In a town as small as Brooksville, there’s only two things that are certain. The first is that almost everyone knows everyone else’s business. The second thing is that, whatever they don’t know, they make up.

Even though Izzy’s been unwilling to talk to me for the three years I’ve been away, I’ve managed to keep tabs on her, hearing tidbits of information and gossip from my parents and the people from town who’d travelled to different rodeo events to watch me compete. I always asked about her, to make sure she was doing okay, but also in hopes that she’d find out I was still interested. I wanted her to know I still cared about her, even if she didn’t care about me.

That also opened me up to hearing the stories and gossip that involved her, true or not. That's how I found out about her relationship with Chad Easton. I had been too cowardly to ask how serious the relationship was, but if the arched eyebrows and inability to meet my eyes were any indication, according to the people I talked to, it must have been pretty serious, especially for everyone to know about it. Not that word wouldn't have gotten around if it was merely a fling, but for it to have been brought up as many times as it was to me, Isabelle and Chad must have been a thing for a while. The last I heard of it was well over a year ago though, and I'd been sure to find out from Blake and Rodney when I got back into town that Izzy wasn't with anyone anymore.

Which meant she was fair game, and that I still had a chance.

And, damn it, I'd taken that chance earlier today. I won't lie, it wasn't my intention when I walked into that diner to send my friends away and get her alone in that bathroom. To say that it was a less-than-ideal spot to have her the way I did is an understatement. But, when I walked in and her eyes locked with mine, I knew I wasn't going to be able to wait. I'd craved Isabelle Thompson for far too long, and seeing her—Christ, she hadn't changed a bit. She was just as gorgeous as I remembered, if not even prettier than my mind had pictured her. She was still beautiful, still fiery, and still passionate as hell in everything she did.

And if the passion and fury between us in that shabby-looking bathroom was any indication, she’d been craving me just as desperately as I've been craving her.

Or had been, at least.

Now, I'm not sure what to think. Isabelle wanted me in that moment just as badly as I wanted her. And though I don't think she'll even admit it to herself at this point, let alone to me or anyone else, I think that wanting that’s been smoldering within her for so long and finally ignited when we came together, that unbridled need that undid her at the slightest sensation of my touch...I think it scared the hell out of her.

She hadn't been expecting it, having chosen to bury it deep within her and ignore it. And for the first time since she'd chosen to ignore it, to ignore how much she needed me, she'd been forced to face that desire, and she succumbed to it, too quickly and too completely.

Now, she needs time. I know that, and I understand that, but it doesn't make it any easier when the only thing I want to do right now is drive over to that little house that Addie Phillips rented to her last year—Blake told me about it—and remind her once more just how fucking perfect we are together. There's so much we need to talk about, so damn much I need to tell her.

But I can't overwhelm her anymore than I already have. Izzy is one of the strongest women I've ever known, and anyone else in this Podunk town will back me up on it. But she's also stubborn as hell, something that I've always loved about her, and she won't be forced into anything. That truth alone gives me hope that the fact that she gave herself to me so willingly earlier today means that there's a fighting chance of me winning her back.

But Isabelle Thompson isn't someone who will be won unless she damn well wants to be.

So, for now, all I can do is do what any self-respecting guy in his twenties does on a Friday night in this sleepy little town.

Tonight, we drink.

I don't plan on getting too rowdy or making a fool of myself like I once might have under the influence of one too many tequila shots, but the thought of chilling out at Tonk’s with the guys and listening to the country-rock band that Rodney was going on about today sounds like a pretty decent way to pass the time Izzy needs to come to the same conclusion I've already come to—that we're still meant to be together.

So, I picked up Blake and Rodney and drove to Tonk’s bar, telling myself I'd only have one and I’d make sure that the rest of my buddies got home safe. I haven't been around in a long while, so it's the least I can do to let them have a night out and let loose knowing they'd have a ride home when the music ends and last call is unannounced.

The band is good, I'll give them that. Anyone who can cover a Jason Aldean song that well is okay in my books. I've even managed to nurse the same Budweiser for the last hour without anyone giving me a hard time about needing another one. I've kept my ass plunked in this chair, pulled up to one of the tables in the far corner where I can watch the band play and amuse myself by watching everybody else get wasted while still being able to shoot the shit with the guys.

And I’ve been having a pretty good time, too.

Then, two things happen. First, I see Emily saunter through the door, followed closely by a very sexy-looking, very unsteady-on-her-feet Isabelle. The second thing that happens is I see Chad Easton on the other side of the room. I also see his eyebrows shoot up at the sight of Izzy, and a mischievous grin tugs at his mouth.

I could ignore it. Hell, I should ignore it. Isabelle isn't mine.

But she damn well isn't his, either.

Which is exactly why I keep my eye on both of them, watching as both girls get themselves a beer at the bar and find their way onto the dance floor. I also watch as Chad pushes and excuses his way through the throngs of people toward her, his eyes set firmly on his target.

