Lucy moped for a solid month, whining at the door when Slade stopped coming. She still pricked her ears excitedly whenever she heard someone on the porch, only to lay down when it wasn’t him. The two of us were one hot mess.

I didn’t leave my house unless I had to go to work. My skin had gone from sun kissed to vampire white. My eyes, normally one of my better features, looked haunted. Or so Mavis, my boss, said one day when I showed up for my shift at the boutique. Every day since then she’d hinted at the shell I’d become. I sucked in a sharp breath and let it out before opening the door.

“You look like hell,” Mavis clucked at me as soon as I stepped in.

I pulled my sunglasses down my nose and rolled my eyes at her. “I hope you don’t say things like that to your customers.”

Coming around the corner, she stepped in front of me, putting one of her hands on my cheek. “You’ve wandered around like a ghost these last couple of months. Now, I understand you don’t want to talk about it, but honey, you either have to get it off your chest or let it go. You can’t keep going on day after day like you have been. It’s not healthy.”

My eyes closed tight against her concern.

I didn’t open my eyes again until she dropped her hand and shuffled off.

I wasn’t ready to let it go. Wasn’t ready to write Slade off. Even if he had written me off first. I wouldn’t be able to move on from it until I talked to him, but I refused to be the first one to make that call. As childish as it sounded.

But was it too much to ask for him to reach out to me? To open the lines of communication again? Maybe he didn’t want that at all. Maybe he’d moved on. He could have met someone. How fair would it be for me to call him and want to dredge up the past while he’d moved forward? Maybe he left and didn’t say anything because there wasn’t anything left to say. The questions tortured me. The thought of me still stuck in limbo while he found someone else was like swallowing a teaspoon full of glass and calling it medicine.

At least Mavis wasn’t a nagger. She knew when to leave things alone. For the most part. She’d spoke her piece. I’d ignored it. The rest of the day could go by as normal as any other day. Work wise, anyway.

The boutique wasn’t what I’d call a busy place, but it was somewhat steady. Especially when Mavis caved and allowed a small section of the store for workwear. Not only did it bring in extra revenue, but it also kept folks from having to go to a local retail chain just to grab a pair of blue jeans. Mavis also gave the ranchers a pretty good community-based discount. Anything to keep them coming back to the boutique. Normally, it was the wives of ranchers, but there was an occasional cowboy or two who wandered into the store.

The bell above the door jingled. My welcome stalled against the back of my lips as soon as Clint pulled his hat off and smiled at me.

“You work here?” he asked, sounding somewhat baffled.

“Men’s wear is over there.” I flicked my hand at the back corner and left him to it as I hefted a box of sequined dress shirts up on to the long counter.

If I wasn’t tagging clothing, I was folding it. When those things were done, I went over the displays. My days were spent rearranging, moving older inventory to a different spot in hopes of snagging a buyer.

Adding the boutique tags was a mindless job. Handwriting the price on each tag even more so, but I’d done it for so long I could do it in my sleep. Mavis used to do all the tagging, but that stopped when the repetition of using the tagging gun became too much for her hands. She’d handed it all over to me one day. Tags, tagging gun, and the first of many boxes of clothing. “Early onset arthritis. Getting old is a real nightmare, Gracen,” she’d said.

I imagined it was why I’d been given more and more duties over the last year. Mavis wasn’t getting any younger, but she darn sure wasn’t going to give everything up. And she had no one to turn the business over to. Her kids were grown. Neither wanted to move back to Garwood to run a small business.

If it bothered Mavis, she never let it show. She always smiled and said, “If it were their dream, they’d be doing it. But it’s not. It’s mine, and I am instead.”

She was full of wisdom, Mavis was. She always had a quote or old saying for almost everything. I’d heard her issue advice and a good set down, whichever was needed. It was why I didn’t open up about Slade. Because as sure as I was that the sun would rise the next day, I was sure I’d hear something like, ‘If wishes were horses, beggars would ride’ or some such thing. How that related to my exact situation, I had no idea, but it was one she threw out for anything relating to someone wanting something they couldn’t have. Wishing was a form of wasting time when making things happen was a whole lot more productive.

