Colt pulled up to Rose’s house and got out, unsure what to expect. He’d gone home for a couple of hours, all the time wondering what Rose’s intentions were.

Did she think they were friends? Two friends, just having a beer after a long day. Or was this more like a date?

Did she expect her drinks to be paid for?

In the end, he’d decided to offer to pay once, see how his proposal went over. If she spurned the idea, it wasn’t a date.

But he did shower before he changed, just in case it was a date.

Rose appeared at her doorway, then came out to the gate. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said, trying really hard not to look her up and down, and failing. She wore a light blue sundress and cowboy boots, her hair combed into a loose side braid.

“You look nice,” he said carefully.

“Um, thanks,” she said, looking down as if just now noticing that she had clothes on. “You too.”

“Thanks.” He was just wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans, but he’d take what he could get.

He gestured toward the bar. “Should we go?”

“Yeah, I would hate for The Speckled Hen to run out of beer before seven thirty,” she joked.

“Well, it’s unlikely, but possible.”

They wandered over to the bar in the the growing twilight, heading in. The place wasn’t much to look at; a row of tables on one side, a stool-lined bar on the other, a big space for line dancing in the middle.

“Is a booth okay?” he said, pointing to one.

“Sure,” she said.

“How about you grab a seat, and I’ll get the drinks?” he asked, stifling the hopeful tone in his voice.

Say yes, he thought.

“Yeah, okay,” she said, walking to one of the booths.

He headed to the bar, trying not to celebrate. Just because she let him buy drinks, that didn’t mean they were anything more than friends.

Right?

Missy walked over, wearing short shorts and a smile on her face. “Heya, stud.”

“Hey. Two beers.”

Missy pulled a face. “That’s no way to talk to a lady whose husband goes out of town tomorrow.”

He looked over his shoulder. Rose was watching his interaction with Missy with interest.

“Uhhh… yeah. I’m here with somebody,” he said. “The new veterinarian.”

Missy’s brows rose. “Oh.”

She spent at least half a minute checking out Rose.

“So… those two beers?” he reminded her.

“Oh… yeah, okay.”

Missy moved over to pour the beers, then set them down in front of him.

“Does this mean we’re over?” she asked.

“I don’t… I mean, you have a husband. We weren’t exclusive.”

“Suit yourself,” she sniffed. “Seven bucks for the beers.”

He paid, tipping lavishly, and then carried the beers back to where Rose sat. He took the seat opposite hers.

“Friendly with the staff?” she said, delicately sipping from her glass.

“Uhhh… something like that.” He took a long draft from his own beer.

“No kidding,” she said, taking another drink. Then another.

Awkward silence ensued. He should make conversation, he realized.

“So… you lived in Baton Rouge while you were in vet school, huh? You support LSU?”

“Um… yeah,” she said. “Go Tigers.”

“Did you like living down there?”

“It was nice,” she said. “Much bigger than my hometown, obviously.”

“More to see, more to do, huh?”

He watched her drink again, two huge sips.

“Thirsty?”

She shrugged. “Maybe I just want to get drunk.”

He didn’t know what to say to that.

“So, tell me about your life,” she said.

“My life?” he asked.

“Yeah, your story.”

“Well. There’s not much to tell.”

“Tell me anyway.”

He considered what to tell her.

“I was born here, obviously. I was raised on a ranch. I’m the youngest of three brothers.” He sucked his teeth, thinking. “The Colonel left when I was probably ten. Not left left, but unofficially moved in with his girlfriend. Mom passed when I was twelve. I lived with my dad for five more years, until I was seventeen and I could get into the Navy.”

“And when did you get out of the Navy?”

He watched her drain her drink. “I’ll go get another round, but… take it easy on this one.”

“This ain’t my first rodeo, cowboy,” she said, giving him a dismissive wave.

He slid out of the booth and went to the bar, noting the much longer wait for drinks this time.

When he got back, he handed her a beer.

“Thanks,” she said. “And don’t think I forgot.”

“Forgot?”

“When did you leave the Navy?”

“Oh. Um, I was medically discharged with full honors about two years ago.”

She took a drink, then sighed, seeming to fortify herself for something.

“I suppose you’ll want my life story now?”

“It only seems fair,” he said, taking a sip of his beer to hide his smile.

“Okay,” she let out a long breath. “I was born in Oklahoma.”

“Oklahoma, huh?” Colt sat back a little bit, this time not even trying to disguise the twitch of his lips. Was she going to make him pull the whole story from her bit by bit?

“Yeah. My mother was a wild child, so I grew up with my grandparents. When I was seven, they died within a few months of each other, so my mom sort of came home to roost. She did that in Sarepta, for some reason. So I grew up here, as the daughter of a shaman. Made me fairly easy to pick on, until my mom started a rumor that she could curse people.”

She laughed at the memory, and he smiled.

“That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, it was.” She smiled softly to herself, remembering. Colt marveled at how the small change in her expression left him slightly dazed, like he’d been staring at the sun longer than was smart. Quick as it came, the smile morphed back into a dubious frown. “She moved to Florida a little over a year ago. Married my stepdad. She likes to call me and tell me how the sunlight is precious, how the… I don’t know, the lizards give her good vibes and stuff.”

