Convincing Cara (Wishing Well, Texas Book 2) (11 page)

My friends had had the best intentions when we’d crafted my list of what I was looking for in a guy, but that had just been a creative way of disguising qualification requirements. Besides the fact that all the lists in the world could never come close to encapsulating my “perfect man.” He wasn’t a list—he was real. The only problem was he wasn’t interested.

Or, at least, I hadn’t thought he was.

Lately, Trace had been acting strangely. I’d first noticed it when he’d driven me home from church. There had been a
moment
, which I was ninety percent sure wasn’t just my imagination going wild, where I’d thought he was going to kiss me. Then, when he’d sat with me in the park, a second
moment
had occurred. I might have been able to chalk those both up to wishful thinking, but then another
moment
a couple of nights ago at the Tipsy Cow had happened.

The look he’d had in his eye when he’d asked me where Peter was had stolen my breath away. It was a heady combination of protectiveness and, well, ownership. For an all-too-brief second, I’d felt like I belonged to Trace. That in and of itself had been mind-boggling. Then, when he’d followed it up by telling me that I looked beautiful—
breathtakingly
beautiful—in a low raspy, voice, it’d caused my skin to break out in goosebumps and my lady parts to tingle with excitement. His words had washed over me and I’d been fairly certain I was in danger of melting like the Wicked Witch of the West into a puddle of lust right there in the back booth at the Tipsy Cow.

For the rest of the night, my entire body had been hyperaware of Trace’s nearness. I’d catalogued every brush of our arms, our knees, and our shoulders. I’d memorized every look, every word, and every touch we shared. When Bryson, the bartender, had announced last call, I had been sure Trace was going to offer to take me home or at least give me a goodnight kiss. But he hadn’t.

I could blame it on the fact that, halfway through the night, Colton had shown up and Trace knew I’d be riding home with him. But,
if
all of those things I’d experienced had been real, not just figments of my overactive imagination, Trace would have wanted to take me home, whether I had a ride or not.

As much as I wanted to make something out of the change in Trace’s behavior, I was most likely making a mountain out of a molehill. Maybe he’d just been waiting patiently for me to get out of his truck that day after church and I had projected the fact that I’d wanted to kiss him onto the situation. And he could have sat with me at the park because he’d overheard that I was being stood up by his sister and Destiny. And maybe, the other night at the Cow, he’d just been protective of me because we’d known each other our entire lives and he was a good guy and had thought what Peter had done had been out of line. As for the compliment, he might have just been surprised to see me that dressed up. It wasn’t like I made it a habit.

I needed to face facts that based solely on his track record, if Trace wanted to make a move, he had no problem doing it. So, whatever signals I might’ve wanted to believe he’d been sending, the sad truth was I was seeing, feeling, and experiencing what I
wanted
to be there, not what was actually happening.

Which was even more motivation to give bachelor number two a real shot and take Destiny’s advice. Tonight should be all about
fun
.

Turning my attention back to the hallway, I watched as the nurse’s shoulders relaxed as she nodded at whatever Dr. Hall was telling her. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but I could hear the calm in his authoritative voice. As a patient, I’d always appreciated that quality in a doctor. Usually, the circumstances that caused you to seek medical advice were scary, and having a physician that wasn’t self-assured was a foolproof way to slide down the slippery slope of uncertainty into a pit of hysteria. On the flip side of that medical coin, having a doctor who came across as both confident, competent—even cocky—was practically a guaranteed one-way ticket to Hope Island, where possibility lived and a positive outlook reigned supreme.

In all my interactions with various medical professionals, I’d never really stopped to think about how that same quality would transfer to coworkers. But it made sense that it would do just that. Every day, these people came to work and literally held life and death in their hands. They were in the mortality trenches. Having someone who could command with confidence had to be invaluable. Before I’d even seen him, just imagining that bachelor number two held that quality was enough to send my heart fluttering.

“Okay, thanks, Dr. Hall.” The nurse smiled before tucking the chart under her arm and rushing down the hall.

