Page 32 of Seeking Her Studs

The whole thing is formal. And that’s mostly how it’s been this week. Formal and a bit boring. But it’s given us all the chance to take a breather and step back, which was very much needed.

“Any big plans today?” Reese asks me, as he always does.

And I start responding with my same factory reset type of answer. “I’ll probably just work on the camper later.” I see their eyes wandering to their plates, probably knowing what I’ll say next. I sit up a bit straighter. “But before that, I actually might be going on a date,” I blurt out before my filter can stop me. I guess my inner drama queen can’t stay caged up longer than a week. It’s not technically a lie, as my goal is to go on a date. But the chances of it happening are probably about as slim as running into Bigfoot on the way to the bathroom.

Colt’s fork clatters to his plate and Briggs lets out a choked cough. Well, at least there’s finally some excitement around here.

“A date?” Reese clarifies as if I meant to say something entirely different.

“Yeah,” I realize I can’t provide much more detail, so I quickly change the subject before he can ask more questions. “But I really miss doing yoga, so I was also hoping to do some today. Do you guys know if there is a yoga studio in town? Or hell, I’d even take pilates at this p-”

“Back up, Hollywood.” Colt interrupts me. “Date? With who?”

I’m tempted to say, ‘you, you dummy!’, just to give him the scare he deserves. Because I swear that’s why his tone sounds like it does- he’s afraid he unwittingly agreed to date me. As if fucking me a week ago means he’s entered into some unspoken contract.

“Someone I met online.” I smile pleasantly. “We’re going on a hike at Cascade Falls.” I add that last detail in to at least make it all seem less like a lie.

Colt shakes his head and drags his hands down his face.

“Hollywood,” he sounds exasperated. “You don’t see any issues with meeting a stranger alone in the woods?” Then he looks down at his plate and shakes his head. “Thank god Kaylee isn’t here to witness this conversation.”

“I know it sounds sketchy. But he’s a really good guy.” I withhold the information that it’s actually three guys. That I don’t know. And I don’t even know if it’s true that any of them are good guys. They might not even be guys at all. Maybe I was being majorly catfished. Even though in my heart that feels impossible, I wouldn’t be the first person to feel that way, only to show up to an old guy named Hank who lives in his ex-wife’s basement.

The table is silent for a moment. I think I might have finally shocked the three of them into surrender. After all that the four of us have been through, I can’t believe this is what finally did it.

“Well, in this one case, it will be okay,” Reese says, stretching out his long body in his chair as he sips his cup of coffee. Of course, it’s Reese who couldn’t stay silent for very long. And his smug grin tells me he’s got an ace in that tight back pocket of his.

“And why’s that?” I say through glared eyes, sensing trouble from the original troublemaker himself.

“Because I’m also hiking to Cascade Falls this morning. I’ll give you a ride and make sure you’re safe when you finally meet this guy.”

“Oh, great.” I say with a tight smile, mustering all my acting skills into our eye contact. “Sounds just lovely.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Blaire

On the road again.

The lyrics to the Willie Nelson song cascade through my brain, stuck in a never-ending loop.

Damn it. I didn’t even know the lyrics to that song 45 minutes ago, but now Reese’s rendition is the only thing filling my head as he pretends to be minding his own business a few strides behind me.

“Can’t you sing another song?” I say as I twist my body to face him.

He shrugs one shoulder. “Sure,” he meets my eyes, looking unphased by my outburst.

“Okay.” I say in a clipped tone as I turn back to face the trail.

A few moments later, he starts humming the tune of the Mandy theme song, the show I starred in when I was a kid.

I clench my fists and turn back towards him.

“Very funny,” I grumble.

He gives me back a bright, self-satisfied smile. His grey t-shirt clings to the sweat on his body and defines his pecs. His skin glows from the rosy red hint of exertion, and it looks damn good on him. The entire sight makes me feel like someone just mainlined champagne into my blood, my body feeling fizzy and excited. I resent how gorgeous he is. Most people I know have to spend thousands of dollars a month to be that beautiful, but he rolls out of bed looking that way and only gets more attractive the sweatier he gets.

“Hey, if you’re feeling grumpy because you got stood up, then I can choose a more empowering song? That tire slash song by Miranda Lambert? That might cheer you up.” He starts singing a very botched version of the lyrics enthusiastically.

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