Convincing Cara (Wishing Well, Texas Book 2) by Melanie Shawn Page A
Authors: Melanie Shawn
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else, but it was one I needed to hear. I realized as I stared at those three letters that, in my mission to take the pressure off any serious relationship I would enter someday, I’d inadvertently shifted that responsibility to my starter affair. Instead of looking at these dates like opportunities to meet some great guys and have some fun , I was turning this into a job interview. And looking forward to them about as much.
My friends had had the best intentions when we’d crafted my list of what I was looking for in a guy, but that had just been a creative way of disguising qualification requirements. Besides the fact that all the lists in the world could never come close to encapsulating my “perfect man.” He wasn’t a list—he was real. The only problem was he wasn’t interested.
Or, at least, I hadn’t thought he was.
Lately, Trace had been acting strangely. I’d first noticed it when he’d driven me home from church. There had been a moment , which I was ninety percent sure wasn’t just my imagination going wild, where I’d thought he was going to kiss me. Then, when he’d sat with me in the park, a second moment had occurred. I might have been able to chalk those both up to wishful thinking, but then another moment a couple of nights ago at the Tipsy Cow had happened.
The look he’d had in his eye when he’d asked me where Peter was had stolen my breath away. It was a heady combination of protectiveness and, well, ownership. For an all-too-brief second, I’d felt like I belonged to Trace. That in and of itself had been mind-boggling. Then, when he’d followed it up by telling me that I looked beautiful— breathtakingly beautiful—in a low raspy, voice, it’d caused my skin to break out in goosebumps and my lady parts to tingle with excitement. His words had washed over me and I’d been fairly certain I was in danger of melting like the Wicked Witch of the West into a puddle of lust right there in the back booth at the Tipsy Cow.
For the rest of the night, my entire body had been hyperaware of Trace’s nearness. I’d catalogued every brush of our arms, our knees, and our shoulders. I’d memorized every look, every word, and every touch we shared. When Bryson, the bartender, had announced last call, I had been sure Trace was going to offer to take me home or at least give me a goodnight kiss. But he hadn’t.
I could blame it on the fact that, halfway through the night, Colton had shown up and Trace knew I’d be riding home with him. But, if all of those things I’d experienced had been real, not just figments of my overactive imagination, Trace would have wanted to take me home, whether I had a ride or not.
As much as I wanted to make something out of the change in Trace’s behavior, I was most likely making a mountain out of a molehill. Maybe he’d just been waiting patiently for me to get out of his truck that day after church and I had projected the fact that I’d wanted to kiss him onto the situation. And he could have sat with me at the park because he’d overheard that I was being stood up by his sister and Destiny. And maybe, the other night at the Cow, he’d just been protective of me because we’d known each other our entire lives and he was a good guy and had thought what Peter had done had been out of line. As for the compliment, he might have just been surprised to see me that dressed up. It wasn’t like I made it a habit.
I needed to face facts that based solely on his track record, if Trace wanted to make a move, he had no problem doing it. So, whatever signals I might’ve wanted to believe he’d been sending, the sad truth was I was seeing, feeling, and experiencing what I wanted to be there, not what was actually happening.
Which was even more motivation to give bachelor number two a real shot and take Destiny’s advice. Tonight should be all about fun .
Turning my attention back to the hallway, I watched as the nurse’s shoulders relaxed as she nodded at
My friends had had the best intentions when we’d crafted my list of what I was looking for in a guy, but that had just been a creative way of disguising qualification requirements. Besides the fact that all the lists in the world could never come close to encapsulating my “perfect man.” He wasn’t a list—he was real. The only problem was he wasn’t interested.
Or, at least, I hadn’t thought he was.
Lately, Trace had been acting strangely. I’d first noticed it when he’d driven me home from church. There had been a moment , which I was ninety percent sure wasn’t just my imagination going wild, where I’d thought he was going to kiss me. Then, when he’d sat with me in the park, a second moment had occurred. I might have been able to chalk those both up to wishful thinking, but then another moment a couple of nights ago at the Tipsy Cow had happened.
The look he’d had in his eye when he’d asked me where Peter was had stolen my breath away. It was a heady combination of protectiveness and, well, ownership. For an all-too-brief second, I’d felt like I belonged to Trace. That in and of itself had been mind-boggling. Then, when he’d followed it up by telling me that I looked beautiful— breathtakingly beautiful—in a low raspy, voice, it’d caused my skin to break out in goosebumps and my lady parts to tingle with excitement. His words had washed over me and I’d been fairly certain I was in danger of melting like the Wicked Witch of the West into a puddle of lust right there in the back booth at the Tipsy Cow.
For the rest of the night, my entire body had been hyperaware of Trace’s nearness. I’d catalogued every brush of our arms, our knees, and our shoulders. I’d memorized every look, every word, and every touch we shared. When Bryson, the bartender, had announced last call, I had been sure Trace was going to offer to take me home or at least give me a goodnight kiss. But he hadn’t.
I could blame it on the fact that, halfway through the night, Colton had shown up and Trace knew I’d be riding home with him. But, if all of those things I’d experienced had been real, not just figments of my overactive imagination, Trace would have wanted to take me home, whether I had a ride or not.
As much as I wanted to make something out of the change in Trace’s behavior, I was most likely making a mountain out of a molehill. Maybe he’d just been waiting patiently for me to get out of his truck that day after church and I had projected the fact that I’d wanted to kiss him onto the situation. And he could have sat with me at the park because he’d overheard that I was being stood up by his sister and Destiny. And maybe, the other night at the Cow, he’d just been protective of me because we’d known each other our entire lives and he was a good guy and had thought what Peter had done had been out of line. As for the compliment, he might have just been surprised to see me that dressed up. It wasn’t like I made it a habit.
I needed to face facts that based solely on his track record, if Trace wanted to make a move, he had no problem doing it. So, whatever signals I might’ve wanted to believe he’d been sending, the sad truth was I was seeing, feeling, and experiencing what I wanted to be there, not what was actually happening.
Which was even more motivation to give bachelor number two a real shot and take Destiny’s advice. Tonight should be all about fun .
Turning my attention back to the hallway, I watched as the nurse’s shoulders relaxed as she nodded at
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