Page 7 of Bookworm

I whistle toward the horses.

Ann looks up at me with a big, round, innocent gaze, that just about kills me.

Fuck. I want to take her pain away… now! I can be her family and kiss her until she feels better. I can lay with her in bed next to her soft curves, long hair, gentle hands, enormous tits, and tell her all the things it would take for her to never want for anything ever again.

I’m sure she’s confused as to why I’m ending the tour early, but I made a mistake inviting her out here. I need to get the hell out of this pasture before I say something stupid and make a god damn fool of myself.

Chapter Five

Ann

I sit at the edge of the bed and stare down at the line of selfies I’ve just taken, then send two of them to my friend Morgan. We’ve been best friends since high school and she’s the best at talking sense into me.

Me:

Me: Does this look casual enough that I don’t look like I’m trying, but nice enough that if I were to see a certain someone, I’d look hot?

Morgan: Girl… you’re hot as hell.

Me: Also a little trashy, right?

Morgan: Ha! That’s not what you’re going for?

Me: No! I was going for casual sexy. Like... just got off work, hair in a loose bun, kind of vibe.

Morgan: Tie that t-shirt up a little, oraccidentallytuck it into the back of your panties. That will really get him going. Is this for that old man you’re caring for? If so, we should talk.

Me: No! God! What do you take me for?

Morgan: Well, who’s it for then? Does he have a sexy nurse you’re trying to persuade?

I realize quickly that Morgan may think Holt is old. If I were guessing, I’d think he were in his mid-forties. To most in their early twenties, that’s ancient.

Me: Something like that. I don’t know what I’m doing! HELP! I’m not even sure he likes me. He keeps ending our conversations early, but we have this weird connection that I can’t explain.

Morgan: He likes you.

Me: How do you know?

Morgan: Cowboys are like that. They get all bottled up with their feelings and overcomplicate everything. You have to lay it on thick, so he knows he isn’t going to get himself hurt. Wear a long t-shirt, casually get a drink, lift your arms when he’s looking, give him full ass, and he won’t be able to resist.

Me: You think?

Morgan: You must really like this guy. You’re usually not this… free.

Not this free?Am I being free? I guess I’m about to pretend I don’t hear him out there and prance around in a short band t-shirt while reaching for a glass on the highest cupboard, so he gets a glimpse of my panties, and hopefully ravages me right there in the kitchen.

I laugh at myself. This plan is ridiculous.

Maybe I’m less free, and more desperate.

Thing is, there’s something about Holt that makes me wild with urges I’ve never felt. Not firsthand, anyway. I want him to know I’m interested, but maybe this is too far. Maybe I should just wander into the kitchen in my flannel sleep pants and see what happens.

Me: You’re right. I’ll scale back.

Morgan: No! That’s not what I said. Go for it! You’re there, you like him, so let your freak flag fly. Just text me right after and tell me every detail, including more about who this guy is. And if I don’t hear from you until morning, I’ll know you’re a dirty slut. ??

I text her back a heart and take another look at myself in the mirror, before sucking up the rest of the confidence I have, open the bedroom door, and make my way down the hall toward the kitchen. If he rejects me, that’s fine. I can leave Rugged Mountain and start a new life on the other side of the world.