Wrangling the Cowboy (Circle B Ranch 3)

“Hey!” She stands from the booth and immediately hugs me.

“I’m so excited you were able to come,” I say, taking a seat.

“Me too. Honestly, it’s been so hectic.”

We grab our menus and flip through them even though we know what they offer.

“Yeah, same. Lunch rush is over, and my employees were fine.” If I’m lucky, they’ll start washing dishes too.

“Oh good, so we have time to chat.” She smiles up at me.

“Yeah, I owe you an update on Gavin.”

“Girl, yes. I wanna hear all about it.”

I go through all the details– the nice dinner I made and our conversation that quickly shifted to him getting up and leaving. It takes me nearly twenty minutes to explain it all.

“Wow…Gavin’s not messin’ around this time.” She snickers. “Sounds like he’s trying to protect his heart just like you. What would you want a guy to do if the tables were turned?”

I hadn’t thought about it that way. Shrugging, I draw a blank. “I don’t know, I guess…a nice gesture of some sort. Something that shows he’s thinking of me, but not just materialistic things. Something from the heart and thoughtful.”

She waves out her hand. “There ya go.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” I groan. “I tried to win him over with my cooking, and that didn’t work, so I’m kinda screwed.”

“What’s he interested in? Obviously bull riding and horses since he trains them. But you gotta go deeper than that. What kind of music does he like? Or movies? Figure out some personal things, go out of your way to find out his favorites, then make it special.”

“Hmm…that’s not a horrible idea.” I tap my bottom lip. “I have a lot to think about. But anyway, enough about me, what’s going on with you? How’s Dr. VetDreamy?”

“If it’s possible, he’s even moodier and more asshole-ish than before. He glared at me the whole time at Gavin’s birthday party, then barely said a word to me the next day. It’s like, no matter how well I do every task he gives me, it’s not good enough or even acknowledged. I’m ready to open my own business, but even if I did, he has all the contacts. Everyone around here trusts him, and I’d go bankrupt within my first year.”

“Have you ever just asked him? Like hey, you want to hate bang this out so we can work together or hey, need help gettin’ that stick outta your ass so we can be civil?”

“When he was super edgy, I snapped at him a few times, but it barely fazed him. He’ll hardly look at me when he gives instructions, then freaks out when I don’t pay attention. Like talk about a double standard. I have to listen to his every word, but he pretends I don’t even exist.”

“My best guess is that he’s actually attracted to you and is trying really fucking hard not to be. He’s pulling a Maize.”

She frowns. “A what?”

“A Maize. Me! He’s pushing you away so you can’t get close because he’s scared he’ll get hurt, or that he’ll hurt you. Probably worried it’d ruin your professional relationship too. I mean, he’s basically me in a man’s body.”

“I think you’re reading into this way too much. He gets phone calls throughout the day, but one woman calls almost every hour, and he’ll walk out of the room or distance himself to answer it. So I think he has a girlfriend, which makes your theory moot.”

“You’re sure it’s a woman?” I ask.

“Yep, based on the few seconds of conversation I overheard.”

“You don’t know it’s a girlfriend, though. For all we know, it’s his drug dealer.”

Elle snorts. “Yeah, that makes me feel better, thanks.”

I shrug. “Gotta think of all options here.”

The waitress comes over and takes our order. Surprisingly, I’m not super hungry, so I order a salad and a sweet tea.

“Maybe you should join a dating app,” I suggest. “Then let it slip into your convo and watch his reaction.”

“After your disasters, you want me to suffer through that?”

“Well, you don’t really have to participate to see what he thinks about it. Maybe he’ll try to find you and swipe right.” I waggle my brows.

Elle rolls her eyes. “Very doubtful. Good looks aside, his personality is dull, humor is dry, and don’t get me started on our one-sentence conversations.”

“You need some kind of drastic change and see if he notices. Wear something different and tight, cut or dye your hair, put on a padded bra. If he looks even a tiny bit fazed, then that means he’s looking.”

“Okay, I can do the first two, but I’m not wearing a padded bra. Aside from being uncomfortable, I wear scrubs, and they’re tight enough as it is.”

“I would love to see you with bleach blond hair!” I exclaim. “It’d look hot with your tan, too. Get some layers or side bangs.” I move my head from side to side as I imagine it in my mind. “Yep, it’d look sexy as hell.”