A Blind Date With Her Cowboy Billionaire Boss Page 6

  “Yeah, I’m free. Sounds like fun!” Shelby said. “Where are we going?”

  “Cowboy bar,” James said simply.

  “I'll text you the address,” Whitney said, grabbing her cellphone. “And the menu.”

  Shelby watched her phone screen light up. She grabbed the device and scrolled through Whitney’s text, checking the menu for the restaurant. “Looks cool,” she said, then exclaimed, “Oh, buffalo cauliflower bites. I love that stuff!”

  “So good,” Whitney said, rolling her eyes back for emphasis.

  “Who's all going?” Shelby asked.

  Whitney tossed her phone back onto the coffee table and curled up against James. She rested her head on her boyfriend’s arm. “Well, it's going to be me, you, James,” she said, counting on her fingertips, “And probably one of James' friends.”

  “Cool,” Shelby nodded.

  The three of them continued to talk about work, friends, food, and then finally began playing the movie.

  This always seemed to happen to the three friends. They would plan for a big movie night, make a buffet of snacks, and then end up talking the night away and devouring he snacks before they ever had to chance to hit play on the television.

  It wasn’t until forty minutes into the movie that Shelby began dwelling on the Friday night invitation from earlier. James would be bringing a friend… or a setup?

  “So when you say James is bringing a friend, you mean…?” Shelby blurted suddenly.

  Whitney’s gaze found Shelby’s quickly, and she smiled in her sheepish way. “I mean a delightful new friend,” she said, enunciating nearly every word.

  “So you mean date,” Shelby said flatly.

  “Basically, yes,” Whitney smirked.

  “And you don’t even just mean a date; you mean to set me up on a horrible double date?”

  James snapped his fingers as if to say ‘Bingo!’ and said, “You've known her for too long.”

  Shelby set her jaw. “And I think she's known me long enough to understand that I'm not ready for a relationship right now. What do you even know about this guy?”

  “I've known him for a while now. Both of us have,” Whitney said, pausing the movie. “And I mean, he's good. He's very cute, good job, he's a cowboy—”

  Shelby’s heart felt like it had clattered down her chest and landed hard in her stomach. “No! Nu-uh!” she said, waving her hands in the air. “Whitney, I just went through the worst divorce in the history of divorces with a cowboy, and I'm not exactly itching to jump back in with another one. Got it?”

  “Well, maybe this one won't end up in a divorce,” she said playfully. “Think positive, girl!”

  Shelby felt a genuine wave of anxiety wash over her. Whitney wasn’t taking her seriously.

  “Or it won't end up as anything at all, because I'm not going,” she snapped.

  “Oh, come on!” Whitney laughed like it was no big deal. “It's just a bunch of friends hanging out.”

  Shelby rolled her eyes. “Yeah, until you and James go off to play pool or grab drinks and then are never heard from again.”

  Whitney shook her head, still smiling. “You must think I'm really underhanded, Ms. Peters.”

  “I’m not going,” she insisted.

  “Fine! Fine!” Whitney relented. “We won't invite anyone else, okay? Just come out with us. You could use a little excitement.”

  Shelby didn’t know whether she should believe her friend. Whitney had been encouraging her to join a dating app for weeks now.

  “Really?” Shelby asked. “Promise me it’ll just be the three of us—and I mean it, Whit!”

  Whitney nodded, seeming to get the drift. “I swear.”

  Shelby met Whitney’s eyes and gave them a thorough search. It was the kind of search you could only do when you had been best friends with someone for many, many years.

  Whitney seemed to be telling the truth.

  “Alright,” Shelby relented. “I’ll be there after work. Now let’s finish this movie.”

  Chapter Nine

  Colt

  “You have everything you need?” Shelby asked thoughtfully as Colt scrambled around the main floor of his home.

  “Yep, I think so,” he said absent-mindedly.

  He grabbed his wedding ring from the console table by the door and slipped it on. It was a habit he'd taken up doing ever since he got married. As soon as he got home from work, his ring came off. But if he had to leave the house for any reason, it slipped right back onto his finger like clockwork.