I can tell immediately that the conversation between him and Isabelle isn't a welcomed one. At least, not to Izzy. She's drunk, a blind man could see that, but she's still adamantly trying to turn away from him, focusing her attention on Emily and the beer in her hand. Chad, however, seems to be either too buzzed to get the hint, or he's sober and just doesn't give a shit.

Either way, I'm up and out of my chair the moment I see him reach out and grab her by the arm, whirling her around to face him. Izzy's pissed by this point, but her feeble attempt to push him away only results in her intoxicated body swaying dangerously, and Chad uses it to his benefit to pull her closer to him. Isabelle's slurred demand for him to let her go hits my ears just as I push by the last person standing in my way.

“I said get your hands off me, Chad.” Izzy's voice is loud, and the people standing close by turn to stare, but I'm disgusted to see that nobody else steps up to help her out.

“I think you’d better listen to the lady,” I pipe up. I don't reach out to pull Izzy toward me, but it's a damn strong urge I have coursing through my veins.

Isabelle's eyes grow wide as she takes me in—she obviously hadn’t known I was here—but she doesn't say anything. Probably because she doesn't get the chance.

Chad has already turned toward me, a wicked grin on his face as he recognizes me. “Well, well, well, if it isn't the fucking golden boy himself.” He might be in the mood to fight me, but at least he's wisely taken his hand off Izzy's arm.

“I don't know about that,” I say through clenched teeth. “But I'm pretty sure Isabelle asked you to leave her be. I think you need to respect that.”

“You do, do you?” Chad lets out a scornful laugh, looking around as though the other folks around us might find this idea as funny as he seems to. Thankfully, the crowd that's begun to huddle around us isn't seeing the humor, either. “That's the thing, he adds with a sneer. “I really don't give a shit what you think.”

“That's your prerogative, man,” I bite out. “But you're still damn well going to care what Izzy thinks.”

Chad takes a step forward, and for the first time I can smell the liquor on his breath. “Or what, Andrews? Are you going to show up and be the one to save the damsel in distress?” He reaches out and shoves me warningly in the shoulder.

I groan inwardly. Not because it hurts, but because this is not going to end well.

“Izzy can look after herself, everyone knows that.” There’s venom in my voice now. “But there ain't no decent man around here that's going to stand by and watch you manhandle her when she's damn well not interested,” I spit out. “Now, do yourself a favor and get the fuck out of here.”

“Well, Jesus,” Chad laughs hollowly again. “Not only did you ruin things for her when weren’t here, but now you’ve got to show up and prove that you can meddle in things now, too? Shit, you've messed her up so bad she can't even be happy with anyone else.” He scoffs angrily again. “Christ, Andrews, you really are an asshole, aren't you?”

My fist hits the son of a bitch’s jaw before I consciously make the decision to punch him. A series of gasps and shrieks sound around me, but everyone takes a step back instead of jumping forward to pull me away from him. And that's fine, because it only takes one shot to knock Chad to the floor. And, judging by the way he's cupping his jaw and mumbling out a string of curse words as he lays splayed out, I'd say I don't have to worry about him getting back up anytime soon.

I look up to see Isabelle and Emily both standing there, unmoving, eyes wide as though they can't fully comprehend what just happened. “You okay?” I ask them.

Both women nod their head, still silent. Which is a bit shocking, seeing as I’m expecting Izzy to rip me a new one over getting involved. But she doesn't. Instead, she says something that shocks me even more.

“I want to go home.” The way she's staring at me while she says it tells me exactly what she's thinking, and I just nod.

“I can drive you,” I tell her. I can do whatever you want me to do.

Emily's eyes narrow, and she looks between us. “Maybe I should—”

I'm not a fool to think that Izzy hasn't told her best friend about what happened this morning between us. They've been inseparable since grade school. Almost as inseparable as Izzy and I had once been.

“Izzy, I'm driving you home.” My gaze lands on hers, intense and stern.

She stands there, very still, her eyes burning with defiance. She wants to tell me no. She wants to convince herself that she doesn't want me to take her home.

Finally, with one fleeting gaze over to her friend, she gives an encouraging nod. “It's fine,” she assures Emily. “You just got here. I knew I shouldn't have come tonight.” She glares down at Chad, who’s made it up onto his knees, still cursing a slurred streak of incoherent words, then raises her head to stare at me with glazed eyes. It makes me wonder if I'm not part of the reason she wishes she hadn't shown up. “What about your friends?” she asks me. “I find it hard to believe you came alone.”

The corner of my mouth turns up at that. I'm trying to decide whether she's insulting me by assuming I came with another woman after what we'd just done this morning, but, really, it doesn't matter. Because she is even drunker than I thought she was.  Maybe even drunker than Chad. She's always been able to hold her liquor well, but her staggering gait and glassy eyes tell me everything I need to know. “Give me two minutes to talk to Blake and Rodney, then I'm taking you home.”