“So, I haven’t seen you much around the ranch,” Clint said, startling me as he set a pair of jeans down on the counter and then pulled out his wallet.

I rung up his jeans, taking his credit card when he handed it to me. “I’ve been working a lot.”

It was a good excuse. I really had been working quite a bit. It was easier than sitting at a home filled with memories that slammed into me at every turn.

When I handed him the receipt to sign, he stalled for a minute before scrawling his name with a quick flick of the pen. “I haven’t had much chance to check out Garwood since I got here, and I was hoping maybe you’d like to go to Rowdy’s for a drink?”

My eyes snapped to his. “Uh, thanks, but I don’t really go to bars.”

His lips turned up into a grin. “No bars, okay. Well, how about burgers? I saw a place just down the street that said they had the best burgers in town.”

God. Could my heart take anymore? Was it some sort of torture to see just how much I could handle before I split at the seams?

Clint tapped my hand with the pen, gaining my attention. “I’ll take that as no on the burgers. How about pizza?”

“Pizza?”

“Italian food? Steak? I’m running out of reasons to ask you out here.” He smirked, tucking the folded jeans under his arm.

“Wait, you need a bag.”

He waved it off. “I got it. So…?”

“So?” I let my hands fall beside me, clenching them out of his sight.

“Pizza? My treat.” He smiled, waiting.

I swallowed once. Twice. Clenched and unclenched my hands. My mouth moved as I tried to form a reply. I wasn’t looking for a relationship. I wasn’t ready to move on. How could I not, though? Even Slade had said something about me never giving anyone a fair shake. Did I dare take his advice? Did I even want to?

Clint chuckled. “Tell ya what—why don’t you think about it and let me know?”

I nodded, unable to say anything.

“Think about what?” Mavis asked as she came out of the back room, eyebrow quirked as she looked Clint over from head to toe. “A friend of yours, Gracen?”

Clint gave her a smile, dimples bracketing his mouth as he stretched his hand out to her. “Clint Barston. I’m the new foreman at the Owens’ Ranch.”

As soon as he said that, Mavis zeroed in on me as if to say, ‘Well, well—that’s what’s wrong with you’. She knew how close Slade and I were. There wasn’t a story I told that didn’t have something to do with Slade. Only lately, I hadn’t said a word.

Mavis shifted her attention back to Clint. “So what is it you want Gracen to think about, young man?”

“I asked her if I could take her out for pizza.” Clint brought his hat up, placing it on his head and catching the brim between his thumb and first finger. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies.”

Mavis grabbed my arm, dragging me behind Clint as he made his way to the door. “Gracen is just now due for her lunch break.”

She gave me a nudge when I tried to backpedal. “I don’t…”

“Bring me back a slice, would ya?”

Clint’s smile broadened. “Yes, ma’am.”

I found myself out on the sidewalk, Clint’s hand on my lower back as he guided me along to his truck.

When he opened the passenger door, I crossed my arms and took a step back, putting distance between us.

He shook his head, chuckling. “It’s just lunch, Gracen. Food. That’s it.”

I sighed, squared my shoulders, and brushed past him, getting into the truck without making any contact with him. Lunch. It was just lunch. I needed to get a grip.

The spicy scent of Italian seasonings slapped me right in the taste buds as soon as Clint opened the door of the only pizza place in town. The interior hadn’t changed over the years. Everything was done in black and white, except for the bench seats, which were as red as the tomato sauce they used on the pizza and cracked just enough that bits of the seat dug into shorts-clad legs. Menus, sticky with years of use, were slid in the small rack behind the parmesan, crushed red pepper, and salt and pepper shakers.

Clint stepped back, allowing me to choose our seats. I sought out the closest booth and slid into it, glad I’d worn a pair of jeans.

“What kind of pizza do you want?” Clint asked, pulling a menu out of the holder and laying it flat between us.

