Page 9 of Stick Around,

“Seven. Right.” I nodded, watching him as he sauntered away.

The moment the door closed behind me, I dropped my purse, pulled out my phone, and frantically dialed April.

“Hello?” Her voice came through cheerfully.

“April, what the actual hell?” I hissed, pacing in front of the window that overlooked a pasture where horses grazed peacefully. “This place is like a Hallmark movie crossed with a calendar of hot ranch hands! There are three of them. Three! And they’re all attractive in completely different ways that attack different parts of my brain!”

“Score!” April’s delighted cackle made me pull the phone away from my ear. “Tell me everything. Details. Heights. Bicep measurements if possible.”

“This isn’t funny! I’m not emotionally equipped for this!” I collapsed onto the bed, which was incredibly comfortable. “There’s a flirty one with a slight country accent who wants me to be some kind of ranch influencer. There’s a broody shirtless one who looks at me like I’m nothing more than a bother. And the third one seems to be a donkey-whispering Disney prince!”

“This is the best thing I’ve ever heard.” April was practically cracking up now. “Your rebound options are a cowboy buffet!”

“I didn’t come here for a rebound! I came here to... to...” I trailed off, realizing I wasn’t entirely sure why I had come.

“To move on from Jason the Jackass by riding horses instead of moping,” April supplied helpfully. “The hot cowboys are a bonus feature. Well, unless you want to ride them too.”

I groaned into a pillow. “What have you gotten me into?”

“You can thank me with details and pictures. Lots of pictures.”

After hanging up, I sent her a picture, all right. A picture of my middle finger.

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My hair was brushed out and fell in a silky wave, my teeth were brushed, and deodorant was applied. The mirror reflected back a woman who looked considerably less frazzled than I felt.

It was just dinner, not a date. Not even adjacent to a date-like activity.

But yet, here I was, debating whether to wear mascara and lip tint like I was preparing for one. I’d changed outfits twice already, settling on dark jeans and a light blue sleeveless blouse.

I reached for my mascara, pulled my hand back, then immediately grabbed it again. I couldn’t show up looking like a cave troll, now, could I?

Two coats later, I slipped on my flip-flops and headed toward the main lodge, rehearsing potential conversation topics in my head. My phone buzzed with a text before I could contemplate whether they’d want to hear about the time I split my pants ten minutes before the morning bell rang.

April: Get pics of the cowboys or I’m reporting you.

Me: Reporting me for what? Not being stalker enough?

April: Gross negligence of best friend duties.

Me: Pretty sure that’s not a thing.

April: Well, it is now, and after that rude picture from earlier, I deserve compensation.

Me: I’ll see if they have any hot cowgirl sisters for you.

April: Have I told you lately that I love you?

I snorted and put my phone in my purse as I stepped through the door to the lodge, the scent of something delicious hitting me immediately. My stomach growled in response, reminding me I’d been too nervous to eat much at lunch.

Kellan appeared from what I assumed was the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Quinn! Perfect timing.”

“Do you need any help?” I offered, hovering uncertainly in the entryway.

“Nope, you’re our guest of honor. Make yourself comfortable.” He gestured toward the large table that was set for four.

I slid into a chair, suddenly feeling nervous. There didn’t appear to be any other guests attending this dinner, so it would just be me and the three ranch owners.

Reid emerged from the kitchen carrying two plates, Walter trotting at his heels. The dog immediately abandoned him to greet me, sitting next to my chair in a lemur stance, staring up with soulful eyes.