Sara nodded. “I can understand that. It’s just that I’ve gotten used to having you around. And if you don’t buy the practice, who will?”
“Someone who’s not me.” But even as I said it, a sliver of discomfort snaked through me. I felt like I’d blown up my whole life coming here. But going back to my old life didn’t feel right, either. So far, I’d stayed, keeping me in a rare state of indecision. I felt like I was treading water.
“You just need to get out and meet some people. Do you want to come to Backwoods Brews with me tonight? I could introduce you to some of the single men.”
I rapidly shook my head. “No, no. Men only lead to trouble.”
Sara gave me a knowing smile. “Maybe if you found a man here, you’d feel a little more settled in. I know every bachelor in town.”
Thoughts of Thatcher popped into my head.
Thatcher’s eyes dropping down to stare at my cleavage. The slow, unconscious lick of his lips as he did it. The way he leaned against the truck casually, like he’d never been bothered by anything in his life.
He was the only man who’d popped into my mind during my recent evening self-care sessions.
Thatcher tearing off my dress.
Thatcher bending me over the seat of his truck.
Thatcher giving me a proper welcome to the Ozarks, mountain man style.
That was where my nightly thoughts had been wandering lately.
My cheeks flushed pink.
“No matchmaking. But I wouldn’t mind hanging out again. I had fun the last time we went out.”
She assessed me before she spoke, as though she was aware of all my secrets.
“Awesome. We’ll do another movie night this weekend. And my friend Brook is having a party in a few weeks. We’ll get you all glammed up Deer Springs style. Not that you need it. You’re gorgeous and… fancier than most of us around here.”
I smiled. “Sure. It’s a plan. Thanks for inviting me.”
I’d let Sara and her friends give me a makeover. I’d probably end up in a tiny denim skirt and a pair of cowgirl boots. But it would befun. And maybe it would help me feel like I fit in around here.
Sara said, “But getting back to what we were talking about, it doesn’t sound like Thatcher did anything wrong. I’m not trying to take sides, but… he has a big route, and if he hand-picked up everyone’s trash from next to the front door, he’d never get done in a day.”
“Iknowthat. But he should have done it as a courtesy. It’s not like it happens every time, and acting the way he does means he’s going to lose a lot of business to the competition. As soon as Hank sells the law firm to me, I’m changing trash companies.”
Sara snorted. “There are no other trash companies, Shelby. He’s it.”
I wrinkled my brow. “Well, who did it before him?”
“His dad.”
“Oh.”
“Thatcher’s not so bad. I bet if you talked to him you’d see he’s a real sweetheart. And he plays a serious guitar, too. Sometimes he comes in here on Saturday evenings and plays for the crowd. Although he’s usually at the Bear Den on Red Oak Mountain.”
The Bear Den. That sounded fitting.
The man resembled a bear. A big, happy furry bear. One with a wicked glint in his brown eyes, unruly, wavy hair barely contained, and a burly beard to match. And that was all without talking about his muscles.
Not that I’d noticedanyof them.
Or the way he seemed to take an unhealthy level of pleasure in pissing me off.
Or the way his eyes wandered into no trespassing zones, lingering on the curve of my tops for far longer than any civilized man would allow himself.
