Chapter 1

Clouds. They're breathtaking when you take a second to really appreciate their beauty. Fluffy puffs of white that float through the sky without a care in the world, looking down at the people below. I imagine them up there, laughing at our inconsequential worries and shaking their heads at the stupidity of the rat race.

You know, the race where most spend their life working to fulfill another person"s dream and make them rich? Yeah, that"s the rat race. The ones that put things like starting a family or vacationing on hold to punch a time clock each day. Then, they die.

I almost let it happen to me, trying to build up my business. My heart couldn"t handle the stress I put on it day after day. That was my life-changing moment. I quit that shit so fast. No way was I going to die without ever truly living.

My gaze drifts up at the blood orange and hot pink clouds drifting through the sky over my own little piece of heaven. Texas.

I shift my Stetson back in place and continue working on the wood rocking chair I'm trying to perfect. The breeze feels good sitting out here on the back porch. With careful attention, I leave the slider open for Rusty, my dog. He's a golden retriever, and my best bud. He likes to roam back and forth between the air conditioning and warmth of the Texas heat.

I stare at the chair. It's been a bit of a struggle to get the angles of the legs just right, but now that I know the rocking chair works, I'm trying to carve patterns into the arms to give it a little flair.

My beer sits on the table next to me. I grab it roughly by the neck and take a long pull. Ah. There's nothing like a beer, non-alcoholic, of course, after a long day. My doctor doesn't want me drinking the good stuff, but that's okay with me. I'm a laid-back kind of guy.

There's a loud knock at my door as I continue with my carving. I'm sure it's some solicitor, or maybe someone's lost. Either way, I don't have time for any of that. All I care about is my woodworking.

Rusty barks.

"Shh, boy. They'll go away," I say, scratching him behind the ears.

The knock grows louder, and I set my beer down. Rusty rushes inside, barking at the door. Fuck's sake. I stand and stretch my arms over my head, setting my hat on the table. Working long hours on the furniture I create by hand takes a toll on my back, but it's nothing like the stressful hours at the office ever did. This I can handle.

I move through my ranch-style home and open the front door. "Mom," I say when I see my mother's worried eyes looking back at me.

"Ry, I've been calling and texting you. I even sent a 9-1-1 message saying I was in the hospital."

I step aside so my mother can bustle her way into the house. "You were in the hospital?" I ask as I shut my front door.

She lets out a deep breath, looking dejected. "Well, no, but…" Her words fall away as she moves further into my home. She pats Rusty on the head, and he follows her. She settles in the kitchen where my phone is lying forgotten on the kitchen counter. Without hesitation, she picks it up and turns on the screen. "Still works. So, you're ignoring me?"

Now she appears hurt.

I scrub a hand over my thick beard. She has a knack for making me feel guilty. "Mom, I'm sorry. I was just…" I try to think about what I've been doing that would justify not returning her calls. Honestly, I never think about my phone anymore. I used to be glued to the sucker, and now… nope, nothing. "I've been busy."

She turns her nose up at me as she sets the phone down on the counter. "Busy? Doing your woodworking nonsense?"

"It's not nonsense." I lean against the counter. "Besides, you never need to knock. My front door is always open."

She moves comfortably around the kitchen, grabbing two tall glasses and filling them with ice and water. "Have you been taking care of yourself?" She changes the subject.

I roll my eyes. "Yes, Mom. The heart attack was years ago. I'm fine."

She raises a brow, handing me a glass. "You don't look fine."

I glance down at my ratty t-shirt covered in sawdust and scrub my hand through my beard once more. "I am. I'm sorry I didn't answer the phone."

Suddenly, my front door bangs open and my younger brother, Parker, rushes in. "Mom! Got your message." He stops when he sees me in the kitchen, holding a glass of water. "Mother, you said he was dead. He doesn't look dead."

Mom moves from around the counter and sets her glass of water down. "No… I said, he could be dead. I didn't know because he never answers his phone."

"Okay, what the hell is going on?" I ask, setting my glass down next to my mother's. "I'm not dead."

Mom crosses her arms over her chest. "How would anyone ever know? You could die and nobody would ever know about it."

Parker runs a hand across my mother's back, comforting her. Now I look like the asshole son. "It's okay, Mom," he says, giving me a death glare like he wishes I would have been dead so he would have had a good reason for dropping whatever he was doing today to rush out here.

"Listen, I'm fine. I just forgot about my phone."

They both look at me as if I've suffered a stroke.

"You?" Parker laughs in between his words. "How could you ever forget about your phone? You once left it at a restaurant and nearly lost your shit until you could to return to get it. You had like fifty missed phone calls in those five minutes you were without it, and I remember you saying something like, ‘I wish there was a way to glue the phone to my hand so I'd never leave it anywhere ever again.' You were obsessed about it. You even missed my ballgame once because you had to take a call."

I shove both my hands into my jeans pockets. "Yeah, I was sort of an idiot back then."

There's a better way to live, and I've found it. I control my destiny, not my phone. Not my money.

