Which should prove just how fucked up she was.
Because to make matters worse, Porter, the one-night-stand wonder, remained clueless to his effect on her.
Which should have relieved her but basically just pissed her off.
“Earth to Addie.”
She glanced over at Porter, remembering that he’d asked her if she was okay. “I’m fine. Just tired. Long day.”
“Are you sure that’s all it is?”
Adele wasn’t sure how to respond. Because, in truth, that wasn’t what was wrong with her at all.
He was what was wrong with her.
Him and his one-night stands that he seemed to be willing to offer to every woman in town, except her.
Shit.
I don’t want to sleep with Porter.
I don’t want to sleep with Porter.
Maybe if she repeated that a few thousand times more, she’d convince herself it was true.
It was this…this feeling of sexual frustration that should drive home to her exactly how screwed up she was. Her life had taken a hard left a year ago, and it felt like she’d been swerving out of control ever since then.
She lifted one shoulder casually. “I guess I’m just tired of waiting.”
Porter frowned. “Waiting for what?”
She closed her eyes wearily, regretting her comment instantly. Then she gave up and answered him. “Everything. Anything. Nothing different ever happens in this town. It’s like Groundhog Day over and over and over again.”
“You unhappy in Maris?” he asked, a sliver of surprise in his voice.
She shook her head quickly. “No. I love this town, you know that.”
It was one thing they both had in common.
He nodded as if relieved, which sort of surprised her. Why would he care how she felt about Maris? “So I’ll ask again. What are you waiting for…specifically?”
She wasn’t sure how to answer that question without revealing more than she wanted Porter to know. They weren’t exactly the kind of friends who shared confidences.
Nope.
They were more like actors in a sitcom. He was the charming cowboy who enjoyed pushing her buttons, while she was the girl next door who hid her lust for him by pretending to be constantly annoyed with him.
What she was waiting for was something more.
Something real.
Something Porter Cormack would never be able to give her because he didn’t do more, real, or second-night stands.
Then her gaze landed on the small barbeque-themed Christmas tree she and her cousin, Paige, had decorated last weekend, and she found a safe yet true answer. “I’ve spent my whole life waiting for a white Christmas.”
Porter chuckled. “We live in Texas, darlin’. You might be waiting for snow a damn long time.”
She gave him a half-hearted grin. “It’s not unheard of. Besides, I figure I’ve got a better chance of that happening than...”
Porter didn’t push for an answer, but it was clear he was waiting for one.
Love.
She was waiting for love. A love like her sister had found with Coop.
And while her mind filled in the blanks, there was no way in hell she was saying that out loud. Porter didn’t need any more ammunition on the teasing front and it was obvious, given his dating track record—or lack thereof—that he was not waiting for love.
Finally, she said, “I’m just tired.”
His brows furrowed and she blinked, hoping he didn’t push her for more. She wasn’t one hundred percent sure she’d be able to keep shielding her feelings, hiding how much she thought about going to bed with him, about how much she wanted him, even if it was only for one night.
She forced a lighthearted laugh, turning the conversation back to something safer. “Besides, I think this might be the year we get snow. God knows it’s cold enough. Not sure when the last time was I had to pull out my winter coat, but…” She gestured to the closed storage closet door. “Mine is hanging up in there tonight. Maybe Santa will finally grant my wish.”
Porter didn’t laugh at her weak attempt at humor. Hell, he didn’t crack a smile. Instead, he studied her face, looking at her too closely.
God only knew what he was seeing there.
She hadn’t lied about being tired, but it wasn’t the kind of tired provoked by a lack of sleep. No, her weariness went bone-deep and had everything to do with loneliness. Most of her beloved cousins had fallen in love over the past couple of years, and she was starting to feel like odd man out, the “single” girl surrounded by happy couples…and in Jeannette and Tyson’s cases…throuples.
She held Porter’s gaze for just a moment, then she looked away first, glancing over his shoulder to the only other people in the restaurant. She’d dropped the bill off at the Powell’s table ten minutes earlier, but they were still chatting, finishing up the last of their coffee and dessert.
She needed to get out of here. Go home, crawl in bed, sleep off this shitty mood, and pray she was out of this funk come morning.
Porter followed her gaze. “Looks like the Powells are almost finished. I’ll help you clean up after they leave so you can get out of here early.”
She smiled. “You don’t have to do that. I know you worked all day too.”
Porter was the foreman on her brother-in-law Coop’s ranch. The two men were best friends, as close as brothers. Adele knew for a fact his days started at sunup, while it was unusual for her to pull her ass out of bed before nine.
“It’s no problem,” he said easily. “Don’t like those dark circles under your eyes.”
She brushed off his concern with a wave of her hand. “Never seen anybody up before dawn and out after midnight like you. What are you? Some kind of vampire cowboy? Don’t you ever sleep?”
If she looked up the definition of confirmed bachelor in the dictionary, it would be Porter’s picture gracing the page. Unlike Coop who’d married his first wife, Sharon, when they’d been just twenty-two, Porter had never made a trip to the altar, instead choosing to cut a swath through the available ladies in Maris as well as the surrounding towns. It wasn’t unusual for him to wrap up his long days at work, either here, having a beer at the bar, or over at Cruisers, a local redneck hangout that tried to pretend it was a nightclub, situated right off the highway.
He could party all night and still be up before the rooster crowed at dawn. She didn’t have a clue how he did it.
And, while he was definitely a ladies’ man, at least he seemed to be somewhat choosy when it came to whom he invited to his bed. Though she thought he could probably be a little more discerning, given the way some of his past lovers liked to tell tales about his bedroom prowess. She’d heard more than a few sighs from women wishing they could score a second night between his sheets.
According to the Porter legend, he was well-endowed and well versed in the female anatomy, the type of guy who didn’t call it a night until the lady in his arms had come three, four, five times. One woman had called him the Energizer Bunny, her eyes wistful, as if she’d seen the Promised Land for just a few seconds and was now fighting to get back there with everything she had.
However, that was also the other well-known part of Porter’s reputation.
He didn’t date.
Period.