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I wanted him—the man who looked at me like I was worth looking at.
Some days I wasn’t very proud to be me, but I was always proud to be my dad’s son.
It was obvious he held a lot of love for the people in his life.
As far as friends went, I didn’t really have any—not because I didn’t want them, but because making friends as an adult is hard. Honestly, I enjoyed solitude, but there’s a difference between that and being lonely.
It made my head fuzzy, and I needed that little asshole to be crystal fucking clear.
But depression wasn’t a logical disease. It was an unexpected cold front in the middle of July. It was impossible to predict, which meant that I spent much of my time worrying about when the other shoe was going to drop. Not if, but when I would sink into another dark hole and have to decide to claw my way out of it. Even when I was happy, I was thinking about when I wouldn’t be.
Honestly, it was exhausting. It took up so much of my brain even though I recognized that there wasn’t very much I could do about it.
“Yes, you have. You just don’t have the results yet,” he said. Huh. What would it be like to have someone be so sure of you and your abilities?
“But you seem to have a monopoly on hot cowboys.” I said it without thinking. It got Weston’s attention, his head snapped up to look at me. Our eyes met for a fraction of a second and I immediately regretted it. The air hummed, and I did my best to ignore it.
even though the chances of my joining her for coffee were slim. I wanted to—Cam seemed great—but I just didn’t know how to have friends, really. I was afraid that if she talked to me for more than five minutes, she’d decide she didn’t like me as much as she thought she did. I was best in small doses.
I turned toward Wes, who was looking at me. He was always looking at me, and I was always looking at him.
First, I apparently had a thing for tattooed women in overalls who ignored me most of the time.
She was always tucking pens behind both of her ears. She was so immersed in her work that she didn’t realize she already had one, so she ended up with these little pen horns. It was fucking adorable. I liked her a lot.
“No, I literally can’t drive it,” she said. She was fiddling with the silver rings on a few of her fingers.
“You know,” she said, “I think I’m actually good. Thank you for offering, but it’s not urgent. I don’t want to derail your day.” Derail my day? I’d drive my truck off a cliff if it meant that I got a few moments alone with her, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Get in the truck, Ada.” My voice was more demanding than I’d intended; Ada’s spine went ramrod straight, her eyes finally met mine, and she was staring me down. “You don’t get to tell me what to do on Saturdays,” she said matter-of-factly. “I do when you’re being ridiculous,” I said.
“What are you doing?” she asked, sounding both annoyed and confused. “I’m teaching you how to drive a stick shift.” “I don’t want to learn how to drive a stick shift.” “Yes, you do,” I said. Ada let out an annoyed huff, but she didn’t deny it. I knew it—I’d seen her face back there, and I knew it. This was something I could do for her.
“I’m not going to be able to look at you while I’m driving, so answering in words would be good when I ask you a question.” “Yes, sir,” Ada said with an exaggerated eye roll. Well, that shot straight to my dick.
“That’s a lot to remember,” she said quietly. “It’s not as hard as it seems,” I said. “I promise.” After that, we were silent for a while. I could tell that Ada was focused on me, on our hands, on what I was doing—trying to take it all in—so I didn’t push a conversation. I let us be.
“I really can teach you how to drive stick, Ada, if you’ll let me. You don’t have to feel trapped like that again.”
“Yeah,” she finally said with a small smile. “Look at us, being open and shit.” “Feels kind of good, doesn’t it?” “Actually, yes,” she responded. “I—um—” She hesitated for a second. “Thank you. For making me feel less weird about dumping all of that on you. It’s nice to feel like I’m not the only one who has shit to deal with.” Yeah, it was.
Still, the way that he constantly made a point of respecting my space and my boundaries also made me feel so grounded. If I didn’t know any better, I would think that Weston was a genuinely good and decent man all the way through. Too bad that was impossible.
“Ada,” Weston said, using one hand to rub at his temple like he was the one entitled to be annoyed, “I did what I would’ve done for anyone else.” I ignored the way that made my stomach drop just a little bit.