My heartbeat picked up speed as Dr. Hall turned, in what appeared to be slow motion, towards me. It was odd how everything else around me seemed to slow down yet my pulse was going a mile a minute. I was able to study his face—for what felt like a few minutes but I was sure was only seconds—before he noticed me sitting in the waiting room.

He was strikingly handsome. The first thing that caught my attention was his strong jaw, which was clean-shaven. Normally, I liked a little scruff, but Dr. Hall could definitely pull off not having a five-o’clock shadow. The next thing that I was drawn to was his eyes. Even from a few yards away, I could see that they were gray, which was an unusual color. Dark lashes surrounded his unique irises, and his dark brown hair perfectly complimented his olive-toned skin. He was…
hot
.

Harmony had been right. McSteamy and McDreamy who?

My unnoticed observance was over when bachelor number two’s gaze met mine. I lifted my hand in greeting and stood. His lips split as a smile formed on his too-handsome face, and his steps turned more purposeful as he made his way towards me.

“Cara?” he asked as he approached.

“Yes,” I replied a little more breathlessly than I’d meant to.

“Hi. I’m Brett.” He extended his hand.

I held my breath as I placed my hand in his. I braced myself for a tingle, a shiver, a jolt—some kind of reaction to our first physical contact. But, when his fingers wrapped around me and we were palm to palm, I felt…nothing. Not a tremor, not goosebumps, not even a tickle of anything. My reaction—or lack of one—was both surprising and disappointing, but I pushed that to the back of my mind.

Fun. This date was going to be all about fun.

“Nice to meet you.” My voice was stronger now.

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. There was an emergency, and I couldn’t get away,” he explained, still holding my hand in his.

“No problem. Are you ready to go?” I was more than ready to get out of the hospital. In fact, if I never stepped foot in another hospital for the rest of my life, it would be just fine with me.

“Yes. Let’s get out of here.” His smile grew wider, and I was once again struck with just how good-looking he was.

He dropped my hand, and as we made our way out the sliding doors, his hand rested on my lower back. The weight of his touch was fine. It didn’t send me to giggly-school-girl status, but it also didn’t make me uncomfortable.

“Did you want me to drive?” he asked when we reached the parking structure.

“No, I’ll meet you there.” If I had learned anything from my first date, it was that I was relieved that I hadn’t had to share an uncomfortable car ride with Peter.

“Great. See you in a few.” Brett leaned down and kissed my cheek before heading towards his car.

For a moment, I watched him go. He was gorgeous—there was no denying that. And he had a sexy stride combined with an air of confidence and maturity Peter did not possess. It was strange that, after having shaken his hand and his having led me by the small of my back, his appearance seemed less appealing than it had before. Did chemistry happen immediately? There was no question that I found Brett attractive; but I wasn’t sure if I was attracted to him.

Shaking my head slightly as I walked to my car, I tried to silence the voices in my brain. They were bringing up a certain sandy-haired cowboy I was attracted to. Tonight was not about Trace; it was about fun. Fun with a handsome, available, maybe even interested doctor.

That prospect should have made me a lot more excited than I was.

Trace

“He could find a whisper in a whirlwind.”

~ Dolly Briggs

A
yawn claimed
me as I pulled up in front of the barn at Circle M. It was early Saturday morning, and I hadn’t slept a wink last night after I’d seen Cara leave her house in another knockout dress. In all the years I’d known Cara, I’d only ever seen her in dresses at church on Sundays, her high school graduation, and the few school dances she’d been able to attend. But none of them held a candle to the two I’d seen her in over the past week.

The red dress she’d worn on Wednesday night had been hotter than a tar roof in the middle of July. Last night, she’d stepped out of her front door in a pinkish dress that had clung to every dip and mound, every slope and valley of her incredible figure. That skintight material had showcased her incredible body like nothing else I’d seen her wear. Cara was a petite girl, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t rocking a pinup-girl-worthy body. Last night, her dangerous curves had been on full display, and—unlike her normal, much more conservative wardrobe—it had left little to the imagination.

