Hazel bustled around the small kitchen, making coffee. Dylan had retreated to his favorite couch. He’d fallen quieter and quieter the closer they got to the cabin. Now he sat silently looking at something on his phone.

Sure, they didn’t have WiFi or access to the Internet or email, but he could be reading or playing a game.

Her throat felt like someone had taken her tongue out and tied it in a knot before putting it back in. He’d shared his deeply personal story, and she’d tried to soothe him with “you have your ranch family now,” and “I’ll help you find a dog.”

But he obviously still carried a lot of baggage and emotion over the loss of his ranch and family, as he should. He hadn’t said how long ago it was, but it had to be years and years. He’d been at Grape Seed for almost five years, and had worked somewhere else before that.

She’d seen him put cream and sugar in his coffee that morning, so she fixed him a cup and took it to him on the couch. “Here you are.” She sighed as she sat next to him.

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the mug and taking a sip. “Ready to go back tomorrow?”

Hazel swallowed her own creamy, sweet coffee and groaned. “No. Are you?”

“Birthday party tomorrow,” he said. “And yeah, it gets a little lonely out here.”

“Even with me here?”

He reached over and curled his hand around hers. “No, you’ve made it bearable.”

She half snorted, half laughed. “Oh, I’ll put that on my resume. Makes camping bearable.”

Dylan chuckled too, and Hazel knew he’d either fall asleep on the couch or head to bed if she didn’t start talking.

“So I went to beauty school as soon as I graduated from high school.” She removed her hand from his and leaned forward to set her coffee mug on the floor before tucking her feet under her body. She was already keyed up and didn’t need the extra stimulant.

“I had a salon in my home in Alabama, but….” She exhaled, really pushing the extra air out of her lungs. “Since I wasn’t part of the family business, things were a bit strained. They’d call me when they needed help. Didn’t understand when I couldn’t just run over with a missing hose or call a client. That kind of stuff.” She braided her fingers together and then released them.

“It was like they didn’t get that I wanted a different life. My own life. All of my relationships are better now that I don’t live there.”

“When did you move to Texas?”

“About fifteen years ago.”

“So the same time my life fell apart.”

Hazel twisted toward him and removed his hat from his head. “You’ve put it back together nicely.”

He ran both hands through his hair and nodded a couple of times. “Go on.”

“So I came here and I had a salon in my home. There’s a utility room off the back entrance.” Hazel’s hands started to shake, as she suspected they would. At least her coffee was safe on the floor.

“I met a man,” she said, instantly sobering, and wishing her lungs and voice didn’t tremble quite so much. “We fell madly in love, and got engaged. Everything was perfect. The wedding was only three months away.”

Dylan calmed her hands by covering them with his. “Deep breath,” he coached, and Hazel pulled in air through her nose, praying for help to get through this story.

I like this man, Lord, she thought. Please help me get through this.

“I had just finished with a client one day when he showed up at my house.” Hazel felt removed from her body, like her past self was reliving the situation while this future self talked about it.

“He said he couldn’t go through with the wedding.” Her emotion prevented her from continuing, and she couldn’t believe Peter still had this power over her, six years later. That alone angered her to the point of tears. She sniffed and wiped her face, nestling her hand back in his with a quick smile that wasn’t an indication of her happiness.

“It’s silly, I know.”

“It’s obviously not,” he said, watching her with those blue, blue, blue eyes. “He was obviously very important to you, and he’s obviously still capable of making you cry.” He lifted his hand to her face and ran it lovingly down her cheek.

She leaned into his touch as he whispered, “I don’t like him. I don’t like that he can make someone as witty, charming, and beautiful as you cry.”

“I’m not really crying over him,” Hazel said. “I promise, I’m not. I’m angry that I’ve let him have this affect on me for so long.”

“How long?”

“It’s been six years now. I only used the salon as much as necessary to put myself through college. I’ve been working for Texas Parks and Wildlife for three years now.”

“What’s his name?”

“Peter.”

Dylan’s eyes narrowed for a moment, and he said, “I need a haircut. Would you do it?”

Hazel gave a short laugh and nodded. “Yeah, sure.” She leaned into his chest, and he lifted one arm and put it around her shoulders. His other hand kept both of hers occupied as he ran his fingertips up and down her fingers, palms, and wrists.

“There’s more,” he whispered into her hair. “I’ve been dumped before. This is more than that.”

Hazel swallowed and forced herself to say, “When I asked him why he couldn’t marry me after eighteen months of dating and a year of our engagement, he said he couldn’t be with a stylist. That someone like him—he was a banker—was expected to marry higher than someone who ‘just cuts hair’.”

Dylan nodded as another angry tear leaked down Hazel’s face. “So you became someone else.”

“I tried.”

“You said you loved your job.”

“I do, yes.”

“Did you try to get Peter back after you graduated college?”

Hazel wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t. “He wasn’t interested. Had been dating someone else for a couple of years. I don’t think they ever got married.” As soon as Hazel said it, a flash of light illuminated her mind. “He’ll never get married, will he?”

