I want to learn how to start and run a successful business. I’m covering all the bases.”
“Wow, impressive!” he said. “You’re what, twenty-two?” She looked young. Very young. Too young for him, certainly.
“Twenty-three.”
“I’ve got seven years on you, kid,” he said. “And I’ll tell you, following your passion is where it’s at. I’m a big believer in that.”
She sobered for a moment; he wasn’t sure why, but then those green eyes of hers lit up again. “Me, too.”
They spent the next twenty minutes talking about everything from the differences between Texas and Montana cattle and terrain, where to get the best coffee in Rust Creek Falls (she was partial to Daisy’s Donuts but he loved the strong brew at the Gold Rush Diner), the wonders and pitfalls of having many brothers, and her favorite foods for each meal (omelet, chicken salad sandwich on a very fresh baguette, any kind of pasta with any kind of sauce). They talked about steak for ten minutes and then steak fries, thick and crispy, seasoned just right and dipped in quality ketchup.
The wings were suddenly gone but he could talk to her for hours more. They laughed, traded stories, watched the dog walkers, and she told him funny stories about Dobby and Harry. He loved the way the waning sun lit up her red hair and he felt so close to her that he leaned across the table, about to take both her hands to give them a squeeze. He truly felt as if he’d made a real friend here tonight.
But when he leaned, Lily leaned.
Her face—toward his.
He darted back.
She’d thought he was going to kiss her?
He cleared his throat, glancing at his watch. “It’s almost nine? How did that happen?” He tried for a good-natured smile, but who the hell knew what his expression really looked like. Xander had never been able to hide how he felt. And how he felt right now was seriously awkward.
He liked Lily. A lot. But did he like her that way? He didn’t think so. She was a kid! Twenty-three to his thirty. Just starting out. And she was the furthest thing from the women he usually dated. Perfume. Long red nails. Slinky outfits and high heels. Sleek hair. And okay, big breasts and lush hips. He liked a woman with curves. Lily was...cute but not exactly his usual type. Not that he could really tell under her loose jeans and the hoodie around her waist obscuring much of her body.
All he knew was that he liked her. A lot.
As a friend.
“Yikes,” she said, that plastered smile from when they first met on her face again. She jumped up. “Dobby and Harry are going to wonder where I am.”
He collected their containers and stuffed them back in the bag, his stomach twisting with the knowledge that he’d made things uncomfortable. Never lean toward a woman, he reminded himself, unless you’re leaning for a kiss.
“I live pretty close to the park, so I’ll just jog home,” she said quickly, tossing him an even more forced smile. “I’m dressed for it,” she added. “Thanks for dinner!” she called, and ran off.
I’ll drive you, he wanted to call out to her, but she was too fast. He watched her reach the corner, hoping she’d turn back and wave so he could see her freckles and bright eyes again, but she didn’t.
Hell if he didn’t want to see her again. Soon.
The Ambling A was a sight for the ole sore eyes. Sore brain, really. Xander had thought about Lily all the way home, half wanting to call her to make sure she’d gotten home all right, half not because she might read into it.
Which made him feel like a jerk again, flattering himself.
But the way she’d leaned in for that kiss...
He would not lead her on.
He parked his new silver pickup and got out, the sprawling dark wood ranch house, which literally looked like it was made from Lincoln Logs, making him smile. He loved this place—the house, the land, the hard work to get the ranch the way they wanted. Xander headed in, never knowing who’d be home. Hunter, the second-oldest Crawford (Xander was third born), lived in a cabin on the property. A widower since the birth of his daughter, Hunter and his six-year-old, Wren, needed their own space, but the girl still had five uncles to dote on her. Logan, the eldest, had recently moved to town now that he was married with a baby to raise, but he worked on the ranch, as they all did, so it was almost like he’d never left.
The place sure had changed since the day they’d arrived. They’d mended fences for miles, repaired outbuildings, cleaned out barns, burned ditches and worked on the main house itself when they had the time and energy. A month later, it was looking good but they had a ways to go.
He came through the front door into the big house with its wide front hall and grand staircase leading up to a gallery-style landing on the second floor. He saw his dad and three of his brothers up there, going over blueprints, which meant his dad had proposed a change—again—and his sons were trying to talk him out of it. There was many a midnight argument taking place at the Ambling A. When they heard the door close behind him, they all came downstairs.
“Well, well, if isn’t the knight in shining armor,” Wilder, the youngest of the brothers, said with a grin.
Xander made a face at Wilder and shook his head, hoping they’d go back to talking blueprints. “Lily is hardly a damsel in distress. She’s very focused on what she wants. She can definitely take care of herself.” The more he thought about her, about what they’d talked about, her plans, her dreams, the more impressed he was.
Logan smiled. “Sounds like the date switch was a date match. Knox’s loss.”
Knox wasn’t around. He probably had left to get away from their matchmaking father.
“So? Was it a love match?” Finn asked. “When’s your next date?”
Twenty-nine-year-old Finn was the dreamer of the group. He could keep dreaming on this one, because another date wasn’t going to happen.
Lily was too young. And Xander was too jaded. She’d barely lived, and he was already cynical about love and guarded.
Xander rolled his eyes. “Get real. She’s twenty-three. C’mon. And very nice.”
“Ah, he used the kiss-of-death word. Nice,” Wilder said. “Nothing gonna happen there.”
That settled for the Crawford men, they turned their attention back to the blueprints. Xander scowled as they ducked their heads over the plans, gabbing away as if they didn’t just dismiss a lovely, smart, determined young woman as “nice.”
Oh, wait. He was the one who’d called her that.
But his brothers had stamped her forehead with the word, which meant she wasn’t hot or sexy or desirable. All without even laying eyes on her.
They’d written her off.
And so did you. You’re the one who put her in the friend zone in the first place.
His dad came in from the kitchen with a beer. “Ah, Xander, you’re back from the date! Have you already set up a second one?”
“You don’t even know if we had anything in common, Dad,” Xander said. “Maybe we weren’t attracted to each other.”
“I just have a feeling,” Max Crawford said with a smile and a tip of his beer at his son. That feeling should tell his father otherwise.
“I think we’re just meant to be friends, Dad,” Xander said.
“Meaning she’s not his type,” Wilder threw in. “Xander likes his women with big hair,