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But Rye looked stiff, like he’d taken all that stress into himself when he’d cured me of it.

“Ryder?”

“Hm?” he hummed as he turned to face me, and again, we just stared at each other. What was he seeing when he looked at me?

Normally, I’d worry he was seeing the gray roots growing out of the highlights Ronnie Evans at Cut It Up had given me, or the bags under my eyes or the way my skin was beginning to loosen and change. Or maybe being in my home, now he saw what he’d never wanted to before: that we really were two very different people from two different generations, and that we didn’t belong together.

We could help each other, sure. There wasn’t anything wrong with having a little fun in the sack, cracking some jokes, and providing each other something we really needed. Those were the only things I should’ve been looking to get from this man, but there was a little tug inside my chest telling me I knew better.

Rye Graves was more than just a good lay or a bank account.

He’d been trying to tell me all along. But now he wanted to leave. He’d go back to his ranch tomorrow, and I’d never get to feel his hands and his mouth on me again or hear the hum of his voice when he said such profound things to me like they were nothing at all, when in reality, they were everything I didn’t know I’d needed to hear.

“Please don’t go.”

“Gotta, Spitfire. It’s gettin’ late.” He walked toward me, dragging a hand through his hair again, and one curl stood straight up from his forehead. Stopping in front of me, he reached out and pulled me into his arms.

“But we didn’t finish hashin’ out our plan.”

“That’s what phones are for, yeah?”

“Rye, please talk to me. Why are you really leavin’? I thought this was what you wanted. ThatIwas.”

“Oh,” he breathed, caging me between his strong arms, hugging me tighter. He pulled his fingers through my hair softly. “Youarewhat I want. More than you know. But I have to go because I feel this… I dunno. I feel this weight now inside my chest, and I know if I stay, things between you and me will go somewhere neither of us needs. I don’t wanna just be sex to you.”

“That’s not why I want you to stay.”

“Still, it’s better if I don’t. Trust me. I go from zero to sixty in a heartbeat, and then when work gets busy, I disappear. Broken a few hearts that way. I don’t wanna break yours.” He squeezed me against his chest, but then stepped back. “I’m gonna call you tomorrow when I get a break, okay? Answer your phone.”

Clicking his tongue, he nodded once, leaned down to kiss me quickly on the lips, and then he left me breathless.

The good kind.

My phone pingedwith a text from Rye at midnight:

Night, Spitfire. Dream about me tonight like I dream of you every night.

I had no clue how to respond, and to be honest, I was a little afraid late-night texting might turn into sexting, and what if I loaned my phone to Benji the next time he came home or to Roxi and they saw it? The mortification I would feel if that minuscule possibility happened stopped me from texting Rye back, so I hugged my phone to my chest like a teenager and dreamed of things I had no business dreaming about.

“Where were you last night?”Roxi demanded when she rushed into Your Local Bookie right after I flipped the “We’re open if you dare to dream” sign the next morning, clutching her phone in one hand. “And why didn’t you answer my texts this mornin’? I thought you’d been abducted by aliens!”

I had a whole collection of unconventional open and closed signs. I’d thought they’d give the shop an edge over some of the other stores in town.

Yeah, they didn’t. Lately, unless you sold food, guns, or cowboy hats, you had to sit back and watch all the customers go into other people’s businesses.

But maybe that wasn’t the whole truth.

Maybe, just like with Rye, my eyes had been closed. I’d let my business fall to the wayside, let the status quo become acceptable.

Maybe it wasn’t anymore. Maybe my eyes had been opened, and maybe it was time todosomething about it.

“Breathe. Jeez. You look like you’re about to bust that vein in the middle of your forehead.”

“Ugh.” Roxi pushed past me at the cash register so she could check her face in my mirror in the back room. “What vein? I put on foundation this mornin’. Although, I was so worried about you, I rushed it and now I probably look like horse shit.” When she was convinced the veins in her face weren’t purple and pulsating wildly, she stood across the counter from me again and stared me down. “So? Where were you?”

“Did I forget we had plans?”

“No, we didn’t have plans, but remember I told you I might stop by if my date with that llama farmer was a bust? Spoiler alert: it was. Guy was a total weirdo. He told me he wanted to cut a lock of my hair so he could weave it into a blanket with his llamas’ fleece to keep him warm at night. Ew.”