The smell of moose stew filled Cody’s cabin, rich and tantalizing. He had a bottle of wine set out on the table—a cabernet this time—and a pair of tall stem glasses. He’d also purchased a dining table set: a round, handcrafted wood table and two matching chairs.

After the moose hunting trip, Cody had looked around Bradford Homestead and realized how female-friendly it wasn’t. His lifestyle had been strictly utilitarian up to this point, but now he wondered if it was going to be his undoing, at least when it came to tempting a woman like Cassie to stay with him.

For the past week since they’d returned—since the bear encounter had shattered the happy haze of that morning, and seemingly their relationship—Cassie had been difficult to reach. She was slow to respond to text messages, had only called him back once, and their conversations had been too casual. Cody didn’t know much about managing female emotions, but he could sense the change in weather, and knew he had to make an extra effort to bring Cassie back around. He wanted to spend that weekend at the Pioneer Hotel. He wanted to take her out on the town, introduce her to his friends, make her feel part of his life.

First, though, he had to get things back on track between the two of them.

He’d invited her over for the moose stew he knew she loved, with the moose meat they’d hunted together. The first two nights he’d suggested it, she’d been busy. But last night, she’d called him and said, “Can I come over, maybe tomorrow night?”

Cody had said yes, of course. And that he’d make them dinner.

Today he’d even given Diamond and Timber baths for the first time in months. They were fluffy and soft and sat like good dogs, watching their human work in the kitchen.

The dogs perked and Timber gave a single woof. Cody listened; a car had pulled up outside. He’d done his annual road grading that week, and the weather had been fine and dry since. The road, while still rough, was at least passable for Cassie’s car.

He opened the door and waved at her. He was wearing an apron like the first time they’d met, although this one was plenty masculine, a simple square navy canvas.

As she approached, Timber and Diamond came flying past him, tails wagging, and Cassie bent to pet the dogs. Her face was hidden by the tilt of her head and the sweep of her blond hair. When she finally raised her face to look at Cody, he felt a twinge of foreboding. There was something off, a tension in her muscles, clouds in her green eyes.

“Come on in,” he said, shaking off the feeling. What she needed was a glass of fine wine and a bowl of fine stew and an evening snuggled together on the couch. Or better yet, in bed.

He pulled her across the threshold and paused there, wrapping her into a hug, which turned into a kiss. The heat between them rose, simmering, but there was a searching, desperate quality to the way Cassie kissed him. He felt the soft press of her hands cradling his face and the slight hiccup of her breath.

Eventually, she pulled away.

“Thanks for having me over,” she said.

Cody peered at her, wondering why she was being so formal, so polite. “You have an open invitation here. Come anytime. The more often, the better, as far as I’m concerned.”

She dropped her eyes. Then she took a deep breath, sniffing the air. “You made moose stew?”

“I did. I know you didn’t enjoy hunting—and don’t say anything more about it, it’s totally fine—but I wanted you to remember some good out of it, too. And there’s nothing better than moose stew.”

She looked around, her gaze pausing on the set table, the wine glasses, the matching chairs. And her face crumpled.

“Cassie?” Alarmed, Cody took her hands. “What’s wrong?”

“I—I wish you hadn’t gone to the trouble.”

“You’re no trouble at all.”

“I have to talk to you about something, Cody.”

A peculiar feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, like a heavy stone dropped into water. Cassie’s hair danced gold in the rays of the late evening sun that spilled through the kitchen window. For some reason, the sight broke his heart. Maybe because he sensed Cassie was about to, too.

“Let’s have some wine.”

“No thanks.” She looked at him with regret. “I won’t be staying.”

They sat at the new table. Cassie paused for a moment and ran her fingers across the gleaming wood. Then she looked up at Cody, her green eyes fixed directly on his.

“I’m just going to say it. I got another job offer—in Atlanta, where my friend Abby lives now—and I took it. I gave my two weeks’ notice at KFLS.”

Cody felt her words like a punch to some tender place in his heart, a place he hadn’t known existed, not before Cassie had come swirling into his ordered life. It knocked the wind out of him, how much it hurt, and for a long moment he could say nothing at all.

“Cody?”

You gave your notice, he thought. Just when I gave you my heart.

“You’re leaving,” he said, flatly.

Tears sprang into her eyes. “I told you I would.”

“I thought we had more time.”

“It’s a big opportunity for me, and I’d be starting as a weekend anchor in a major market, which is huge, and …” She trailed off. Shook her head. “I was raised to put my career first, and I’m not going to let it be ruined by—” She paused. “I have to keep moving up if I want to make it. I’m sorry, Cody, but I have to leave.”

“Do you want to leave?” he pressed.

Her green eyes implored him. “I have to.”

But you don’t, he thought. You’re choosing to.

“I don’t get that, Cassie. You’re making a choice. I mean, aren’t we happy together?” His voice was choked. “I sure thought I was. I thought I was goddamned happy, and I thought you were, too.”

He didn’t just think it; he knew it. The way they’d made love, the intimacy they’d shared, the connection they felt—that wasn’t something to just be tossed away.

“I don’t think I have what it takes to make it here,” she said.

“I disagree.” But he could see that his views on the matter—the way he saw her, as a woman of strength and determination and forthright curiosity about the world—didn’t matter anymore. Apparently, only her career did. And getting back to her precious city living.

“Was I just something to fill your time until something better came along?” It hurt like hell to say the words, but he had to know.

“Of course not,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “Cody, there’s nothing better than being in your arms. It’s the only place I really feel safe.”

Then stay in my arms. Stay right here.

“Tell me you don’t love me,” he said.

She wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

“You bought wine glasses,” she said, smiling sadly at him.

“I love you, Cassie.”

There. He’d said it. He no longer had to worry about scaring her away with his overpowering emotion; at this point, he had nothing to lose—nothing, of course, but Cassie, who it seemed he was losing anyway.

“Cody …”

Her tone pleaded for him to make it easy for her to let him go, but why the hell should he?

“I love you,” he repeated. He wanted her to know what she was doing to him. To them. That she might be furthering her career, but she was ruining their happiness. “I’m not going to let you go without telling you that.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said again. “I’d better go.”

She stood and let herself out the door, closing it with a soft click behind her.

It killed him that she’d given up on them so easily. What they had was real. It wasn’t something you found every day. How could she not see that? Was she so blinded by the glitz of the city and the glamour of her career that the power of their quiet love, a river that ran so deep, just wasn’t sparkly enough for her?

He wasn’t enough. It had been his biggest fear going in, and her decision to leave confirmed it. Of course, had she chosen to stay, he still might not have been enough in the end, either. Love, sometimes, was not enough.

He sat for a long time at the kitchen table he’d bought for them, wondering where it had all gone wrong, and only stood when a timer went off in the kitchen. He turned off the stove and looked out the window into the darkening forest.

What a waste, he thought.

He wouldn’t throw away good meat. But he did uncork the expensive wine, take a long, bitter swig straight from the bottle, and then step outside and pour the rest onto the ground, watching as it gushed out in a blood-like stream and disappeared into the loamy earth.