks, so do you,” he said. “Did you decide where we're going?”
“I did. There's an Italian place that's really good if that's okay with you.”
“Sure, I love Italian. Of course when it comes to food, I'm pretty easy. There isn't much I don't like.”
“Good to know.” I turned on the radio to the local country station and hit the interstate. The hour drive passed quickly. Landon told me about his day and the horse he was training. I told him about the difficult customer I dealt with today who kept changing his mind about what he wanted in a house, and it was like no time had passed at all before I was taking the exit for the restaurant.
I parked in the restaurant’s parking, but before we got out, I turned to look at him. “Do you think we should take a picture? You know, for social media?”
“Do you use social media?” he asked.
“Mostly for work, but yeah.” I shrugged.
“I do more than I want to so my mom can see I'm doing okay. She says it makes her feel like she knows what's going on, and that makes her feel better about me being here.”
“That makes sense. I can't imagine how my mom would react if she couldn't pop into the office whenever she felt like it to check up on me. What do you post?”
“Mostly pictures of the horses or of the goats. She loves Ripley's goats.”
“Yeah, most people do, I think. Well, lean over here, and let's take a quick pic you can post on whatever site you use.”
“Mostly Instagram so I can share pictures and don't have to type anything,” he said as he