Page 8 of Duke
“Hey.”
She traps her bottom lip between her teeth. “I was going to saynerds unite.” She taps her bottle to mine. “I loved school too. It was the one thing I was reliably good at. The one thing I was praised for.”
“Seriously?” I grin and tip my chin toward the board. “What about your game? You’re a fuckin’ rock star at darts.”
Her cheeks flush pink. “I’m proud of that, yeah.”
“You should be proud you started your own business too. That’s awesome.”
Wheeler nods, looking down at the mouth of her bottle. “Thanks for saying that.”
“Why? Are you not proud?”
“I am.”
“But?”
Her eyes flick to meet mine. They glimmer. “How’d you know there was a but?”
“Yours is cute.”
“You noticed.”
“I have two eyes and a pulse. Your boots are beautiful. Who’s not proud of you for taking a risk and doing something different?”
Her eyelashes flutter. “No one’s ever put it like that.” Turning her head, she glances across the bar and thinks for a minute before turning back to me. “My dad is a lawyer. My grandfather’s a lawyer. My older brother went to law school and now works for my dad. My younger brother is the only one who supports what I do, maybe because he’s still in college and doesn’t want to be a lawyer either. But everyone else…they don’t get why I chose this career.Iknow this is what I want to do.” She lifts her leg, turning her foot so I can admire her boot. “But as I’m sure Mollie told you, Bellamy Brooks hasn’t done as well as we’d hoped it would by this point. If it wasn’t for her inheritance, I’m not sure we’d be able to keep going.”
“Now you can, though. So keep going.”
“You know, I’ve thought about quitting more times than I can count. But I just…when push comes to shove, I can’t do it. I love the job too much. Love our boots. I’m a creative at heart, so I know I’d be miserable if I was chained to a desk all day doing, I don’t know, whatever lawyers do.”
I offer her a tight smile, moving so that we’re standing side by side at the table. “But that’s what’s expected of you, so it’s hard not to feel pressure.”
“Yes! Sometimes I think it’d be easier to just fold and do what everyone else is doing. Like, sometimes I think they got it right and I got life all wrong, because look how hard I’m struggling.”
Setting my beer down, I wonder if it’s too soon to ask this girl on a date. Ilikehow honest she is. How fearless. Intelligent. The way she thinks—her doubts—it’s like a breath of fresh air.
I understand where Wheeler is coming from. My brothers all seem so certain that the path they’re on is the right one. But me? I’m constantly questioning what I’m doing, where I’m going. If I’m asking for too much to wantmorethan the admittedly great life that was passed down to me.
Being with someone like Wheeler makes me feel a little less alone. Maybe I’m not asking for too much.
“But really, why boots?” I ask. “How’d you decide on that particular…line of business, I guess?”
Wheeler steps toward me to pick up one of the darts, long forgotten, on the whiskey barrel table between us. She’s close enough that her knee brushes my leg. Awareness spreads like wildfire through my thigh and settles low in my middle.
Having chemistry with this woman on all different levels is the best kind of mindfuck there is. I connect plenty with people in a physical sense. But mentally? Emotionally?
Not often enough.
“I was born and raised in Texas. As a baby gift, my grandparents gave me my first pair of boots. They were powder pink. Soft soled, crib shoes basically, with the cutest white stitching. I always say that’s where my obsession started. In preschool, all I would wear was cowboy boots. Pink ones, glittery ones, ones with flowers and butterflies and princesses on them. Drove my mom crazy.”
“Cute.” I lean forward so that our knees touch against the side of the barrel.
Wheeler meets my eyes. They’re alive, liquid with interest. “But as I got older, I could never find just the right pair. I wanted classic shapes—you know, the pointy toes, the ear pulls, all that—but with a fun, fashion-forward twist. So Mollie and I decided to make them.”
“Of course you did.” I scoff.
She cuts me a look. “What does that mean?”
