Dean sat in his office, trying to work on the schedule for the next two weeks, but his eyes kept drifting away from his computer and through his open door to the woman behind the bar. He could only see the far corner of the bar, catching glimpses of her as she moved. She laughed at something a customer said, the sound hitting him like a punch in the gut.

God, he missed her.

And, if he was honest with himself, he missed them. Together.

For probably the hundredth time, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened the picture of the two of them together at the rehearsal dinner—the one he’d asked Mike to take. They were both smiling, eyes bright. His heart clenched, because he wanted to go back and re-live those moments with her.

There was a sharp rap on his open office door, and he looked up to find Matt in his doorway. Even though he’d seen him a week ago in Mexico, Dean was happy to see Matt again. Lord knew he could use a friendly face.

“Hey, man, come on in,” he said, waving his cousin inside. “I thought you were headed back to Seattle?”

Matt shook his head. “We flew from Mexico to Denver to visit Ellie’s parents for a few days, and then came up here. Get some clean Wyoming air, spend some more time with Ethan and Mom and Dad.”

“You want something to eat? I can get the kitchen to whip something up.”

Matt smiled. “Wouldn’t say no to a burger and a beer.”

Dean stood. “Let’s go grab a table. I need to get out from behind this desk.” He moved toward the kitchen, Matt following him. As he passed the bar, he nodded awkwardly at Carly, who glanced at him and then looked away, busying herself with something. Dean pointed Matt toward a booth in the back, and then ordered their food.

“Hey, Carly. Can I get two Blue Moons?” he asked, knowing it was Matt’s favorite.

She stared at him for a second, not saying anything, as though she were waiting. Then she sighed, pulled two bottles from the fridge and popped the tops off, sliding them over to him. She moved away, shaking her head.

A dull ache radiated through his chest. He’d never realized it was possible to miss someone even when they were standing right in front of you, but he missed Carly all the time.

He picked up the beers and sat down in the booth Matt had chosen, passing one to him.

Matt took a sip and then tipped his bottle toward the bar. “What’s that all about?”

“What?”

“Don’t give me that. You and Carly. You were nuts about each other less than two weeks ago and now it’s frostier than the North Pole in here.” Matt took another sip of his beer. “What did you do?”

Dean took a sip of his own beer. “What makes you think I’m the one who did something?”

Matt said nothing, merely arched an eyebrow.

Dean sighed, giving in. “Fine. Yeah. It was me. I fucked everything up.”

“How? She was clearly crazy about you.”

Dean opened his mouth, ready to tell Matt to mind his own business, but instead, he started unburdening himself, telling Matt the whole story from the beginning, not leaving anything out. It was cathartic, pouring everything out, and he didn’t even pause when their food came, letting it sit in front of him.

Matt listened with a wry smile, not saying anything until Dean had finished. Then he pursed his lips and nodded. “You know, if everyone would just listen to me the first time around, their lives would be so much easier.” He leveled his clear blue gaze at Dean. “Do you remember what I told you? The night of the rehearsal dinner?”

Dean nodded. Truth be told, he’d replayed Matt’s words more than once.

Life is short, and it’s better to live it and risk losing something, to risk the pain that comes with it, than to not live at all.

“Yes or no, you want to be with her?” asked Matt, pointing at him with a French fry.

“Yes.” Carly was right. What they’d had had been real. Or at least it had been, until he’d let fear win. He’d never given them a chance, and now he’d lost her. She was barely speaking to him, barely looking at him.

“Then, dude, you gotta stop holding yourself hostage to your past. You spent so much time worrying that you were going to hurt her that it became this self-fulfilling prophecy. If you want to be with her, go fucking be with her.”

Dean nodded and chewed his burger slowly. He suddenly had a new appreciation for the way she’d put herself out there when she’d told him about her feelings. She’d done a hard, brave thing, and he’d practically run out of the room with his tail between his legs.

He didn’t want to be scared anymore. He didn’t want to live his life in fear.

He wanted to be with her, and that want was bigger than the fear. He’d been vulnerable with her, and . . . it had felt good. Right. And like an asshole, he’d rejected her when she’d wanted to pursue what had been simmering between them for a long time. The trip, with the sex, had simply taken things to a new level.

“So what are you going to do?” asked Matt, wiping at his mouth. “What have you tried so far?”

“Uh . . . pretty much dick fucking all.”

“Okay, well, A: you’re an idiot; and B: you need to come up with a game plan before it’s too late.”

Dean nodded again, trying to figure out how to show Carly that he wanted another chance. That he knew he’d fucked up, and that he was sorry, and have her believe him. He and Matt spent the rest of their meal talking about other stuff—sports, the weather, Matt’s upcoming wedding—but Dean was only half checked in to the conversation.

They finished their meals, and after Matt left, Dean headed back to his office, trying to figure out what to do.

