Page 100 of Saltwater Cowboy

“Yeah, what’s up?”

He scratched the back of his head, his usual confident demeanor gone, replaced by something almost… hesitant. “I need to pick out a nice outfit.”

I raised an eyebrow. “A nice outfit? For what?”

“I’ve got a date tomorrow.” He said it with a casual shrug, but I caught the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

My heart skipped. “A date?”

“Yeah.” He seemed almost embarrassed now, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “With Marie from the nursing home.”

I blinked. “Marie? The one who’s like… pushing ninety?”

Wells chuckled, but it was a little forced. “Not that Marie. The head nurse. Early-thirties, real sharp. I got her to agree to dinner.”

“I didn’t know you were interested in her.”

“Yep. She’s a tough one to impress, but I’ve got my ways.” His grin returned, but there was something almost shy about it.

I took a second to process. I hadn’t expected Wells to be interested in someone like Marie—not that I had any reason to be jealous, right? I was just his roommate.

“So you need my help?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah, I want to look nice for her. But I don’t know if I’ve got the right stuff.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and gave me that sheepish look of his. “You think you could help me out?”

I shrugged. “Of course. What kind of date is it?”

“Just dinner. Nothing too fancy. But you know, I want to make sure I look decent. Don’t want to show up looking like I rolled out of the barn.”

I smiled at the image of Wells trying to get all dressed up, but I could tell he was genuinely invested in making a good impression on Marie. There was something about the way he spoke about her—respectful but a little nervous—that made me realize this wasn’t just a casual date for him.

I rolled myself out of bed. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.”

We walked down the hall to his room, and when I stepped inside, it felt strangely intimate. His room was warm, decorated in deep, earthy tones with soft lighting that made everything feel cozy and inviting. There was a guitar propped against the dresser, a few framed pictures of his family, and a bookshelf filled with well-worn paperbacks.

I noticed a photo of Wells and his mom on the nightstand, a snapshot of them laughing. It hit me, then, how much of his life was still tied to this place, to his roots.

“You play?” I nodded towards the guitar on a stand.

“Sometimes.”

Wells opened his closet, revealing a variety of shirts, jeans, and jackets, along with a few boots lined up neatly at the bottom. It was exactly what I’d expected—nothing too flashy, just solid, dependable pieces.

I grabbed a navy blazer from the rack, holding it up for inspection. “How about this? It’s sharp but not too fancy.”

He eyed the blazer and then glanced back at me. “You think it’ll be too much?”

I smiled, tapping the fabric. “It’ll be perfect. Marie’s not going to expect you to show up in a tux, but you’ll want to look like you’ve put some thought into it.”

He nodded, looking a little less sure than before but trusting me nonetheless. “If you say so.”

I grabbed a crisp white button-down shirt next, holding it up to his chest. “This one’s got that clean, fresh vibe that always works.”

I could feel him watching me as I worked, though I kept my focus on the clothes. There was something a little too personal about helping him pick out an outfit. Maybe it was the way he trusted me to make the right call, or maybe it was the realization that Wells was someone I cared about more than I was ready to admit.

I stepped back, holding up a pair of dark jeans. “These will match the blazer without making you look too dressed up.”

“Good choice,” he said, nodding in approval. “Looks like I’m in good hands.”