“Sounds like the opposite of you,” he said, chuckling.

“Yeah. It’s cool, except when it’s annoying.”

“I get that. Well… actually, my brothers and I barely speak to our father. I’m not as mad at him as Sawyer or Walker, but…” He shrugged. “Brotherhood.”

“Ah,” she said. “I never really had anyone other than my mom. I guess that’s why I find Shelby River so interesting.”

“Shelby?” he said. “I guess she’s interesting. I’ve never really thought about it.”

“She totally is. And those outfits she wears… you know, short skirts and crop tops?” she said, then bit her lip. “Well, you have to have a lot of self-confidence to pull that off.”

Did that mean that Rose lacked-self confidence? Damn, but Colt thought Rose was a hundred times hotter than Shelby. A thousand.

He frowned at his beer. Two drinks almost gone, and here he was already fucking rhapsodizing about Rose’s hotness.

“She looks all right,” he managed. “I prefer someone that shows a little less skin, but that’s just me.”

Rose looked at him as if he’d just given her glowing praise. “Really?”

“Really.” What he meant was, whatever she wore looked amazing. He just needed not to say it, because he was trying not scare her off.

“How about I get this round?” she asked. “Since the bartender seems to have lost interest in you and all.”

He nodded. “Yeah, just… Don’t listen to anything she says about me, all right?”

“Hah!” Rose said, scooting out of the booth. “You wish.”

He tried not to scowl at her while she was at the bar getting drinks. To Missy’s credit, she filled two glasses and sat them down without much conversation.

Rose returned, pushing his drink over to him as she sat down.

“Thank you,” he said. “Are you serious about this getting drunk thing?”

She sat down with a shrug. “Maybe. I don’t know. I haven’t been drunk in…” She paused. “A while.”

“Well… I should be taking advantage, hmm? What questions do I really want to know the answers to?” he asked, pretending to ponder.

She took a gulp of her beer.

“I haven’t had a boyfriend for a year and a half. Haven’t had sex in a while, either.”

He was taking a drink just as she said it. He spat it out onto the table, making her laugh.

“What?” he muttered. “I wasn’t expecting you to say that.” Understatement. That had been the last thing he’d expected to come out of her pretty mouth.

He looked at her. Her laugh had come so easily, too easily, and she was leaning on an elbow...

“You’re tipsy,” he sighed.

“Yep,” she said, almost proud. “Now it’s your turn.”

“My turn to get drunk?”

“No, your turn to divulge your dating secrets.”

He frowned. “I don’t think you’re supposed to demand them.”

“Well, I am.”

He drummed his fingertips on the table, stalling.

“I don’t really have a dating history. About a year ago, I went out half a dozen times with Sarah Manning, this girl who was a cheerleader when we were in high school. It didn’t pan out.”

“No?”

“No. She made it perfectly clear that she was ready to go ring shopping… I called it quits before anything could really happen.”

“Ah. You’re not the type to buy a girl a ring?”

“I’m not rushing toward it, if that’s what you mean.”

She pulled a face. “Shelby says that you’re kind of a dog.”

Oh, she was definitely tipsy. And he was going to be having a little talk with Shelby about her chats with the new vet.

“Is that right?” he said, leaning back in the booth with a grin.

“Yeah. She actually said you’re a good guy, though.”

Okay, so Shelby wasn’t all bad...

“Did she, now? And how, exactly, did the subject of how dateable I am come up?”

Rose blushed. Her blush brought his attention to her mouth, as she bit her lower lip. He envisioned kissing her, biting that lower lip, evoking passionate sighs from her…

“—me home?” she asked.

“What?” he said, shaking his head to clear the fantasy.

“I’ve had a bit too much to drink. Do you want to walk me home?”

She looked nervous, as if he was going to say no.

“Oh. Sure,” he said, rising from the table as she did.

He didn’t think for one second that she actually needed help home, she hadn’t had that much. He walked her outside; he could see her house from where he stood.

He walked with her across the street in silence. She shuffled her feet once she got to her doorway, clearing her throat.

“Umm, so…” she said, looking down at the ground.

She wants me to make a move, he realized.

Not one to dawdle with these matters, he stepped closer, cupping her jaw in his hand, and pressed his lips to hers. She was soft and sweet, tasting like cinnamon.

In a second he was hard for her, aching to taste more. Wanting to hear her moan, just like he’d imagined she would.

The second that he moved closer, to box her in against her own door, she pushed him away. He took a step back, confused.

“I… I’m sorry,” she said, looking away.

“I don’t understand,” he said, scanning her face, trying to get a read on the situation. “Did I do something?”

“I’m… I’m not normal. It’s my fault,” she said, tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

With that she turned and unlocked her door, hands shaking as she worked. Once she got it open, she vanished inside, without so much as looking back at him.

Leaving him to walk to his truck alone, not to mention baffled. What exactly had just happened?

And what did she mean when she said she wasn’t normal?

He climbed in his truck and threw it into gear, peeling off into the night.