At the soft rap on his door, he jerked his head up. Carly stood in the doorway. Her shift had just ended, and she had her purse slung over her shoulder.

“Hey, I need to talk to you,” she said, stepping into his office.

He felt as though he’d been hit with a ray of sunshine after weeks of rain. Hope.

“Sure. You want to sit down?”

She shook her head, her eyes searching his. For what, he wasn’t sure. “I got a new job. So I guess this is my formal notice, or whatever, that I’m quitting.” She toyed with the strap of her purse.

All that hope vanished, leaving a gaping black hole in his chest. “What?”

“I thought I could still work here, but I can’t. It’s too hard, seeing you every day. I’ll finish up the week, but then that’ll be it.”

“Carly, please, don’t. Can we talk about this?”

She shook her head and started to back out of the office. “My mind’s made up. I’m sorry that I ruined our friendship.”

She spun and left the office, and he pushed out of his chair. “Carly, wait.”

She turned, and he was surprised at the fire in her eyes. “I’ve been waiting, for two damn weeks, Dean. I’m done.”

And with that, she was gone.

But he wasn’t letting her go. Not this time. Because he knew, clear as day, that not having Carly in his life was so much worse than having to face his fears. Than having to be vulnerable. Than maybe getting hurt in the process.

And all she’d had to do was put her heart on the line, get rejected, be ignored by him for two weeks, and then quit to make him see it.

Yeah. He really was an idiot.

* * *

Carly pulled into the parking lot of the Tipsy Bison, frowning at the lack of cars. A sign on the front door read “Closed for Private Event.” She frowned, pulling her phone out of her purse to check her work schedule. Tonight was supposed to be her second-to-last shift, and Dean hadn’t mentioned anything about a private event. Granted, they weren’t really talking, which was a big part of the reason she’d found another job in the first place. Oh, well. She could just as easily pour drinks for some private event as she could for regular customers.

She stepped out of her car and pulled open the bar’s front door, stepping inside. It took her eyes a second to adjust to the dim light around her. When they did, she gasped.

She’d never seen the bar look so beautiful. Candles dotted nearly every surface, and a string of lights glowed softly along the bar. An enormous vase of pink and white flowers stood in the center of one of the larger tables. Music floated softly on the air.

“Hey.” Dean emerged from the direction of his office. Her stomach flipped over on itself at the sight of him. It was unfair that the man could make a simple white T-shirt and worn jeans look so good.

She swallowed, managing to free her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “Hey. What’s, uh, what’s going on? Private event?”

He took a few steps toward her, his hands in his back pockets. The candlelight flickered against of his chiseled features, and there was an openness in his gaze, something almost raw. Something real. Her heart beat a little bit faster in her chest.

“This is for you. I wanted to make sure I had your attention.” He took a deep breath and held his hands out at his sides. “Please don’t quit.”

She snorted softly. “You do this every time one of your employees resigns?”

“Only the ones I’m in love with.”

Her entire body went numb, and her purse slipped to the floor with a soft thunk. “What?”

He took another step toward her, taking her hands. Oh, God. They were shaking. “You were right.”

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “About?”

He smiled, and her insides felt all warm and melty. “Everything. As usual.” He took a breath, and she could tell it was costing him a lot to do this. To be honest and real and vulnerable with her. “You were right about us. What we have is worth taking a chance on. And you were right about me being an idiot, about hiding behind my bullshit. You were right, and God, Car, we were right.”

She nodded shakily. “We were. But you threw it away.”

He closed his eyes for a second, pain flashing across his features. “I know. Remember the part about me being an idiot?” The corner of his mouth turned up. “I’m sorry I hurt you. It was the last thing I wanted to do. I just . . . fuck, I just went about it all wrong.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Here’s what I should’ve said in Mexico: Yes. Let’s do it. Let’s take a chance and see where this goes, because the truth is . . .” He took a shaky breath. “I’m in love with you. And I’m sorry it took me this long to figure it out. And I’m sorry for all the stupid shit I’m going to do in the future, because this is new and weird and scary for me. I’m an idiot, but God, I want to be your idiot.”

She smiled up at him, her eyes stinging with relief as the words she’d so wanted to hear flowed over her. “I might be a little bit in love with you, too. Even if you are an idiot,” she admitted.

A smile broke out across his face, and he dipped his head, brushing his lips across hers. “Give me another chance to get it right.”

“Yes. You’re forgiven.” They were the easiest three words she’d ever spoken. Her world made so much more sense with him in it. She made sense with him.

He kissed her, and it was a kiss full of heat, and hope, and promise. Full of love and happiness, and all the things they’d found together. Soon, the kiss changed, becoming deeper and hotter, hungry and urgent.

“God, I missed you,” he groaned against her mouth. He broke the kiss just long enough to pull her shirt off over her head.

“Show me how much,” she whispered.

And he did.

Twice.