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Oh my God. My heart does the thing where it catches in your throat and the air that’s supposed to be flowing gets stuck somewhere in between. Thankfully, my stomach distracts me from that terrible feeling with one of its own—a gurgling tightness with a sharp left pain. Maybe I’ll die right here on the kitchen floor. I’m pretty sure that would be less embarrassing than having this conversation.

“I saw online that you were cookin’ here.”

I forgot Scarlett put everything on the website. If I’d remembered, the second Buck got here I’d have begged her to take it down, temporarily quit my job, and gone into hiding.

I lift my head and stare at him, focusing on his light blue eyes. “Hey. Yeah, I cook. I cook here.”Oh God. Where is death when you need it?

He grins. “I think you’re the one girl in this whole place that ain’t tried to lock me down for a conversation. You gotta minute? Maybe a couple? I’d like to take you out.”

I glance toward Agnes for a way out, but she’s no help. Her grin is wide and those dark eyes of hers tell me exactly where she stands.

“I’m actually really busy. We’ve got breakfast started here, and the kitchen needs me.”Okay, good job. I did it. I told him the things, now shoo.

He nods and tucks his hand into the pocket of his jeans. The man is exactly the same as he was when I left him. He’s big, tall, brooding, covered in ink, and he wears a Tennessee cap low. “I could meet you after work. What time are you finished?”

“Three o’clock,” Agnes interjects. “I’ve got the dinner crowd tonight. Opal is off.”

“Perfect,” he says as he nods toward me. “Does that work for you, Opal?”

I don’t respond right away, mostly because I’m trying to think of the perfect excuse. A sick cat that needs tending, a prior engagement, a flu I feel coming on, or maybe a stomach bug… but nothing comes out of my mouth.

Agnes pokes me in the side as though she’s reminding me to speak.

“Sure!”My voice is way too high. I never sound like that. What the hell?“Let’s make it four.”

I’m not sure why I have to set the time an hour later. I have nothing going on, and I could easily leave straight from the kitchen.

“Sounds good.” He nods and turns back toward the dining room, landing a hundred-dollar bill on the table before disappearing into a crowd of girls waiting for him outside the front door.

My heart hammers against my chest and my cheeks flush with warmth.

What the hell did I get myself into?

Chapter Two

Buck

“Opal, she works in the kitchen over at Mail Order Ranch, right?” Sawyer leans into my forearm, focusing on my most recent piece. Two horseshoes framing a pine forest. I came out here to find love, instead I’m spending loads of money and time at the tattoo shop. It’s been so much that I’ve gotten to know Sawyer better than anyone else. He’s a down-home kind of guy. Drives a truck, works hard, wants someone to take care of.

“Yeah, that’s her. She agreed to go out tonight, but I’m not sure she really wanted to. I don’t know what I’m doing or why I can’t let her go. I mean, we barely know each other, but I’m obsessed like we’ve had a lifetime together already. It’s fucked up, man, ya know? Maybe I need help. Maybe I’ve been on the road too long.”

Sawyer swipes his rag over the excess ink and refocuses. “Nah, but you’re getting philosophical.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, what you’re asking is like wondering if flowers need water or sunlight to grow. It’s not one or the other. They need both. You felt something when you met. A spark, an emotional compatibility. Some might say you need that to make sense of time spent.”

“Good Lord, my guy. Maybe you should come out to Nashville with me and sit it in on a writing session.”

He stretches his back side to side, widening his frame. I’m a big dude, but this guy is massive. “Yeah, well, I’ve thought about this shit a lot.”

“You got a girl you’re missing?”

His head tilts and nods as he goes back to work. “Missing her ain’t the word. It’s this gut-wrenching pain whenever I think about her. I’m constantly wondering if she’s okay, if she’s happy, if she’s thinking about me, too. It’s hell. Years of this shit, and she’s about to marry another man.”

“Fuck. What happened?”

He draws out another line before rinsing my arm and wiping away more excess ink. “Wrong time, right person kinda thing… but that’s my story. I bet it’s the right time for you and Opal.”

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