I hitched my shoulder. “I’m not picky.”

“Anchovies and mushrooms it is.”

I felt the color leaving my face.

He pretended not to notice, taking extra time to put the menu back just right as the waitress walked over.

“What can I get you to drink?” she asked.

Clint asked for a beer, while I stuck with water. Our drinks being delivered broke the awkward silence between us as Clint joked with the waitress. To my relief, he ordered a pepperoni pizza.

I may have even let a small sigh of relief out.

“Not a fan of anchovies?”

I shivered, reaching for my straw and making a production of pushing the ice around. “No. Not really.”

“So what do you like?” he asked, settling back against the bench.

I let go of my straw. My hands found my lap and I twisted my lips, chastising myself. His questions were innocent enough. There was no hint of him prying for a way into my life. He was being polite. The least I could do was be polite back.

“I like to go fishing.”

It seemed to shock him. His eyes widened as he leaned forward. “And…?”

I forced myself to square my shoulders and actually look at him. “I like my job. Love my dog. Horseback riding. What about you?”

“Pizza.” He rubbed his hands together as our waitress slid the bubbling hot pepperoni pizza onto the table.

One piece filled me up since I’d only seemed to pick at food. So much of my life had come to a screeching halt when Slade left. I’d shied away from everything we used to do together because it was too painful to do them on my own. I’d gone into a shell, or a hibernation of sorts, in order to get past it. I’d cut myself off from living because it was easier than dealing with the fact Slade had left and I didn’t think he’d come back.

Clint carried the leftover pieces into the boutique, getting a beaming smile from Mavis for doing so, and said his goodbyes without pushing me to go out with him again.

No pressure. That I could deal with.

I was healing.

Slowly.

After that first lunch with Clint, we went fishing after he used the excuse that he hadn’t seen me out and around the ranch like he used to and wondered if I was all right. He kept a running one-sided banter with me. Smiled and joked. And one day, I started returning his smile. Laughed at his jokes. Tried to take Slade’s advice about just letting things happen.

It was the worst advice I could have taken. The biggest mistake I ever made.

So much changed when Slade left. Uncle Joe turned the ranch over to Lex right before he’d packed his stuff and hightailed it to Florida with Betty. Lex was left reeling when that happened. He’d gone from ranch foreman to ranch owner all in one afternoon. And since it had been such short notice, Lex didn’t have a choice but to bump Clint up into his position, so that he could run the business side of the ranch. Every time Lex saw me, he’d ask if I’d heard from Slade. Each time he asked it felt like a knife going through my heart. I hadn’t talked to him since our argument in the shower. Worse was he’d only called Lex a few times since he made it to Montana.

During that time, Clint wiggled his way in, but he never pushed. Didn’t ask for more than my friendship. And I found myself opening up to him more and more each time he asked me to do something with him.

Each time Clint dragged me out of the house, I learned more and more about him. He made me laugh. I enjoyed his company and found myself looking forward to spending time with him.

One day, when I walked into the barn, he caught me up in his arms and swung me around in a swirl of dizzying circles. “Let’s go camping.”

I put my hand to my head, hoping everything around me would stop spinning. “Camping?”

“Tent, sleeping bags, marshmallows. A fire. Ringing any bells?” he joked.

“Camping. Sure, Lucy will love camping,” I answered.

There was the briefest flicker in his eyes, something like hesitation, but I couldn’t be sure because he changed gears on me. “Okay, I’ll put the gear together. Do you have a cooler?”

I nodded. “I’ll do the food.”

“Well, don’t just stand there, woman. Go get everything together.” He laughed when he saw he’d caught me off guard.

“Now?”

“Yep. Right now. Shake a leg, Lowell. We leave in an hour.” I didn’t miss the fact that he used my last name instead of calling me Gracen. It felt more personal if that made sense.

“Okay… Okay, I’m going.” I darted out of the way when he tried to swat my backside, wondering when I had decided to let him that far in.