Cori sat on the arm of the loveseat and swung her legs. Nerves were getting to her. She'd gotten up before him, switched off his alarm, and had done something she knew would piss him off. His chores.

All his life, Fort had been needed, the person his dad depended on most. It might be mean of her to show him that, for some things around the ranch, he was just another hand. Plus, he looked exhausted. Several times last night he'd sighed wearily in his sleep. She'd even accidentally kicked him in the chest and he hadn't so much as startled. His lips were dry and more than once last night she'd seen him rub his temple. A headache combined with dehydration could mean fatigue. So she threw him a bone.

Never mind that she had a good time mucking out the horse stalls and feeding the goats. When Mrs. Saira had gone in to start breakfast was when Cori woke Fort.

He had not been happy. Even now he scowled at her in the mirror. She responded by rolling her eyes.

Once Fort finished shaving, they would head into town and begin their dog and pony show. She regarded her clothes, hoping her dark wash jeans, brown cowboy boots, and light yellow floral peasant shirt said casual and cool. Not hot mess and bumbling idiot. He was engrossed in the manly task of scraping off facial hair and she took the opportunity to study his profile. Darn if he wasn't hunky. He'd filled out in all the right places. “You know they make electric razors,” she said as she watched him slowly scrape a straight razor up his throat.

“Yeah, they don't work for me. My beard’s too thick, and all I get are red bumps and stubble.” He banged the razor in the sink and went back to shaving again.

“Okay, let me review one more time.” She needed to fill the air with something. Watching him shave was...intimate, and she felt like a voyeur. He was not her fiancé, much less her friend, and sharing this intimacy was confusing. Even in the bed last night, his feet close to her face should have been gross but wasn't. Having someone nearby was comforting, and it hadn't escaped her notice that all their important parts lined up regardless of sleeping head to foot.

He glanced at her. “Is any part giving you trouble?”

She looked away, focusing on the preserved antlers of an eight-point buck that hung over the bathroom entry and tried to erase the image of him shaving from her brain. “Nope, want to make sure I have it down. We're sticking close to the truth. We've known each other since we were kids. After you got out of the Navy, you came back to Texas for an auction as part of ranch business and came through Brewster for old time’s sake. That's where we ran into each other and reignited the old spark. The reason I haven't been up here is because of my job and family in Texas.” She snorted with cynicism. “Because, you know, my job in the photo department at the supercenter was so important. Working for like, Mitzi, the like imbecile fresh from, like, high school”—she tossed her head, pretending to send hair over her shoulder—“was everything I ever aspired to.”

“That's what you do. Work at the supercenter?” He was patting his face dry with a towel. “I thought you were handling the restitution.”

“That's my other job. The supercenter is what paid my bills. At least it did up until a few days ago when I lost my cool and told everyone within earshot to suck it.” She picked at a hangnail, still embarrassed by her behavior.

Fort studied her, and she squirmed on the arm, looking everywhere but at him.

“I'd have liked to seen that.”

Briefly, she ducked her head in shame. “No, you wouldn’t have. It was awful. Remember Mrs. McAdams?”

He nodded. “I dated Carly once.” He held up his index finger. “Just once because when I went to pick her up, Mrs. McAdams asked her if she wanted to live her life with a gambling fool. Like father like son, she'd said.”

At least his gambling fool father had been a jovial, friendly guy who never wanted to hurt people. “And she still made out with you in your truck?”

Fort glanced at her before splashing after-shave on his face. “Carly was going through a defiant stage. She got what she wanted from me and moved on.”

Even back then Cori had known Fort and Carly hadn't been well suited from the get-go. Carly was destined to become a shrew like her mom.

Cori pressed her lips together. “Yeah, well, she ran off with some guy from another town over. She never comes to visit. Can't blame her really. I suppose I had enough of Mrs. McAdams and lost my cool. When I told them all to suck it, I was really talking to her and the store manager who'd just promoted Mitzi to assistant manager of the department. Stupid girl can't even fix the processer.”

Fort smiled, a slight uptick of the corner of his mouth. He finished in the bathroom and walked into the main room. He took his Stetson off the hook.