  It was a habit he hadn't been able to give up since Amma's passing.

  “And you're taking the kids to Reg and Cheryl’s...” Colt trailed off.

  “In about fifteen minutes,” Shelby said.

  Reg and Cheryl were friends of Colt and Amma. They also worked at Brookside Ranch and had a two-year-old and a five-year-old who Isaiah loved to play with. They offered to take the kids overnight, and Colt could hardly say no.

  Isaiah could use a good cheering up, Colt thought. Besides, Reg and Cheryl's oldest would be starting kindergarten in just a few months and raved about his excitement to Isaiah every chance he got. Best to get Isaiah used to the idea now than have to fight him tooth and nail on it next year.

  “Good,” Colt said. He checked his back pocket, finger, and front pocket as he began to recite “Phone, keys, wallet,” under his breath.

  Shelby held Eleanor in her arms, his daughter seeming unbelievably calm with her nanny. He was almost afraid to kiss her goodbye, worried he would send her into a crying fit.

  He opted out of the kiss and let Eleanor pull his finger into her little hands and then promptly into her mouth. He laughed as the saliva hit his skin and pulled away, stroking a clean finger up her soft cheek before tapping her on the nose.

  “Have a good night,” he said to Shelby.

  “Thanks,” she said. “You too.”

  “Bye, Isaiah!” he called into the house before turning back to Eleanor. “Bye, sweetie.”

  Colt opened the front door and was about to leave when he heard Shelby erupt into a fit of giggles. He spun on his heel and turned to look at her.

  “Are you sure you aren't forgetting anything?” she asked with a laugh.

  “No, why?”

  Shelby readjusted Eleanor in her arms and nodded down towards Colt's feet.

  He looked down and saw that he wasn't wearing any shoes. Just two, mismatched socks. One black, one orange.

  “Oh boy,” he said, feeling his face burning red. “What's wrong with me tonight?”

  “Yeah, what's got you all nerved up?” Shelby asked with a grin.

  “No idea,” he lied.

  “No?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

  “I think my brain knows I’m about to go do something really stupid,” he said.

  “Ah,” she nodded. “And now it’s trying to prevent you from leaving by all means necessary?”

  “Mainly through hurt and dirty feet, apparently,” he chuckled.

  “Brains are tricky like that,” she said.

  “Thanks for savin' me. I don't pay you enough,” he teased.

  What did have him so nerved up? He thought about this for his whole drive.

  To be happy seemed like such a foreign concept to Colt.

  James seemed to imply that Amma would have wanted Colt to be happy—to move on from her.

  But James didn’t know Amma the way Colt did.

  It’s not that Amma was a monster or that she wanted Colt to continue in the state of mindless depression or hollow numbness he had been living in for the last eight months.

  But Amma wouldn’t want him to be with someone else, either.

  Amma planned a life with him. She started her family with Colt. Why would anyone think she would want Colt to pursue some other woman?

  He denied Whitney’s invitation to be set up for a blind date.

  But he had agreed to come out as a foursome with Whitney, James, and the girl in question
that Friday night.

  Tonight.

  “I could be nice to have a new friend,” Whitney had argued.

  It was a transparent argument. She just wanted to see if the pair had chemistry. He knew that.

  Colt just wanted a fun night out with his friends, and if some new girl had to be there for it, so be it.

  But he wasn’t looking to date. He wasn’t looking for love at all. Not now, not in a month from now, not in five years from now.

  To prove it wasn’t a date, Whitney had chosen a run-down old burger joint as the location of their dinner. No candles, no ruffles. Just a regular old steak-and-burger cowboy joint.

  That suited Colt just fine.

  But then, why was he so nervous?

  As usual, he was early to the restaurant.

  Forty minutes early, to be exact.

  Whenever he felt anxious about a social gathering, he would always show up extra early to give himself a chance to psyche himself up.