My eyes tracked back up Weston’s frame, and I was met with a smirk. I’d just been caught, and as if getting caught openly ogling my boss wasn’t enough, he chose that moment to wink at me. A really good wink. One of those winks that makes your jaw drop and sends a heat wave down your spine.
Everything about her just looked so…free. I’d felt locked in a cage of my own making my entire life. One look at this woman and the first thing I felt was envy.
I wondered what it might be like to be not just liked but loved.
I’ve been described as icy, bitchy, and rude. I know I’m not super warm or overly kind, but the truth is, I’m just shy. I don’t think I’m a people person, certainly not in the way this entire family seems to be.
who knew how long breakfast lasted for a family that actually liked one another?
“I see you, Ada. I always see you, even when you won’t look at me.”
She usually wore overalls with a long-sleeved shirt or a tank top under them. I liked it when she wore a tank top because I could see her tattoos.
I liked that about her—her stubbornness—but it also drove me insane.
“You have to talk to me, Ada. You can’t avoid me like you’ve been doing since you got here. You have this idea of me in your head—which I’m willing to bet isn’t accurate—based on that night. I don’t think that’s fair, and in order for me to prove you wrong, you have to talk to me.” Damn, I was on a roll. “That’s my condition.”
why did she have to be so…her. So everything.
I started toward the passenger side of Weston’s truck, but he lightly grabbed my elbow and pulled me back toward his chest. “Driver’s side, sweetheart,” he said.
“Why are you apologizing?” he asked. His voice was thoughtful. “It’s okay to be scared when you’re doing something new.”
“Look at me.” I did. Weston’s green eyes were soft. “You’re probably going to fuck it up. A lot.” Well, that was reassuring. “But everyone does. There’s also no safer place to learn how to do this than right here. No one’s around. There are no other cars for you to hit or anything.”
“So when you feel that sweet spot, you’re going to give more on the gas,” he said. “A little give and a little go.” “Are you”—I looked at him, knowing a smile was working its way up my cheeks—“quoting How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days?” A blush crept up Wes’s cheeks. “Yeah, I guess I am,” he said.
Weston let out a laugh that felt like when you go out to bask in the sun after being in an air-conditioned space for too long. I could feel the warmth seeping into my fingers and toes. And so I laughed too. We laughed together, and the more we laughed, the harder it got to stop.
I thought back to that night at the bar, how he made me smile, and how he’d made me smile every day since—even when I wasn’t kind to him. He was like the sun. No matter what, he would keep coming up.
God, he was so gentle—so comforting. He talked to me the way people talk to plants when they want them to grow.
and I kept driving, trying not to get distracted by the suns—the one in the sky and the one sitting next to me—bathing everything I could see in light.
“Ada Hart, you are the only person whose ass looks that good in a pair of overalls,” Teddy said.
Teddy was great, but I hadn’t spent time with her in years. What if it took less than five minutes for her to realize that I actually suck?
Teddy, Emmy, and Cam all responded “Love you” before hanging up the phone. It was weird, being around all of these people who seemed genuinely to like and care for one another.
“But now that I do, I like her a lot. She’s whip-smart and funny and she works so fucking hard.
Ada wasn’t just “on my mind,” she was in it—in every nook and cranny.
And I had a nice time. Usually I feel out of place in situations like that, and by the time the night was over, I would’ve convinced myself that everyone there hated me and that all of us would be better off if they never saw me again.
Wes was still in the kitchen—I could feel him—so I stayed facing the counter instead of turning back to look at him. After a few seconds, I heard his boots make their way toward me, and then I felt his hand trail over my shoulder and move my hair to one side of my neck, and a shiver rocked my spine.
It left me feeling like there wasn’t anything about me that someone could love.
“You are earnest and talented, tenacious and funny.” I couldn’t have looked away from him if I’d tried. His green eyes gripped me and wouldn’t let go. “I would never insult you by calling you something as generic as nice.”