Cori sighed, her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I have no business telling Mrs. McAdams to suck it, no matter how awful she is. My dad nearly ruined her family. For generations they were ranchers and, now, because my dad swindled them out of a good portion of their herd and some land, the guys have gone to work on oil rigs and the ranching is part-time.” She slid from the loveseat. “Let's keep all that out of the story, shall we?”

Fort's smile faded. “Okay. We can do that. So what are you going to say if they ask why you're here now?”

“I'm going to say I'm supporting your love for this town and dedication to the law. I'm here because I want to know what's so great about a town and its people that my man is making me choose between him and Wolf Creek or Brewster.” She rolled her eyes. “I haven't been into Wolf Creek yet, but I already choose it.”

“Come on,” he said and held open the door. “Let's get this over with.”

Cori said, “Morning” to all the animals in the barn as they made their way through. She missed working on a ranch and looked forward to doing as much as she could to help tomorrow.

The ride to town was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. In fact, today's conversation had been uncharacteristically civil. Cori smiled. They might pull this off after all.

Wolf Creek was adorable. As far as small towns went, it was tiny. Quaint, even, and she instantly loved it. Fort parked the truck a block from the diner, and as they walked toward it, he pointed out some of the businesses: the town paper, a market, a flower/trinket store, a women's boutique, and across the square was the sheriff's office and county jail. When they got to the diner, Cori froze.

“Come on,” he said, hand on the door ready to open it.

Her stomach rolled with apprehension. “What if I mess this up for you?”

“You won't. Ready?”

She nodded her head but said, “No.”

Fort's smil crooked up on one side. How long had it been since someone had shown her kindness? And Fort, whose life was forever changed by the actions of her father, was standing before her being gentle and understanding. She didn't deserve it.

She stepped back, and in a flash, he reached out and grabbed her hand, threading his fingers between hers. “I never figured you for a chicken,” he said and tugged her toward him.

The connection to him through his palm was a lifeline, a channel of strength where she found courage. With her hand tucked firmly in his, she didn't feel alone. Instead, she was half of a whole. Yeah, a whole that was up to no good, relatively speaking. A whole that would split eventually, but for now she'd take it. She'd spent a lot of time living present day for the past. Now she was going to simply live today.

“Besides, I see Deke and Conway Witty in there. We need to figure out what he's up to.”

Cori straightened. “No good. That's what he's up to. Oh, I have this for you.” She took a zip drive from the front pocket of her jeans. “Here are his pictures. I don't know if you have some database or something you can run him through.” While Fort was showering, she had downloaded the pictures. Man, the fury on Fort's face when he'd seen her coming down the escalator had been scary and hard to look at.

He squeezed her hand, tucked the drive in his short pocket, then opened the door and led her in.

“Morning all,” he said and guided her to a booth at the back of the room.

The room suddenly grew quiet. Cori didn't have to look around to know she was being studied. She kept her eyes on Fort's back and a beauty pageant smile plaster to her face. She probably looked like an idiot; she certainly felt like one.

“Folks, that little bit of beauty Fort is dragging in behind him is his fiancée, Cori,” Deke said. Cori saw him standing by the counter. He gave her a small wave.

A murmur rippled through the crowd, and Cori heard her name a few times. Fort reached the booth, then stepped aside and guided her in. Once she was seated, he slid in next to her. Reaching across her, he took one menu from behind the napkin holder and placed it open between them. He then sat back and put his arm across the back of the bench seat, his hand touching her shoulder.

An older lady, grandma material, dressed in a cowboy shirt with rhinestones, slid in the seat across from them. Cori liked her immediately. Possibly because her short bob had pink tips.

“Hello,” she said and extended a leathery-looking hand.

Ranch hands, Cori thought. She glanced at her own pale one as she went to shake the woman's.

“I'm Bette Zykowski. You can call me Mrs. Z. My land butts up to The Second Chance Ranch.”

“Cori Walters.”

“You're adorable,” Mrs. Z said, then switched her focus to Fort. “I'm glad you took my advice. Why you've kept this sweet creature from us I'll never know.”

“That's my fault,” Cori said and glanced at Fort. “He's been asking, but I've put it off. When he comes to see me, I don't have to share him with anyone, but here I have to share him with everyone.” She gestured to the crowd. Some had gone back to eating while others were surreptitiously checking her out.