  He had convinced himself that he didn’t care what this stranger thought of him, and yet he still found himself dwelling on questions like, what if she doesn’t find me attractive? What if she doesn’t like kids? What if she feels sorry for me or thinks that I’m just some sad, pathetic widower?

  He had to keep reminding himself that these weren’t his thoughts to have.

  Whoever this girl was, she meant nothing to him. She was just a fourth seat at a table.

  He sat in his truck listening to the radio, only interrupted once when his phone went off twenty minutes before he was supposed to head into the restaurant.

  He opened the text from Whitney, and it read: “Excited?”

  “It’ll be a fun night,” he answered, noncommittal.

  “We’ll be there in thirty. Gonna be just a few minutes late, sorry! Reservation’s under my name.”

  “Not likely,” he responded.

  Whitney just wanted him to have some alone time with her friend. He knew that much. But he could be social for ten minutes. That didn’t bother him.

  “LOL! see you soon!” she responded, followed by about eight smiley faces.

  Chapter Ten

  Shelby

  The bar was as Shelby expected.

  She knew exactly what Whitney meant when she referred to it as a ‘cowboy bar.’ There were vertical wood-paneled walls, two long bar shelves of liquor—mostly whiskey—old wooden booths, and an immense collection of cowboy memorabilia lining the walls.

  Shelby was surprised that a restaurant like this would take reservations. She approached the cowgirl hostess with a smile and said, “I have a reservation under Whitney Harding?”

  “Right this way!” the hostess said cheerfully as she led Shelby to an old booth in the far corner of the restaurant. It appeared she was the first one there.

  Loud country music played through the overhead speaker, and there were people standing up from their barstools and dancing.

  Shelby watched them with mild interest, remembering what it was like to have someone to dance with. She remembered the glory days of having someone who made you feel so special, they could turn a honky-tonk bar into an unforgettable evening.

  “Just got here,” she texted Whitney.

  “We’ll be there in five! Can’t wait for those cauliflower bites :D,” her friend texted back excitedly.

  After a few minutes of sitting alone, the waitress came over and brought a complimentary basket of pretzels to the table. Shelby smiled her thanks and took a bite of the salty snack.

  Every time the front door would open, Shelby’s eyes would dart toward the hostess’ podium to see if it was her friends.

  Her attention was caught when a handsome man walked in. He wore blue jeans, a short-sleeved button-up, and a cowboy hat. He had dark hair, tan skin, and an amazing jawline. He was so attractive, she couldn’t help but openly stare.

  He was so familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on how she knew him. Then it clicked. It was Colt Brooks.

  Shelby’s heart raced as she stared at her boss. He looked so different without his beard. She’d never seen him clean-shaven before, so it took a second for his features to register with her.

  “Oh my gosh,” she whispered to herself, sinking into her chair. This was so embarrassing.

  Her embarrassment grew twofold as she heard the man say to the hostess, “I have a reservation. Should be under the name Whitney Harding.”

  Shelby’s eyes went wide. Her brows shot up, and she watched with a wrinkled forehead as the hostess brought Colt up to the booth and announced that she would bring them a couple of menus.

  “Shelby,” Colt said, his tone rising in confusion as he looked down at her. “What are you doing here?”

  She wanted to crawl under her seat. “I'm...what are you doing here?

  “Whitney invited me,” he said, raising a brow.

  Shelby’s heart lilted. This was the guy Whitney was trying to set her up with? How did she even know Colt?

  “You know Whitney?” she asked, and before he had the chance to answer, she blurted out, “I knew she was going to do this!”

  “How do you know Whitney?” Colt asked, still deciding whether or not he should sit down.

  “I've been friends with her for years. When I moved back to Carrin, I moved in with her.”

  “You live with her?” he repeated in surprise. “Above the diner?”

  Shelby nodded and pulled at her shirt, suddenly embarrassed she didn’t put more into her outfit for the night. She foolishly believed Whitney when she said it would only be the three of them at dinner and so opted for a pair of jean shorts and a ribbed bodysuit that didn’t do anything for her figure.

