Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
He even ordered my favorite things. I want to be so angry at him—and I am—but every time I think of that tea and that muffin, it makes something clench in my belly. It makes my heart even achier. How could he be such a complete jerk but then do such a thoughtful thing? No, actually, he turned into a jerk after he saw me.
Gosh, he must’ve been so disappointed.
So utterly disappointed that the girl he’s been corresponding with for the past six months turned out to be nothing like he imagined. Turned out to be so lacking.
“I really want to punch him,” Peyton says, once again pulling me out of my thoughts.
I swing my eyes over to hers. “I know.”
“Stupid fucking cowboy.”
Despite myself, my heart picks up speed.
And at such a silly thing too.
Yes, he’s a cowboy.
He has a ranch. I’m not sure where or what it’s called, but I know there’s a creek running through the middle of his land and he misses it. He didn’t tell me that in so many words, but the way he talked about it made me think he did. Which again goes to show that I didn’t even know him.
Not really.
In any case, it’s not really a special thing, being a cowboy. This is Montana; this is cowboy country. Every other guy who lives here is a cowboy. I grew up with them; and to be honest, my—and Peyton’s—experience hasn’t been really great. I mean, my dad is a cowboy and her dad, too, and neither of them is a paragon of virtue or anything. In fact, they’re downright evil. So again, he’s not really special, and there’s no need for me to go all shaky and weird.
Liar.
You know you have never seen a cowboy like him.
Even though he wasn’t really in his element and hadn’t even been a cowboy for eight years, I could still picture him out on the field, working the land, that big bronzed body of his weathering the sun. I could picture him wrangling a horse and roping cattle with those burly muscles. I bet he could tame a wild horse with only a look from his fiery dark eyes. Or he could stop a stampede with only the sound of his deep, rough voice.
But that’s neither here nor there as I answer Peyton. “Yup.”
“Of course he is,” Peyton concludes. “I knew I hated cowboys for a reason.”
Yeah. So again, all of this was really stupid, getting tangled up with a cowboy who also happens to be a felon. Which means I really need to stop thinking about him and move on with my life.
And that’s why I declare, “Movie time! Let’s stop talking about him and get our night started, shall we?”
She still watches me with a careful gaze. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me? Just to take your mind off of things.”
“I’m sure.”
“But are you, though?” she insists. “It’s the Bahamas.”
I chuckle. “I know, but I am. I’m just going to spend my time relaxing and maybe picking up some shifts at the library.”
And doing that thing I always wanted to do.
“Ugh. Fine.” Her shoulders sag. “I love you; you know that, don’t you?”
My smile is a little wobbly. “I know. I love you too.”
“You’re amazing and gorgeous and beautiful,” she says with a pointed stare. “Don’t let anyone make you feel any less, okay?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
She’s right. Not about the being gorgeous part but about the part that no one gets to make me feel any less. Least of all a man named Bo Porter that I’ve only known for six months.
To: Bo Porter
From: Peyton Turner
Dear Bo,
You’re right.
You’re so not good at making apologies because that was a shitty one. And normally, I’d tell you to go away, but you already know I’m desperate and stuck so I’ll accept it.
By the way, you also don’t know that you should probably say please when you want people to do something for you. As it is, notice how I granted you your wish and addressed you by your first name up top. And since you’re so unfamiliar with the proper etiquette, allow me to also tell you your response to this should be thank you.
As for my best friend, yes, she’s smart and she’s also none of your business.
Also, if—hypothetically—you did keep your fellow inmates from writing to me because you thought you were keeping me safe, let me tell you that you don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.
Anyway, please be advised that I’ll be sending you a list of questions for the assignment with my next letter.
Until next time,
Peyton
PS: Look how I granted you another one of your wishes down here too.
To: Peyton Turner
From: Bo Porter
Peyton,
Thank you.
For granting me my wishes. And for that lesson in etiquette. I especially liked the one where you taught me to say please. Must’ve skipped school the day they taught us that. But then again, you already know I don’t like school. Or reading for that matter. I know you thought that was something we had in common but sorry to disappoint you.