The Delivery of Decor (Shiloh Ridge Ranch in Three Rivers #7) - Liz Isaacson Page 0,95
cried on your shoulder over some boyfriend who liked Mildred more than me?”
Mister chuckled, though he didn’t really want to spend time in the past. With Libby, he wanted a future. At least he thought he did. “A lot of times,” he said.
He swallowed, because there were some things he’d done that he wished he hadn’t. He could ask her how many times she’d set him up with the women she knew in Three Rivers, the answer to that would be a lot too.
“I’m sorry I said you were being impossible,” he said. “I was frustrated that what I wanted to say wasn’t coming across.” He cleared his throat, because he’d asked her to go to breakfast with him after they’d cleared the road onto the ranch, and she’d argued back that they wouldn’t be able to do that for days. Maybe weeks.
He’d growled at her that she knew what he meant, and she’d glared right on back. Then stupid Wyatt Walker had shown up with doughnuts and juice and food, and Libby had said they had no need to “waste time” going to town when there was breakfast—and lunch—right there.
Mister had called her impossible and stomped away. They hadn’t spoken, though that had all just happened yesterday morning.
“I don’t like it when I can’t text you,” he said, looking down to his cowboy boots. He used to own twenty pairs of them, and he’d stand in front of the row of boots for ten minutes before choosing. Now, he wore the same ones all the time.
Dad had taught him not to be pretentious. Not think of himself as better than others. His father had seen the talent in him at a young age, and Mister had competed in junior rodeo for a decade before his dad died. That year, Mister had gone pro, and he was fairly certain he’d stayed on some of the bulls he’d ridden because his angel father had held him up with his wings.
“I’m sorry I said you were a brute,” Libby said, inching a bit closer to him.
He reached over and took her hand, sighing with how comfortable that made him. “Will you come to the New Year’s Eve party tomorrow?”
“Mildred and I wouldn’t miss it.” She squeezed his hand, her happiness obvious in her tone.
Mister turned toward her, the beauty in her face making him suck in a breath. She wore her sandy blonde hair half-up and half-down, and Mister wanted to reach out and flip back a long piece hanging over her shoulder. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to tell her—really tell her—what was going on inside his head.
You have to tell her, he thought. Tell her what you’re thinking. Tell her you want to come pick her up. Like it’s a date.
“Oh, I was thinking—” Mister started.
“What time does it start?” she interrupted, releasing his hand and putting several more inches between them.
Mister noticed all of it, and his words died in his throat. A lump formed there, and he swallowed against it. “Eight,” he managed to say.
“I’ll drive,” she said. “Mildred doesn’t like to drive at night.”
“I could come get you,” he said, clearing his throat again. “Maybe Scott and Alli could bring Mildred.” He met her eyes, and Mister knew Libby Bellamore. He’d known her for thirty years. She was smart and articulate, and there was no way she didn’t know what was happening here.
“We could go to dinner first,” he said. “There won’t be real food there. Just party food, you know, like popcorn and brownies and stuff.” His throat felt so dry. “There’s a new place in town, in one of those high-rise buildings? Bishop and Montana went with Aurora and Ollie, and they said it’s real nice. They have vegetable tempura, and I thought since you like that so much, we could go.”
He dropped his eyes to his hands, his chest vibrating strangely now. Mister wasn’t even sure why. He’d been out with plenty of women over the years, and he was usually so smooth. “Say, like, six? I’ll come get you, and we’ll go. It’ll be a date.” The last word scraped his throat, and he cleared it a moment later.
Libby sat in silence, and Mister didn’t dare look at her.
“What about Mildred?” she asked.
“She can get a ride with Scott and Alli,” Mister said again. “I know they’re coming, because I saw them on Bear’s list.” Surely her brother could give Mildred a ride. They lived two hundred yards down the lane.