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So she was going to attempt that. Quinn had no real desire to be soft. It only got you hurt. But sometimes it could be useful, so she needed to give it a try.

Quinn was book-smart. But she could admit, she was often not people-smart. She tried, but she was results oriented, and sometimes the smoothness of the process felt negotiable. Damn the torpedoes, et cetera.

But perhaps if she was dressed soft, she would sound soft.

And if all else failed, she would just have Rory talk to them about romance novels. That was about the softest thing that could ever occur.

Rory was nothing if not supersoft.

Quinn had been soft once upon a time. If there was one thing she admired about Rory, it was how she’d retained that. Of course, as far as Quinn could tell, it also made Rory anxious and overly concerned about things Quinn just preferred not to care about.

She used to care about all kinds of things. And then she’d whittled it down. She cared about her sisters, the ranch and her own goals. The end. It was the best way to be. The best way to keep herself from getting hurt.

They piled into Quinn’s car and drove the ten minutes off the Four Corners property to Smokey’s.

That was why they needed road access. The gravel road that led all the way to Sullivan’s Point as it stood was a very, very long drive that would cover a car in fine dust, and also, it was the road they used for daily, practical things. The road they used for their horses, for their tractors, and they really couldn’t have traffic from the public cluttering it all up. Well, they could, and if they had to, they would open the store using the main road, but she had a feeling it would severely hinder the amount of business that they got.

“I can hear you thinking. You might find it helpful to dial back some of the intensity,” said Rory, as they pulled into Smokey’s parking lot.

“I don’t know how to do that,” said Quinn.

“I get that,” said Rory. “I do. But...you could try.”

“Sure,” said Quinn.

Except she didn’t even know how to try. Honestly. She just didn’t know.

If she did, she would do it. If she knew how to be honey, so that she could catch all the flies, she would’ve transformed herself into something sticky and syrupy long ago.

They filed into Smokey’s, and Quinn froze at the door. She wasn’t used to having so many men...look at her.

At Four Corners, they were like wallpaper. Practically invisible. But at the bar, they were a little bit less...known, and she could see that they appeared to be two eligible women who weren’t normally around.

Quinn wished that she cared.

The problem was that at an extremely formative age she’d developed a crush on...

It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to think about that insufferable bastard.

He was a problem. Not a crush.

She had been so childish back then. A giant open wound wandering around feeling all the feelings. No more.

All that mattered was crushes were not a thing for her now, and maybe it was partly because some of her heart and soul had been tied up in one a long time ago when she’d never gotten it back. No one had ever felt half as compelling, half as interesting.

Half as big of a pain in the ass.

But she wasn’t going to think about that, because she wasn’t going to think about him.

She noticed that Rory looked disinterested in all the attention they were getting, and she thought that was strange, since Rory was a true romantic, and she would’ve thought that Rory would be thrilled to have a man pay her some attention.

“This is not how it goes in a romance novel,” said Rory, as if she already knew what Quinn was thinking.

“What?”

Rory shrugged. “I mean, that’s not true. Sometimes a romance novel starts with a one-night stand in a bar, but the connection is electric. And I feel no electricity. So if you’re wondering why I’m not excited about this...”

“Oh, Rory,” said Quinn. “I don’t care about romance. All I care about is lobbying for road access. And so away we go.”