Must Love Cowboys: This steamy and heart-warming cowboy rom-com is a must-read! (Once Upon A Time In by Carly Bloom (ebook reader that looks like a book .txt) 📕

“Sounds good to me.”

Alice went to her desk in the corner. “Let’s type up a contract.”

Beau laughed. “I don’t think we need anything that formal. But listen, Allie. I’m just going to come out with it. This date for the wedding? That’s all it is. I’m not looking for a girlfriend. I have no interest in relationships. You need an escort to an event. And I need some tutoring. That’s all this is.”

How dare he beat her to the I don’t do relationships line?

“Everybody knows you don’t do relationships. That’s why I asked you. Because guess what? Neither do I. Believe it or not, I have no desire for a boyfriend. Not now, and not ever. I’m happily self-partnered.”

Beau cocked an eyebrow. “Self-partnered?”

“Yep. Me and Emma Watson.”

“You’re dating someone named Emma? Why don’t you just take her to the wedding?”

“You’re exasperating.”

“Not even trying.”

“Emma Watson coined the term self-partnered. It means you’re happy being single. That you’re a whole and complete human without a partner. I’m even in a women’s group. We meet in Austin, and we talk about how to be good partners to ourselves.”

“My mom is in a women’s group. They exchange recipes and knit slippers for the residents at the old folks’ home. It’s local, and I’m sure they’d be happy to have you. It would save you a drive.”

Alice narrowed her eyes and glared at Beau, but then she saw it. The twinkle. Right there in the eyes. And the little dimple next to his mouth on the right side. “You’re teasing me.”

“You’re too easy, Allie Cat.”

“I’ve noticed, over the years, that I’m not exceptionally skilled at picking up on humor. I’m quite a literal person. So, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tease me.”

Beau seemed surprised. After a few seconds of silence, which Alice desperately wanted to fill, he said, “Nonnie says teasing is my love language, but I’ll try to rein it in.”

“Thank you.”

“And Allie, I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I didn’t realize it was happening. So maybe I have a few blind spots, too.”

As far as Alice could tell, he was being one hundred percent sincere. Or heck, maybe he was teasing. She couldn’t tell. And that was the problem.

Beau couldn’t believe they were actually typing up a contract.

“The wedding is on June twelfth, which is five weeks away,” Alice said. “So, I think our contract should officially end at midnight the night of the wedding.”

“What if we’re still on the dance floor at one minute past midnight. Do we explode?”

Not teasing Alice was going to be harder than he’d thought.

“No. We turn into pumpkins,” Alice said with a little smile. And then she added, “We’re going to the wedding. We’re going to make an appearance at the reception. And then we’re going to get out of there.”

“Can I at least eat first?”

“If you’re quick about it.”

The alien creature Alice pretended was a cat jumped in his lap. He choked down a scream and attempted to pet it. It felt like a plucked chicken, but it started purring loudly, as if it were, indeed, a cat.

“Aw, she likes you.”

“It’s a she? What’s her name?”

“Sultana.”

“It fits.”

“Claire wanted me to call her Brazilian. But the breed originates from Canada.”

Beau tried to hold in his laughter and failed.

“What?”

“I think Claire was making a joke.”

“About what?”

Surely, Allie knew what a Brazilian wax was, but it was probably best to let it go. The hairless cat jumped off his lap. “Are you actually going to print up that contract? If so, we’d better go ahead and sign it.”

Alice typed some more. “Hold on. I’m making it clear that my commitment to you ends when the contract expires. You should have all the tools you’ll need for your reading toolbox by then. You might not be speed-reading Homer, but you’ll have strategies in place. Our deal—all of it—ends at midnight.”

Wow. Was that possible? If so, this was the first glimmer of hope he’d felt in a long time. He was scared to fan it into a flame, because he’d been disappointed before. All the tricks they’d tried in elementary school—red plastic films over pages that were supposed to make the letters stop moving around, sight-word flash cards, phonics games—had failed. And then there’d been the testing at the tutoring center in Austin, followed by more phonics and memorization.

He swallowed. He didn’t want to stutter and stammer and struggle in front of anybody, and he especially didn’t want to do it in front of Alice.

“And just so we’re crystal clear,” Alice continued. “No sex.”

“Got it.”

Alice read the contract to him—midnight blah blah no sex blah blah—and printed it up. Then they both signed it—as if it were something that needed signing—and went back into the kitchen.

“Would you like some tea? Or hold on . . .” She went to the refrigerator and grabbed a carton of milk. “How about milk? Are Oreos still your favorite?”

“Are you seriously offering me milk and cookies?”

“Yes.”

He eyed the plate of Oreos. They were absolutely still his favorite. He grinned and reached for one.

“Still a dipper?” she asked.

Beau dunked his cookie in the milk. “Lickers are losers . . .” He looked up to see that Allie had twisted her cookie apart and was in the process of licking the filling. “Sorry.”

Alice shrugged it off. “Before we get started on our lesson, it’s very important that you understand something.”

“I said I got it, Allie. Absolutely no sex.”

“That’s not what I was going to say. You need to understand that there is no correlation between dyslexia and intelligence. None whatsoever. Having dyslexia means you process information in a way that makes reading more difficult. That’s it. That’s the whole ball game. It doesn’t affect your ability to predict outcomes or draw conclusions. And as far as creativity goes, which is its own kind of intelligence, there is some evidence indicating that people with dyslexia are more creative and more likely to think outside the box. Dyslexia makes you a little bit different, but