I type my name and number in before handing his phone back to him. My blush strengthens a million times over when he adds a little heart emoji after my name before slipping his phone back into his pocket.
I’m half tempted to pinch myself and check if I’m dreaming, but I couldn’t come up with this even in my wildest dreams.
“For Bo?” a waitress calls as she slides a takeout bag onto the counter.
Bo glances over his shoulder, raising his hand in acknowledgement.
“I’ve got to get back to the ranch,” he says, frowning and squeezing my hand. “I’ll call you tonight? We can sort out details for dinner.”
“That sounds perfect.” I can hardly keep myself from squealing in excitement, settling for a wide smile. “I’ll talk to you tonight.”
He leans closer and presses a kiss to my cheek, fleeting and a little nervous. It sets off a riot of butterflies in my stomach. His eyes are the same dark brown they’ve always been, but so much more affectionate than I’m used to as he pulls away. I wavegoodbye to him as he gathers his food and heads back out to his truck.
Once the door closes behind him, I turn back to my food and let my hair fall in front of my face to hide the blush on my cheeks. I’m smiling like a maniac, my chest tight with excitement.
I’ve never been so flustered in my life, but I can’t help it when I’m with Bo. How am I going to survive going on a date with him?
God. Adatewith Bo Montgomery.
What has my life become?
Chapter Six
BO
I lookup in surprise at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.
Mom’s already out feeding the chickens, and Dad is in bed with a cold. With Oakley off getting ready for next semester, I should be the only one up this early.
But lo and behold, Magnolia herself rounds the corner.
Her blonde curls are up in a sloppy bun, the bags under her eyes more pronounced than I've ever seen them. She looks like she hasn't slept.
She’s definitely up early at least, especially for a Saturday. Usually someone has to drag her out of bed around lunchtime just to make sure she’s alive.
She’s also remarkably quiet.
“Morning, Maggie.”
She doesn't answer me, keeping her back turned to me as she roots through the fridge for juice.
Maggie isn’t exactly a chatterbox these days, but she keeps shooting me glances as she trudges to the cabinets. Her brows are furrowed and her lips are set in a thin line. Silent treatmentisn’t Maggie’s style. She’s the youngest of us, and she’s always had a whip sharp tongue. I’ve always known her to speak her mind, even when she was a little kid. Right now, she’s obviously struggling to keep her mouth shut.
Either something’s wrong and she wants my advice, or I fucked up royally.
I should brace myself.
“What’s going on, Maggie?” I ask, pushing my plate off to the side.
She just shrugs, not meeting my eyes. Okay, so I’m in trouble. I can’t think of anything I’ve done recently to piss her off, but there must be something.
“Come on,” I say, watching as she pours herself a glass of orange juice. “You’re up early and you look mad as a cat. Tell me what’s wrong.”
She looks at me at last, her hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion. It feels like she’s trying to look straight into my skull and find whatever answer she wants for herself. She takes a sip of her juice and leans back against the counter, continuing to stare me down.
“Been to any parties lately?” she asks.
Usually, that would be a tease, a poke at my nearly non-existent social life. She sounds too serious this time. Suspicious, not joking.
