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Hearing her familiar Carolina drawl, I’m hit by a wave of homesickness. Which makes no sense, because Jen lives on a tiny island off the coast of North Carolina a thousand-some-odd miles from here that I’ve only visited once.

Maybe there’s a certain kind of homesickness for familiar faces—Jen and I went to college together. If that does exist, I have it. Bad.

“Hey, friend.”

Jen picks up right away on the emotion in my voice. “Aw, Mollie. Things not going well on the ranch?”

I’ve filled her in on my situation via text and a few phone calls. Jen has been my rock since Dad passed. We talk and text often, so it’s no surprise she immediately knows something’s wrong.

“It’s going well. And not well at all.”

“Oh boy. Is that cowboy you told me about giving you a hard time?”

No use lying. As embarrassed as I am to admit it, myfeelings for Cash have morphed from hatred to strong dislike with a twinge of something else.

Something that’s the opposite of hatred.

And then there’s the fact that I kinda sorta enjoyed my time on the ranch today.

“Life here is different than I thought it would be. Everything is different, including Cash. He was such an asshole when we first met. But this morning, he looked me in the eye and apologized, and then today, I watched him be sweet as pie with his three-year-old niece. So I was nice to him, and now I’m wondering if I’m being smart and building a relationship with my foreman or if I’m being a total chump.”

Jen chuckles. “He’s hot, right?”

“Well, yeah. Even if he didn’t have the whole cowboy thing going on, he’d turn heads.”

“But he does have the whole cowboy thing going on. I can’t say that I know many of them myself?—”

“I imagine there aren’t a lot of cattle on the coast,” I say with a smile.

“But he lives in a different world than you do. Which leads me to believe he’s going to be different from the guys you know back in Dallas. I feel like the guys you’ve dated have been assholes because they’re, well, assholes. But maybe Cash just came off that way. Maybe deep down, he’s a good guy who’s really scared about the changes happening in his life.”

Glancing up at the ceiling fan, my throat tightens all over again. “Maybe.”

“I say give him a chance. If it ends up biting you in the ass, well, at least you got to hang with hot cowboys for a little bit. That’ll make a great story at cocktail parties.”

I laugh, feeling slightly better. “How are you feeling? Ultrasound go okay?”

“It went great. Baby is measuring right on time. And I’m feeling all right. I have good days and bad days. I’m definitelylooking forward to the second trimester. Everyone says you feel a lot more like yourself then.”

“I’m so excited for you.”

I can hear the warm happiness in her voice when she says, “Thanks. We’re excited too. Abel says hi, by the way.”

“Tell him I said hi back.” I draw a breath through my nose. “Do you like it? Living in a quiet place? Like, do you miss Wilmington at all?”

When Jen and Abel got together, she moved from the small city of Wilmington, North Carolina, to Bald Head Island, which is about as quiet and small as it gets at five square miles. Crazy to think Lucky Ranch is several times that size. Bald Head is accessible only by ferry, and cars aren’t permitted on the island; the only modes of transportation are boats, golf carts, and bicycles.

“I do miss the city,” Jen replies. “You know I love to shop, and I miss being able to just pop into coffee shops or restaurants. But Wilmington isn’t all that far from Bald Head, so whenever I get the itch, I hop on the ferry and take a day trip. I will say I’m always glad to get back on the ferry to the beach at the end of the day. The island has a way of permeating your bones. Like you crave it.”

“I think you just crave your gorgeous husband.”

“Him too, yes.” She laughs. “I do wonder if I’d feel the same if I didn’t have my own little family of sorts on the island. Maybe that’s what gets into your bones—the people more than anything. I feel connected to the community here in a way I never did in Wilmington. Life didn’t necessarily get bigger or smaller when I moved to a small town. But it did become more vibrant.”

My heart pings faster and faster, the way parking sensors do in a car when you get too close to something. “I like that idea.”

“Something to think about. I imagine life on the ranch is similar?”

“There are lots of people around. Like, all the time. And everyone knows everybody. I get the sense that they’re all close, but I’m obviously the outsider, so…”