It was almost hot in Eagle’s Ridge at the end of June. Paige was wishing she hadn’t worn boots. Flip-flops would have been more appropriate. But it had been cool on the mountain this morning, so she’d dressed accordingly. It would have definitely been cool in Seattle. In fact, she’d checked her weather app and found it was raining.

Of course it was.

But here it was sunny, even if clouds threatened to turn the day to rain. They’d drifted in a couple of hours ago, right about the time Paige and Wyatt had arrived at his grandmother’s house.

She liked Mary Beth. The woman was smart, sharp, and unwilling to give an inch. She wasn’t like any grandmother Paige had ever known. In her circles, a seventy-eight-year-old woman would have had enough plastic surgery to make her look like a wax-museum replica of herself.

Mary Beth didn’t look a day over sixty, but none of it was due to surgery. It was probably due to the horse Wyatt didn’t like. And maybe the fact she cut her own grass.

Whatever the reasons, Paige thought Mary Beth was cool.

After they’d eaten cookies and talked about horses and cooking, Wyatt said it was time to go. Mary Beth had packed up a dozen cookies to go with them, and they’d walked out into the afternoon heat and climbed into the truck. He’d asked Mary Beth to go to lunch with them, but she’d refused.

“I’m hosting a canasta game at three. I have to get ready.”

They’d said goodbye, and now they were making their way back through the neighborhoods of Eagle’s Ridge. It was a cute town, but not the kind of place Paige could ever live. It wasn’t vibrant. There were no clubs, no coffee shops—well, one coffee shop—and no designer boutiques. To live with that day in and day out? She had no idea how people did it.

Not to mention, the restaurant situation was dire. So dire that Wyatt pulled into a parking lot on the bridge and turned the key. “No Man’s Land is the best diner in town,” he told her. “We can get a bite to eat and then get your socks.”

“Sounds great.”

Paige gaped at the worn old building and figured there were no little cafes with three-Michelin-starred chefs hanging about. Probably no tablecloths or wineglasses in this place either. Not that those things made the food taste better, but they definitely made for a relaxing dining experience.

“Wyatt, how you doing, sweetie?” an older woman asked as they walked inside.

“Hi, Brenda,” Wyatt said, returning the hug she gave him.

Brenda gave Paige the once-over. It was a friendly perusal. “Been hiding your girlfriend from us, Wyatt?”

Clearly, Hildie Fontana had been burning up the lines of communication in Eagle’s Ridge for the past couple of hours.

“This is Nicole,” Wyatt said. “We’re talking about renewing our relationship. No guarantees.”

“Hi,” Paige said, shaking Brenda’s hand.

“Well, darlin’, you sure are a pretty thing. You two come on over here and have a seat by the window.”

She led them to a booth that looked out on the river. It was a lovely view, even if there were no tablecloths. Brenda handed them two plastic menus.

“Do you know what you’d like to drink?”

Paige smiled. “What kind of white wine do you have?”

Brenda shook her head. “Oh honey, no alcohol in No Man’s Land. Never has been.”

Paige glanced at Wyatt for an explanation. No wine? Was this town dry or something?

“Eagle’s Ridge was founded by four men. Two of them had a falling out and stopped speaking to each other. They lived on opposite sides of the river, so this spot became a sort of DMZ—demilitarized zone—where no arguments were allowed. It’s much easier to prevent arguments when there’s no alcohol. So there isn’t, and never will be. Right, Brenda?”

“That’s about the size of it. Though the Westbrooks and Tuckers have made up now, haven’t they?”

Wyatt nodded. “Yep.” He turned to Paige. “Ryder Westbrook and Bailey Tucker fell in love about three months ago. The feud is officially at an end.”

“Wow. Only took, what, fifty-some-odd years?”

“More like sixty-five,” Brenda said. “Been going on for a long time.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have water with a lemon,” Paige said, deciding that asking for sparkling water was probably not a good idea.

“Water,” Wyatt said.

Brenda walked away and Paige studied the menu.

“Confused?” Wyatt asked.

“A little. HALO pancakes drowned in rocket fuel?”

“Just pancakes and syrup. You in the mood for breakfast or lunch?”

“Lunch.”

“If you like hamburgers, give the Bunker Buster a try. Bailey Tucker is a chef and she came up with a variation on the usual. There’s smoked cheddar, avocado, and garlic aioli on that one. It’s really good.”

“Bunker Buster? Sounds terrifying.”

Wyatt snorted. “Sam—that’s Bailey’s dad—insists on the military names. It’s just part of the tradition.”

“This town is… surprising,” she said. “I feel like I’m in a military museum.”

“Not your style, huh?”

Paige lowered her gaze, studying the menu again. “I appreciate the military and what they do. But I don’t understand all the terms. I feel a little lost, if I’m honest.”