A waitress about Fort's age came up to the table. “Hey, you all ready to order?” She stared at Cori.

“Sally, this is my girlfriend, Cori. This is Sally.”

“Hi,” Cori said. “Nice to meet you.” She didn't bother extending her hand. The waitress wouldn't take it. Cori knew contempt when she saw it, and Sally had it all over her face.

“What can I get you, Fort,” Sally asked in a syrupy sweet voice.

“I'll have two eggs, hard, with two sides of bacon. Coffee, too, please.”

“You want me to make sure the bacon is extra crispy like you like?” Sally asked while watching Cori.

“Sure. And get Cori the Lumberjack special.”

Cori scanned the menu for the Lumberjack.

“Are you sure? She looks like the sort to eat a grapefruit and nothing else.”

“Oh, she'll eat it.” He turned to Cori. “If you eat it all, then it's free.”

Cori found it on the menu and gulped. The special was a little bit of everything: eggs, pancakes, bacon, sausage, biscuits and gravy, and hash browns. “That looks like a lot of food,” she said as her stomach growled.

He raised one brow and smiled.

“But I'll give it my best,” she said.

“That's the spirit, short stuff,” he said and squeezed her shoulder.

Sally stomped off in a huff.

“I hope she doesn't spit in my food,” Cori mumbled.

“Oh, yes. There are going to be a handful of women in town who will be disappointed with your appearance. There was talk that he'd made you up, and I think a few of those women were hoping it was true.”

Cori briefly caught Fort's eye before saying brightly, “Well, here I am. In the flesh.”

“Does this mean you'll be throwing your hat in and running for sheriff?” Mrs. Z asked.

Fort nodded. “It does.”

Mrs. Z hooted. “Hey Deke, looks like you'll have some competition,” she yelled across the room.

Deke was still standing by the counter talking with Witty. He turned, smiled, and said, “I'm looking forward to it.”

An older man, a rancher based on his weathered skin and large belt buckle, stood and shouted Fort's name.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Phillips?”

“I'd like to know why you want to be sheriff here and not some other town or her town?” Mr. Phillips asked, jabbing a finger in Cori's direction before putting his hands on his hips.

Cori was sitting close enough she was privy to Fort’s initial reaction. He stiffened, and his mouth dropped open slightly as if searching for words. Cori was getting to know Fort, a different side to him, and one thing was certain, he loved Wolf Creek and the people in it. He was going to great lengths for them, and when he showed her around, he'd told her who ran what, filling in little details about the people. Trouble was the old Fort, the one from Brewster, wasn't letting anyone in to get to know him better.

Cori pushed herself up so she was crouched on the booth, looking over Fort's shoulder. “I'll tell you why Fort wants to be sheriff here and not somewhere else like Brewster. He's too shy to open up, especially to a large group of people at one time.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “But I'm not.”

A few people in the room chuckled.

“Fort's always been about community. When we were kids, he'd work his dad's ranch, go to school, and then go about town helping others when times were down for them.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Remember Mrs. Bellows?” she asked him, then returned her attention to the crowd. “Mrs. Bellows lost her only child and husband in a car accident when we were younger kids. To stay afloat, she had her own garden and bees. Fort would go over there and help her till and plant and pull honeycomb. Every week he did something for her for years, until she passed away his senior year. He didn't do it for money. She didn't have much and paid him in banana bread. His favorite. He did it for community. Brewster is no longer a community of people united but divided. They've had some bad luck and hard times. It's no longer the home he knew as a kid. I barely recognize it myself. But Wolf Creek, wow, what an amazing town. Fort gave me a tour earlier. I know that the Jacobson's who run the drugstore are expecting twins and that Mrs. Jacobson loves to ride horses. Competes even, but her doctor has restricted her from riding. Which, understandably, is making her a little sad.”

“And mean. Yesterday she called me an old coot and told me to not come back until after the twins were born,” Mr. Phillips said.

“Well, you are an old coot,” Mrs. Z replied.

The crowd laughed.

“Did you know Fort's teamed up with her husband and found her some volunteer work for the Sheriff's Department to keep her busy and distracted?” Cori continued.

Fort ducked his head, shook it briefly, and said, “Well, we're hunting buddies and I'm just hoping we'll be able to hunt again one day.”

More laughter.

