It was time to bid that old crush farewell and move on.

Jackie collected her jacket from the back of her chair, then moved to the door, smiling and waving, putting on the Jackie Show as she went. She’d had to work at sitting alone tonight, giving herself space to cool down after the fight with April, as well as sort out her true feelings about Cole. Sometimes a gal just needed to sit and think. But if the town got to know that was the real Jackie, the quieter one who wasn’t a trouble-free flirt, she wasn’t sure where she’d fit in.

As she neared the exit she turned to take one last glance at Cole. He was shaking hands with someone she couldn’t see through the crowd, that slightly haunted look flickering in his gaze. The man was still all brawn and devilish smile, coupled with that intensely quiet way of looking at a person, making her feel like a shaken bottle of soda that was ready to fizz over at any moment.

“Jackie!” called Karen Hartley, pulling Jackie’s attention away from Cole. The local librarian was beaming, having just been ensconced in the arms of Myles, the second youngest of the five Wylder brothers.

“Your lipstick is smeared,” Jackie informed her, wincing as she shifted from foot to foot. Her arches were protesting tonight’s choice of footwear, a pair of high heels instead of her usual cowboy boots.

“Oh!” Karen quickly dabbed at her mouth, blushing and appearing happier than Jackie had ever seen her. Love looked good on her.

“Hey, are you free on the thirteenth and fourteenth?”

“Of February?”

Karen nodded.

Jackie shrugged, swallowing the lump of loneliness that had formed in her throat at the thought of Valentine’s Day. She’d planned to spend it, a Saturday, at her father’s nursing home. Even if he didn’t always remember who she was, the cookies were good and the stories the other elders told tended to be entertaining, although a bit repetitive.

“I guess so. Why?”

“The library’s thinking about holding a fundraising event.”

“You need volunteers?” Jackie perked up. Helping out would be a great excuse to be busy if anyone asked if she had a date for the most romantic day of the year.

“No, we need fun people to keep it lively. Will you come?” Karen looked so pleased and excited that Jackie nodded even though her stomach had dropped.

“I’d be happy to.”

Karen gave an uncharacteristic squeal of delight and ran back to Myles, who opened his arms, collecting her in a hug that swept her off her feet.

Jackie held herself together and gave a small wave before pushing her way through the saloon’s swinging doors. As soon as she did, the January Texas air bit into her. She should have worn her boots, not these ridiculous heels. Her feet were going to be frozen by the time she walked all the way back to her car, which she’d left at April’s.

The light hanging above the saloon door flickered, and she knew if she looked to the right, she’d see the edge of town, as well as a glimpse of her apartment on the corner, across and one block down. To the left and many blocks away was her car. After April’s hurtful words tonight, going home without her car was a much more pleasant prospect than the idea of possibly running into her friend.

Sniffing back a sudden flood of unexpected tears, Jackie hurried down the saloon’s two steps as the light above the door flickered once again, then died, instantly creating deep, dark shadows across the sidewalk. Her foot struck something solid, and a dog yipped in surprise. Jackie went down hard on the concrete as she tried to avoid falling on Rusty, a dog that always hung around the saloon.

Jackie gasped as her right hand and left knee took the brunt of her tumble. She rolled onto her back, trying to breathe through the agony, a numbing, breathtaking pain. Rusty, a brown-and-white retriever of some sort, was at her side in an instant, nuzzling her cheek.

The saloon door had opened and a cowboy was silhouetted against the light. Then the door creaked shut, and suddenly Jackie was being hoisted to her feet, a muscular arm behind her back. She staggered on her heels while a man wearing spicy aftershave held her close in the darkness.

Cole Wylder.

Being in his arms felt even better than she’d imagined. To support her, he curved his arm, pulling her against him. Her palms landed against his chest, which was firm. The stuff of fantasies. She quickly twisted her wrist, jerking her torn hand away from his shirt.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “That was a hard fall.”

“You saw it?” She closed her eyes as the light above the saloon door flickered back to life. That was not how she’d planned to gain Cole’s attention.

Not that she wanted his attention any longer, she reminded herself. She was moving on to new pastures, with new crushes that would actually go somewhere.

Butmmm, he felt good.

“Let’s see your hand,” he commanded. He slowly released her, as though unsure whether she’d stay upright without his support, then carefully cupped her hand, a frown creasing his face. “Ouch.”

“It’s not that bad. Really,” she said quickly. She tried to step away, wincing as her jeans scraped against her injured knee. Could you break a kneecap? Or had she just bruised it beyond comprehension?

Cole caught her arms, then crouched to inspect the damage. His white shirt was bunching at his shoulders. It had black stitching above the pockets and she recognized it as one he’d had years ago. It barely fit him now, his years away having added to his muscular build. As he gently pushed back the torn fabric, he sucked air between his teeth and adjusted his cowboy hat. She knew it likely looked bad, but having a former rodeo star act as though it truly was allowed the pain to sink in even deeper.