I’m not a big drinker and I’ve had enough secondhand smoke for this decade and the next, so . . .”
Great. All she had to do was complain about the deafening volume of the music, and she might as well slap a sticker on her forehead saying old next to the one that already said nerd.
“Band’s good, though,” she added. “Country’s not my thing, but the players are . . . proficient.” And great, now she sounded like a professor. Proficient. God.
But he was nodding. “Country’s not my thing, either.”
“But you have a cowboy hat,” she said, and as soon as the words left her lips, she realized how stupid she sounded, no—not that she sounded, but that she was.

Autor: Suzanne Brockmann

I’m not a big drinker and I’ve had enough secondhand smoke for this decade and the next, so . . .”<br />Great. All she had to do was complain about the deafening volume of the music, and she might as well slap a sticker on her forehead saying <i>old</i> next to the one that already said <i>nerd.</i><br />“Band’s good, though,” she added. “Country’s not my thing, but the players are . . . proficient.” And great, now she sounded like a professor. <i>Proficient.</i> God.<br />But he was nodding. “Country’s not my thing, either.”<br />“But you have a cowboy hat,” she said, and as soon as the words left her lips, she realized how stupid she sounded, no—not that she sounded, but that she <i>was.</i> - Suzanne Brockmann




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