Roping the Cowboy (Circle B Ranch .5)
Chapter One
Kat
SIX MONTHS EARLIER
Online dating is hell. Then again, so is being single, which is why I’m putting myself out there. The annoying voice in my head has been screaming at me lately, continuously reminding me that all my friends are married with kids and I’m not getting any younger. Though I wouldn’t classify myself as old, my mother and grandma Gigi like to remind me I only have a finite number of eggs.
To appease my nagging family, I signed up for a dating app. During the past month of “trying” to meet The One, my matches have consisted of complete pervs who instantly sent dick pics and see me as nothing more than a booty call. That’s not what I’m looking for, but there’s no middle ground. I’m not in any hurry to find someone just to fill a void because my Mr. Right has a lot of boxes to check, which is why I’m more single than a lost sock. It also doesn’t help that I’m known around town as a heartbreaker.
Going against my better judgment, I agree to meet up with one of the non-creepy men. His name is Noah, and he’s sweet, considerate, and has his shit together, which is more than I can say about the donkey dicks who beg for my address five seconds after matching.
Just thinking about finally meeting Noah has me nervous as hell. He’s good-looking with sandy-blond hair and blue eyes. Though he’s a few years older, he’s never been married and has no kids, which makes me wonder what’s wrong with him. I laugh because I’m sure the same thought crossed his mind about me. I’m twenty-seven, never been in a serious relationship, and my family is well-known in this town for their money. But I’m ready to settle down and start a family, and live my dream life with someone who loves me wholeheartedly.
Instead of meeting at a fancy restaurant that leaves nothing but expectations, I chose a fun club that plays country music. Since the middle of nowhere Texas has limited options, it’s a popular place on the weekends.
As I put on red lipstick and smack my lips together, nervous jitters get the best of me, and I start doubting this. I slip on a slinky blouse and skirt, then put on my favorite pair of heels, giving me four extra inches since Noah’s over six feet tall. Before I leave, I take one last look in the mirror and somehow muster enough courage to walk out the door.
Once I’m in the parking lot of the bar, I pull out my phone and check the time. We agreed to meet around eight, so I send a message to let him know I’ve arrived.
The bouncer checks my ID at the door and allows me inside. Making my way to the bar, I save a seat for Noah, then order a cosmopolitan as I wait for him.
Time passes quickly, and as I finish my drink, I look down at my phone and see my message was read, but I have no reply. Perhaps he got caught up at the office, considering he’s somewhat high profile. Or he got lost. Or his phone died right after he read my message.
It’s plausible.
Just as I’m ordering my second drink and contemplating why he’s not here yet, a man plops down on the barstool next to me. A hopeful grin fills my face, but when I turn and realize it’s not Noah, my expression quickly fades.
“Is this seat reserved?” he asks with a thick Southern accent. His green eyes bore into me as he flashes a charming smile. Lifting his baseball cap, he runs his fingers through curly dark brown hair, and I can’t help but notice how attractive he is and how amazing he smells. When he licks his lips, I find myself staring, then wandering down to study the scruff on his chin. Damn.
He lifts his eyebrows, and I realize I never answered his question.
“Um, yes, it is,” I tell him, taking a sip of my drink, but he just shrugs.
“Darlin’, you’ve been sittin’ here for almost an hour drinkin’ alone. Doubt whoever’s supposed to be in this seat is showin’ up.”
I narrow my eyes. “Rude.”
“I’m not the rude one, sweetheart. I wouldn’t have stood you up. Trust me on that one.” He gives me a nod, then orders a beer. His confession causes my cheeks to heat and my heart to beat rapidly. This man is making me nervous as hell, so I try to focus on the cherry in my cosmo, hoping Noah’s not really standing me up. But if he is, maybe my night won’t be so bad after all.
“I’m sure he’s just running late and doesn’t have great reception,” I say, making excuses. Opening the app on my phone again, I find he still hasn’t replied.