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“You did it again, you know,” I say as he climbs into the truck.

I know I’m being a brat, picking a fight with him; but he’s actually been nice to me today, but I can’t help it. It’s the only way I know to keep my distance from him.

“Did what?” He shoots me a curious glance as he starts up the truck.

“You didn’t ask me to dinner; you told me we were going and assumed I would just go along for the ride.”

He sighs, taking his sunglasses off and turning toward me in his seat. “Dakota, would you like to go to dinner with me tonight?”

Dammit, the way his blue eyes burrow into me are making me feel everything I’m trying to fight.

“That depends. Where are we going?” I fidget with the hem of my skirt, looking away and avoiding his gaze. I can’t let him assume that he can command me to do something, and I’ll follow blindly. I have rules. Boundaries. Expectations. He needs to respect them if he wants me to hold up my end of the bargain.

“Nothing fancy tonight. I was thinking the Lucky Dog Pub.”

“The Lucky Dog? Really?” Of all the places I expected him to say, that was the last one I was expecting.

“Yeah, why?’ He glances at me before pulling into traffic. “It’s Thursday night, and I heard that’s where a lot of the locals go after work. There might be some tourists around, too, since the rodeo starts in a couple of days. Plenty of people to see us out together since the gala was a bust.”

Right. This is about being seen.

Of course I was being stupid, thinking that today was about him actually wanting to see me. It’s only about appearances. Needing to save the rodeo. Be the perfect, smiling girlfriend.

I cross my arms over my chest and look out the window. Any excitement about spending the evening with Chance is now long gone.

“What’s wrong? We can go somewhere else if you want.”

“Nope,” I answer, not looking at him.

We are quiet for the rest of the short ride, the tension thick around us. When he parks outside of the town’s pub, I don’t wait for him to get out and open my door. I jump out, praying I don’t roll an ankle or fall trying to land on my high heels, slamming the door behind me. I don’t bother looking in his direction as I storm up to the large wooden doors.

“What’s gotten into you?” he barks as he reaches for me.

“Nothing.” I fake a smile. “And lower your voice. We wouldn’t want anyone to think we were fighting.”

“Are we?” He lowers his voice, just as I requested, and leans into me. An act that somehow makes me madder. “Are we fighting? Because I can’t think of a fucking thing I did that would make you act like this. I bought you flowers. Sent the biggest fucking bouquet Whiskey Falls has to offer last minute and finished up at the ranch early to surprise you for a date. Isn’t that what women want?”

“Maybe the women you entertained before, but not me.” I pull the large wooden door open and storm inside. Scanning the room quickly, I find an empty booth in the corner and stride over, willing myself to slow down and not look like I’m going to turn and murder Chance.

I might have gotten away with smashing Laughlin’s car. I highly doubt I’d get away with assault on the highest profile citizen in town.

“Can you slow down for a fucking minute?” He growls as he slides into the booth across from me. “What the hell was that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” I stress, leaning over the table to whisper, “that I’m not someone you spend money on because you want to impress them, or in this case, the people of the town. If you want to impress me, you do things because you want to, not because you feel like you have to.”

“Chance!” A small, bubbly blonde bounces over to our table, a pen and paper in her hand. “What are you doing here? Oh! Is this Dakota?”

I glance over at Chance, wishing I could hurt him with a look. If this is another one of his mindless hookups, I’m going to lose it. I’m not going to sit here and have every one of his conquests interrupt one of our ‘dates’ every time we go out.

“Krissy,” he grumbles.

“Talkative as ever, I see,” she says with a laugh. “Are you Dakota? You’re just as pretty as Trent said you were!”

“Why, thank you,” I answer wearily, not exactly sure who this person is and most importantly, who she is to Chance and who Trent is. “Who is Trent?”

“He said what?” Chance questions, searching for someone across the bar.

“Stand down, lover,” Krissy laughs. “I’m Trent and Wyatt’s sister. My fiancé, Brett, owns the pub and I’m helping since he’s short staffed. We’ve been so busy with the rodeo coming up.”