“There's a charm to this town that's palpable. I felt it the moment I came here. You all have managed to preserve a quality of life that's hard to find anywhere else. And Fort here, a man who still shaves the old school way”—she made like she was using a brush to lather cream on her face and then stretched her head back, pretending to shave her neck with a straight razor—“embodies that way of life. Will do anything to protect it, to keep this community intact. This is his home, where his soul comes alive. Even I can see it on his face. There was a visible change in him yesterday once we got away from the airport and closer to Wolf Creek. That's why he's running for sheriff, because he believes in this town, the people, the way of life, and it’s his home. Of course, he'd never say all this. He's more an actions-speak-louder-than-words kinda guy.” She hung her hand off his shoulder hoping her ring would catch some of the diner's light and the patron's attention.

She looked around the room, used her best pageant smile while trying to make eye contact with as many people as she could. She wanted this for Fort. Maybe in part to make up for what her dad had done, but also because he would be really good at it. She then slid back into her seat and tucked her trembling hands beneath her legs.

“Well said, dear,” Mrs. Z said.

The crowd had gone back to chatting, occasionally sending furtive looks their way. Fort was quiet, so much so that it made her nervous.

When their meal came, Sally fairly tossed the dishes at Cori. While they ate, several of the locals came and made their introductions. She thought she'd be too nervous to eat, but the food was good, comforting, and she was starving. She didn't require encouragement to finish the meal; it was gone in a flash.

“Hey, Sally. Looks like my girl is getting her meal for free,” Fort yelled.

The crowd laughed. “Leave her to us, Deputy, we'll fatten her right up,” someone called.

“If the election were a food-eating contest, Fort's girl would win,” Deke said.

Chuckles rang through the room, and Cori felt her cheeks go hot.

“Don't be embarrassed, girl,” Mrs. Z said. “You've just gone from being an outsider they'll hold at arms’ distance to someone they want to know.”

Well, that would be a new experience for her. She wasn't sure how to handle it.

“I have to get to work,” Fort said and slid his keys along the table to Cori. “Here's the truck keys. You think you can find the way back to the ranch?”

“Sure. It's a straight shot.” She picked up his simple keys, one round silver ring and three keys.

“Don't forget to come back and get me at eleven.”

The conversation was so civil and easy she forgot she hated him. Okay, disliked him a lot. She made a mock grimace. “Oh, I can't make any promises.”

Fort gave her a stern look.

She waved dismissively. “Go try and scare someone else.”

He tossed some dollars on the table, tipped his hat to Mrs. Z, and was gone.

Mrs. Z was smiling at her. “I've been around. Seen lots of people married who liked each other, loved each other, and some who couldn't stand each other. I see something in you two. Something amazing if you both take the leap.”

Cori looked at the empty plates before her and searched for words.

“You don't need to say anything. Just think about it. It’s not often something real is within your reach.” She scooted out of the booth and was off with a clack of her heels.

In that precise moment, Cori hated who she was and what she and Fort were doing. Doing people wrong was wrong, regardless of the act. She didn't want Fort to be a pariah in the town he'd declared his home like she was. She could guess what “home” meant to him. It was having a land to build something permanent, a town where he fit in. Home was community. She watched him struggle back in Texas, working hard to turn the small herd and land his dad had won into a real ranch, a place they could grow roots. If she were to guess, if this plan went wrong here, Fort would personalize it as another failure and she would have played a role in it. Cori took her camera from her bag and removed the lens cap. After turning it toward herself, she snapped a few selfies. She wanted to remember what she looked like the moment she moved forward with her plan to con a town.

After she set the camera on the table and angled it to capture most of the diner, she pressed the shutter several times, hoping to catch candid photos of the townsfolk and get insight on the town vibe. The Smithsonian and Nikon photo contests were coming up, and Cori really hoped to have something entered. If she could win one of those, or even place, the accolades alone would give her the confidence to pursue photography. It would be the sign from the universe telling her what to do with her life, that photography was her path, her purpose.

Fort's money lay on the table, including an ample tip, so she made her way outside, stopping to meet and shake hands with many of the locals. Cori walked the square of the town, all four blocks, window shopping along the way. Occasionally, folks would wave at her from the other side. Here only hours, and she was more welcome than she had been in years in her hometown.