After cutting the engine, I stepped down from my truck and adjusted my jeans. I might’ve still been half asleep, but the image of Cara as she’d walked to her Jeep, the sun setting behind her casting her in a seductive silhouette, had the man downstairs wide awake. I hesitated before making my way into the barn, where my office was located. The entire drive over, I’d been trying to convince myself that I was going there, to my office, on a Saturday to catch up on work. Work I’d been having a difficult time staying focused on over the past few weeks. Now that I was there, the real reason for my arrival was undeniable, even to myself. It wasn’t to catch up on paperwork.

Instead of heading into the barn, my feet carried me past it and down the path that led to the east side of the property, where Cara’s single story farmhouse stood. Her red Jeep was sitting in front of her house. It was six thirty a.m., so chances were she hadn’t spent the night anywhere. I might not have had any right to be relieved, but I was.

Just as I was turning to do what I’d told myself I was there for, her front door opened. My heart stopped beating when I heard her voice. Sound carried pretty far on quiet mornings on the ranch.

Was someone with her? Had the “lucky” underwear she’d told me about when I’d taken her home from the bar actually been lucky? Was the guy she’d worn that body-hugging dress for still there?

Her vehicle was the only one parked in front of her garage. But that didn’t mean anything. They could have driven together, or maybe he’d taken Lyft or Uber.

My heart began beating once again as Cara stepped out onto her porch. Alone. Talking on the phone.

Relief swept through me like a tidal wave. It was immediately followed by another sensation crashing over me: arousal.

This morning, Cara wasn’t in a drool-inducing dress. Instead, she was wearing the country-girl equivalent of Victoria’s Secret lingerie—at least what country boys considered its equal. Daisy Dukes and a white tank top.

Holy shit
.

Her face was scrubbed clean, and I don’t think she’d ever looked as beautiful as she did right then. The rays of the rising sun blanketed her with an ethereal glow. Her golden skin shimmered like a diamond. I was so mesmerized that I almost missed hearing the conversation she was having about her date the night before.

“I wore my coral bodycon dress,” she relayed as she made her way down the three steps of her front porch.

Coral. I had been close with pinkish. And I wasn’t sure what bodycon was, but I liked it. A lot.

From where I was standing beneath the large oak, I was pretty sure she wouldn’t notice me unless she walked to the end of her driveway. For a second, I thought about whether I should head back to my office or step out of the shadows and announce my presence. One of those things had to happen because, let’s face it, I was definitely dipping my toe into stalker waters.

I hadn’t made up my mind what my next move should be when she spoke again.

“Yes, you were right. He is so hot…”

Seriously
.

“And really, really nice…”

Great.

“And the doctor thing is really working for him. He is hotter than McSteamy and McDreamy…”

Fuck me.

“And he was so funny…”

Funny?
That single declaration had my heart sinking like a cement-shoed body the mob was getting rid of. Hot, I could deal with. Nice? Whatever. The doctor thing was definitely a blow, yet not a fatal one. But funny? Funny was real competition.

This conversation kept getting worse and worse. There was no reason I should wait around to hear about the new great guy in her life. Biting my tongue and not telling Cara what I felt was a crapshoot. I had been betting on her not meeting someone special, that somehow, someway, her dating would make her realize that what she really wanted was right in front of her. Obviously, I’d overestimated my appeal. Knowing I only had myself to blame, I turned to leave her to her girl talk—when I heard one word that stopped me dead in my tracks.

“But…”

I’d never been so happy to hear the word
but
before in my life.

“We just didn’t click. You know. I mean, it was fine. Nice. We talked a lot about his career. I totally understand that he lives and breathes medicine, but I’m ready to put anything even remotely medical-related behind me. Plus, I don’t know… He was attractive, yes, but I wasn’t attracted to him. Even before we went to dinner. We shook hands and there was nothing there. I mean, it was fine. But I want more than fine. I want fireworks. Or at least a sparkler.” She sounded disappointed. Defeated.

She didn’t need to be. Hell, if she wanted fireworks, I could give her fireworks.

“Yeah, no… I don’t think I’ll see him again.”