“Eagle’s Ridge is a popular tourist attraction. Partly because of our military traditions, and partly because we have great outdoor activities. It’s high season at A To Z Watersports. My friends Adam and Zane can barely keep up with demand. We also have a huge celebration coming up for the July Fourth weekend. There’s a parade, a carnival, and a fireworks display. Not quite worthy of Washington DC—but damn close.”

Paige felt an unfamiliar twang strum against her heart. It took her a moment to realize it was envy. It wasn’t that she suddenly liked small towns or wanted to uproot her life and quote—find herself—unquote in the pristine beauty of Eagle’s Ridge. No, the envy had to do with belonging. Wyatt belonged here. No matter where he went in life, what he did, this place was waiting for him.

She didn’t have that. She had a father who’d married a much younger woman and started acting like an idiot and a mother who’d moved to Europe with her artist boyfriend. Paige didn’t have that sensation of belonging anywhere. She’d been raised all over, though Seattle probably had the biggest claim on her affection.

But even then, she didn’t have the kind of connection there that Wyatt had here. In fact, since King had started messaging her, she’d felt more disconnected than ever. She’d realized that, aside from Lily Ashwood, she really didn’t have any friends to speak of. Oh, she had people she could call, people who pretended to be besties with her, but that was the money talking, not a true sense of connection and affection.

The moment she couldn’t do something for them, they melted away like snowflakes in the rain.

She set the menu down with a sigh. “It’s too bad you don’t have any upscale dining for the tourists.”

“You don’t like it here?” He looked perplexed. She didn’t bother to point out the military decor and the lack of tablecloths—or wine, for heaven’s sake.

“I’m sure the food is great,” she began. “But sometimes a girl wants baby lettuce with heirloom tomatoes, house-made buttermilk ranch dressing, and deconstructed avocado toast.”

“I’m not going to ask about that last one,” Wyatt said with a frown. “But they’ve got salad here. And Brenda makes her own dressing.”

“Would that be the Fields of France salad and the Eisenhouser dressing?”

Wyatt snorted. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Brenda returned then and Paige ordered the salad with toast and avocado slices on the side. She’d construct her own avocado toast. Wyatt ordered the Bunker Buster.

“We do have an upscale restaurant, by the way,” he said once Brenda was gone. “Bailey opened Blue Moon at the beginning of May. It’s been packed since.”

Paige stared at him over the giant plastic cup of water. “And you brought me here?”

He glanced out the window at the admittedly gorgeous scenery. “You got a problem with No Man’s Land?”

“No, but a glass of wine might be nice. And a tablecloth.”

“Those two things add more than fifty percent to the bill.”

“Yes, but I’m paying, so what does it matter?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Thought it was going on my expense account.”

“For which you get reimbursed.”

He nodded. “True. But I don’t want to make a bad impression on my first assignment.”

“I’m sure it’s expected when I’m your client, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. Doesn’t mean I intend to live like…” He didn’t finish the sentence, picking up the fork and knife folded in a paper napkin instead. He broke the seal and smoothed out the napkin with the silverware cradled inside.

“Like a king?” she finished for him.

“Poor choice of words.”

She shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s a ridiculous made-up name. I refuse to be intimidated by it. So he thinks he’s my king? No, I don’t accept that.”

Her words were brave, but whoever this guy was, he had rattled her. The photo proved he knew where to find her. He wasn’t just a random crank who watched the show. He’d sent her vague threats in the past that had unnerved her—but the photo, and bringing her cat into it, took the threats to a whole new level of crazy. She was definitely intimidated. She didn’t plan to admit it though.

“Thanks for changing the subject back there, by the way,” Wyatt said.

It took Paige a minute to realize what he was talking about. “The cookie recipe? You’re welcome.”

“I was in big trouble there. You saved me.”

Paige couldn’t help but smile. “Your grandmother is a fascinating woman.”

“She’s stubborn.”

“And you aren’t?”

He turned his head for a second, gazing at the river rushing by below. “Maybe I am.”

“Maybe so.”

He met her gaze again. “I’m sorry about Hildie. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

She tried not to feel disappointment. He wasn’t saying kissing her was bad. Just that he shouldn’t have done so. Well, maybe he shouldn’t have. Maybe she shouldn’t have kissed him back.

Too late. That cat was out of the bag.

“I liked it,” she said, dropping her gaze at the last moment because she couldn’t seem to look at him and admit it at the same time.

“So did I.”

Her heart soared.

“But it can’t happen again,” he continued, and her spirits deflated like a punctured balloon. “I have to protect you. I can’t let it get personal between us. Mistakes happen when it gets personal, and I won’t take that chance.”

“It’s okay, I understand.”

But she didn’t. Not at all.