  “Just for the record,” she said in a small voice, not looking up at him, “I did not agree to a setup.”

  “This wasn't exactly what I was expecting, either,” Colt said.

  Colt’s phone began to vibrate, and he pulled it out of his pocket. Shelby watched his eyes scan the message on his screen. He flipped the phone around and showed it to Shelby. It was a message from Whitney that said: “Sorry! Can’t make it. Have fuuun!”

  Shelby’s boss shook his head and let out a breathy laugh. “Looks like we both got played,” he said.

  “I am so mad right now,” Shelby said, setting her jaw.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” the waitress asked, her voice all sugar as she bounced up to their table.

  “No, no. We're not staying,” Colt said. Then he met Shelby’s eyes and asked, “Are we?”

  “No,” she shook her head. This was beyond inappropriate. “We can't.”

  “Though,” he said, crossing his arms.

  “Though?”

  Colt shrugged. “I am starving.”

  “Yeah, me too. Did you want to sit?” she offered awkwardly.

  Colt studied her body language and sat down unsurely. Then he nodded and said, “One meal won't hurt.”

  “Great!” the waitress said. “Here are your menus. What can I get you to start?”

  “I’ll have a water,” Colt said, slipping his cowboy hat off and resting it on the hook on the side of their booth—probably installed there for that very reason.

  “And a sweet tea,” Whitney added.

  Colt looked at her, his bright brown eyes studying her. He offered her a charming smile. One that said ‘Ah, what the heck’ and turned to the waitress. “And a rum and Coke.”

  “Two, please,” Shelby added.

  “Now we’re talking,” Colt said.

  If this were a date, she would think it was cute and flirty of her to chime in and order the same drink as her date. But this wasn’t a date; this was the world’s most awkward dinner with her boss.

  The waitress bounded off, and Shelby opened the sticky pages of the menu. She glanced over the options and wondered if it would still be appropriate to order the cauliflower wings. They would be a bit of a mess, which wouldn’t be very lady-like.

  But then again, this wasn’t a date, so Shelby could
behave normally.

  This thought calmed her down. She felt like she was able to breathe and relax for a moment. There would be no sweet-girl pretense or pressure to be engaging or likable. She could just be herself.

  “So, how do you know Whitney?” she asked.

  “She was one of the first people I met when I moved to Carrin,” Colt said. “I was an obsessive patron of her diner while we were just opening up the ranch.”

  “Small world,” she mused.

  “Yeah,” he said with a laugh. He still seemed just as shocked as she was. “And then I met James, and we've been buddies for years. We play football together sometimes he helps out at the ranch. Yeah, they're great.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Just not tonight,” he added. “Tonight, they are in my bad book.”

  “Agreed,” she giggled. “So, Mr. Brooks, tell me, why were you so opposed to this setup?”

  “It's not like they told me it was you, so don't be offended,” he explained.

  “No, of course not,” she said, waving her hands. “I didn't want to be here either.”

  The waitress arrived back at the table with their drinks and asked what they would like to eat. Shelby did one order of cauliflower wings as an appetizer and a burger and side salad as her meal. Colt ordered steak and salad, then commented to her after the waitress left that he wasn’t expecting much from the steak.

  She supposed that would be the assessment when you produced some of the best beef in Texas.

  “Well, anyway,” Colt said, resuming their conversation as the waitress left them. “I'm just…” he trailed off, then shrugged. “I’m just not looking to date. Not now and not ever. I have my priorities and falling in love isn't one of them.”

  “Same. Big time,” she said. She pressed her lips thin and looked down at her drink. Somehow it felt wrong drinking in front of her boss.

  Shelby wanted to ask him questions about his wife. She didn’t know anything about her, except that she passed away. She wanted to know more about his life if only to understand his children better, but she wasn’t sure how well he would receive the question.

  Then again, she hated when someone’s spouse passed away and then everybody acted like that person never existed. Instead of including the widow or widower in the conversation, they try to shield them from the pain by excluding them altogether.