My mother rushes over to me, cupping both my cheeks in her hands. Tears pool in her eyes, and now I feel worse for not answering her call. "Ryan, you need to get out more. It's not healthy living out here all by yourself. You need a woman."

I laugh, loud and short. "I don't think a woman would solve my problems." Not that I have any. But my mother apparently thinks I do. "No, I definitely don't need a woman."

"Mom, he's right," Parker backs me up. "Remember Alexa?"

I cringe hearing that name float around my kitchen. It's been a long time since I've heard it, and I'd much rather I never did again. However, I nod at my brother, because he has brought up the best point. "Yeah, I definitely don't need that again."

Mom shoos her hands at him. "Oh please. Alexa was just the wrong woman. Ryan needs to find the right one."

"True that," Parker says with a smile. "I don't think the right woman would like him as he is right now." He looks me up and down.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He steps closer. "When's the last time you've shaved?" He smacks my beard, and I swat at him. He rushes behind Mom and I laugh.

"Enough, boys." She turns her attention back to me. "He's right. When's the last time you've showered and shaved?"

I roll my eyes, moving to the fridge to grab another beer. "I'm fine."

"You need a woman here. To be able to check on you. Help you. When you worked in the city at the office, I took comfort in knowing that if you went missing, at least someone would notice."

I rub my hand along the back of my neck before opening my beer. "Are you saying that out here, nobody would miss me?"

"Honey, you know we love you and would miss you. I just hate you being out here all alone. You need a woman."

"You know I don"t need that complication in my life."

"Hogwash. The right woman will love you for who you are and not the size of your bank account. You can"t die out here alone with your wood art and a few horses." She gets this goofy smile on her face, and I cock a brow.

"Mom?" I question her. "What did you do?"

"Now, don't be mad."

I glance at Parker, and he shrugs. "What did you do?" If she has a woman waiting in her car to move in, I'll disown her. "I don't need you setting me up."

She parks both hands on her hips. "I didn't set you up, per se."

"Mom," my voice raises. "What did you do?"

Parker steps closer the same time I do. My mother has definitely done something bad. Knowing her, she probably signed me up for some reality TV show. Or worse.

"I made you a profile."

"A what?" I ask. What is she talking about? A profile? For what?

Oh no.

Before she can answer, I've already figured it out and am stepping back out of the kitchen. I move toward the sliding door that leads to my back porch. Rusty's hot on my heels. So is my mother. Parker isn't that far behind her.

"What's going on, Mom?" Parker asks.

"I'm forty-five years old, Mother. I don't need you meddling in my life, and I definitely don't need to be on some dating website." I can't believe this.

I park my ass back in my chair, set my beer down, and pick up my scalpel to continue working on my rocking chair.

"Now, honey. Like I said, don't be mad." She shuffles up next to me. "I just want you to be happy."

"So, you made me a profile on some dating website?"

Parker has joined us and crosses his arms over his broad chest. "C'mon Mom, even I think that's low."

"No, it isn't. This site uses data about your personality and life and connects you with the perfect match. They have a ninety-nine percent accuracy."

"Sounds like a scam." No one can be that accurate.

"They do." My mother's busy pulling her phone out of her own pocket. "Look, they've already found you a match."

I stand. "No, I don't want to meet her."

"What do you mean?" My mother appears confused. It's like she can't understand how I wouldn't want to meet some random woman. "Why wouldn't you want to meet her?"

"Mom, you can't be serious?" I glance at my brother for help.

"He's right, Mom. What if this woman is an ax murderer?"

Mom laughs with an eye roll. "She's not an ax murderer. I've seen her picture, and she looks like a nice girl." She scrolls through her phone, and then shoves it into my face. "See? She's beautiful."

I don't want to look at the phone and refuse to look in her direction. After a minute, Parker pushes me aside to get a good look.

"Damn, she's hot," he says.

Maybe I should have a look. No, I don't need the complications having a girlfriend brings. Why can't I just live the rest of my life in peace?

"Fine, if you're not going to look, then I'll describe her," my brother says, and I huff and take another swig of beer. "She's got captivating green eyes and long red hair that falls in waves around her shoulders. Awe, look, she even has a few freckles splattered across her nose." Damn, he must have zoomed in on her picture to tell that small detail.

"No," I remark still with my back turned to them.

"What do you mean, no?" Mom asks.

"I'm not meeting her," I answer as I face her, so she knows I'm serious.

That woman in the picture just sounds like trouble. There's no way in hell I'm falling for another woman purely to have my heart shattered once again.

Mom's face falls flat. "Fine. You win. I won't contact her." She glances down at my rocking chair. "This is nice."

"Thanks, Mom." We spend another hour catching up, and before I know it, both Mom and Parker are leaving to head back to their homes.

I lean back in my chair, watching the sun set before me. "I don't need a woman, right Rusty?"

He stares at me, but if dogs could talk, I know he'd be agreeing with me. No matter how stunning that picture sounded, it's all for the best. I don't need anyone in my life. I'm just fine with the way things are.