“He doesn’t seem like the type to settle down, no.” Dylan played with the ends of her hair which fell over her shoulder. “I mean, I don’t know the guy. But if I found a woman I was madly in love with, I wouldn’t be engaged for over a year. You know?”

Hazel knew now. With the candles flickering and the warmth of Dylan’s body next to hers, Hazel finally calmed completely.

“And I can help you get your salon up and running again, if that’s what you want.”

She exhaled, sinking deeper into him. “I don’t know what I want.”

“Fair enough. I want a German shepherd. I think my life will drastically improve with a German shepherd.”

Hazel grinned, glad he’d taken this moment and made it light again. “We’ll get you one,” she promised.

When his chest lifted and rose in an even rhythm, she slipped from beneath his arm and perched on the edge of the couch, twisting to watch him sleep. He was a gentle giant of a cowboy, even without his hat, which still lay discarded on the couch where she’d set it after removing it.

She stretched across him and trailed her fingers along his forehead, whispering, “I’ve never told anyone about Peter.”

He didn’t twitch or otherwise respond, and Hazel added, “Thank you for listening, and not judging me.”

She rose from the couch, sending a prayer of gratitude to God too that she’d been able to tell the story at all. She didn’t feel tired, but she did feel dusty, so she decided to get in the shower before bed. The hot water helped center her even further, and she wrapped herself tightly in a towel, peeking out the door to make sure Dylan was still asleep before she tiptoed around the doorjambs and into her bedroom.

He wasn’t on the couch. She couldn’t see him anywhere in the main room, so she flung the door open and hurried from bathroom to bedroom and shut the door behind her. Dressed in her pajamas and with slightly damp hair, she went to get one of the last chocolate chip cookies. She and Dylan had rationed them throughout the week, keeping them in the refrigerator to keep them as fresh as possible.

They each had one left, and she’d planned to eat hers in the morning for breakfast.

Two steps outside of her bedroom, she caught sight of Dylan’s broad shoulders as he sat at the bar. “What are y’all doin’ up?” she asked as she padded toward him in bare feet. “I thought you went to bed.”

He turned toward her, half a cookie remaining in his hand. She tipped her head back and laughed, completely eradicating the confessions and awkwardness that had settled in the cabin since her story.

“I was just coming to get my cookie.” She stopped next to him, nudging him with her hip. “Did you eat mine too?”

“’Course not,” he said around a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie. He swallowed. “It’s in the fridge.” His eyes felt like two-ton weights as they followed her around the peninsula and into the kitchen. “You showered?”

“Was feeling a little dusty. A little on-edge.” She ignored the leftover coffee in the pot and reached for the fridge. “The hot water helped both of those.” With her cookie in hand, she joined him at the bar.

“We’re sleeping in tomorrow, right?” he asked.

“Do you actually know how to sleep in?”

“Sure.”

“Then, yes.” She yawned before taking her first bite of cookie. “Let’s sleep in tomorrow. What time do they expect you back?”

“No one expects me back,” he said. “I show up when I want. What about you?”

“I won’t go back to the office until Monday.” She grinned at him, the chocolate making her feel even more like herself. “Thanks for listening to me tonight,” she said. “I’ve never told anyone about Peter before.”

“I know.” He glanced away. “I heard you.”

Her stomach dropped to her feet and rebounded again, a little higher than before. “Oh, I see how it is. Feigning sleep so you could eavesdrop on me.”

“I had no idea you talked to yourself so much.” He chuckled. “I’m just a light sleeper. My mom used to lecture me about it. Play the piano a half an hour after I went to bed, trying to teach me to sleep through noise and touch. She failed, obviously.” He flashed her a grin, and Hazel’s worry about what he’d heard vanished.

She hadn’t said anything she didn’t want him to know. Anything she hadn’t just revealed to him. She finished her cookie, and still they sat at the bar. He stood and stretched, the scent of his skin and his fabric softener making her light-headed.

“Well, good-night.” He started across the cabin toward his bedroom, and Hazel pressed her eyes closed. She really didn’t want this day to end without kissing him.

Then do something about it.

It was something she’d told herself after Peter had left and she hadn’t known what to do. Don’t want to be a stylist? Do something about it.

“Dylan?” She jumped to her feet and turned around, catching him just as he reached his bedroom door.

With his hand on the doorknob, he twisted. “Yeah?”

Hazel didn’t hesitate and she didn’t question what she wanted. She walked toward him, the shakes returning to her fingers. “I wanted—” She had no idea how to finish that sentence without sounding needy, or psychotic.

His eyebrows quirked as she reached him and slid both hands up his chest. She tipped up onto her toes, stopping just the right distance away for him to know what she wanted without demanding it. Plus, she wanted him to kiss her.

He hadn’t said as much, but Hazel had gotten the impression he didn’t date a whole lot. But he still knew where to put his hands to steady her—right along her waist, with gentle pressure along her back.

He still knew how to dip his head and brush his lips across hers, just for a taste. He knew how to knead her closer, growl deep in the back of his throat, and kiss her like he meant it. He knew how, and he did it all spectacularly.