“In the middle of a set?” I ask Willow when she sits down during a quick break and asks for a margarita.
“If I’m going to smell like alcohol, I might as well be drinking it.”
The door swings open, and I don’t have to look up to know it’s him. There’s a weight to his presence, a shift in the air, like my body knows he’s near before my mind can catch up.
But I don’t pause in shaking up the mixer before pouring my friend’s favorite drink into a salt-rimmed glass.
Willow must sense my tension because her head turns toward Wilder as he strides in.
He leans against the bar next to her. “Drinks any good here?”
He’s so effortlessly .?.?. rugged. He’s wearing a dark green fitted shirt, his scruff from yesterday now neatly trimmed. He looks well rested, which is refreshing.
But it’s also confusing to me how he can be so relaxed. I’d have sworn by now he’d be impatient to get back to the ranch.
I smooth my hands over the towel at my hip.
Willow frowns, about to turn and tell this guy where to shoveit until her big brown eyes take him in. She gasps, flipping back to me. “It’s him, isn’t it?”
I cock my head at my not-so-subtle friend.
He chuckles and holds out his hand. “Wilder Thorne.”
She takes it. “Willow.”
He nods. “I figured. OK if I sit?”
“OK with me.” She looks over my shoulder where my boss is probably lingering. “Besides, I’ve got to go finish my set before Billy fires me.” She points to her piano and scurries off.
“An unlikely event,” Billy calls after her. Wilder takes her seat, his eyes on me.
“Where you staying?” I ask casually, like I would any tourist hanging around my bar.
The soft, melodic notes of Willow’s piano drift from the other side of the bar, drawing heads toward the sound. Except Wilder’s. “Courtyard Inn across the street from you.”
“When’s your return flight?”
“Bought a one-way ticket.”
“Wilder,” I release a breath.
“Rose,” he breathes back, and damn it, I hate the way my name sounds in his voice. Like it belongs there.
“You should go home. Dallas needs you. Your staff. The ranch. You couldn’t step away all week and now—” My voice breaks, and I shake my head.
He leans in. “Please give me a chance to explain.”
I grab a glass and toss it into the ice to give me something to do, then fill it with whiskey and set it in front of him.
He narrows his eyes. “How you know what I drink?”
“You had a whiskey on the rocks during our speed-date.”
He laughs, and it makes me smile as he lifts his glass. “You keeping notes on me, Blue?”
My smile fades because it makes me think of my cart. “They’re not all gems, cowboy.”
He exhales sharply, like I knocked the wind out of him. He glances at my boss, who no doubt is only focused on Willow. “When can we talk?”
