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He shakes his head, turning toward the door. “There’s no pleasing you, is there, Princess?”

The double doors swing shut behind him, and I turn back to the muffins to hide my giddy smile.

At two minutes before seven o’clock, I hear the sound of a truck engine out front of my cabin. I grab my purse off the counter and quickly scan myself in the mirror by the door. Cruz hasn’t told me where we’re going, and while I can’t imagine there are a whole lot of fancy places in Cedar Ridge, I still wanted to dress nice.

I’m wearing a little black dress that hits just about mid-thigh and hugs my curves in all the right places. To dress it down just a bit—and also fit the vibe of the town—I’ve paired it with my bright pink cowgirl boots.

I swing the front door open just as Cruz is jogging up the steps. “You’re punctual,” I observe, shutting the door behind me.

Cruz’s gaze sweeps over me, the corner of his lips tugging upward. “And you look cute.”

I feel myself smiling involuntarily. “Thank you.”

He grabs my hand, leading me to the passenger side of his truck where he opens the door for me, helps me in, and then closes it. As I watch him walk around the front of the truck and hop into the driver’s seat, I realize I don’t think I’ve ever had a man open a car door for me.

“Have you spent much time in town since being here?” Cruz asks as we make our way down the dirt road.

“Not really,” I admit. “A few grocery runs with Theresa, but that’s about it.”

“Well, I’m taking you to the coolest spot in town.”

I glance sideways at him. “Am I underdressed? Or … overdressed?”

His gaze slides along my curves again, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it. “You look perfect.”

I smirk, staring out the window.

It doesn’t take long to get into town—maybe about ten or fifteen minutes. The downtown area of Cedar Ridge is small, quaint. The main street is lined with cute shops and restaurants and seems lively for a town of this size.

When Cruz pulls into a parking spot along the main street, I ask, “So where are we going?”

He shoots me a grin and simply hops out of the car, jogging around to get my door for me.

“We’re still playing this game, huh?” I ask.

“Patience, Princess,” he scolds, taking my hand in his big, strong one and guiding me to the sidewalk. We walk a few blocks past shops that are mainly closed, as well as a few restaurants, until stopping in front of an establishment I hadn’t even noticed. I glance up at thesign above the front door, catching the wordsHonky Tonk.

I can’t help but giggle. “You’re kidding.”

Cruz just grins, holding the door open for me, country music wafting out into the street.

Chuckling softly to myself, I enter. The bar is larger inside than it looked, with high-top tables and chairs scattered around the outskirts, with a stage set up against the far wall, a live band playing. And in the middle of the room, highlighted by the deep, low lights, is a dance floor. With people doing a dance that … apparently they all know?

Still in awe at everyone marching in step with one another, I barely notice Cruz grabbing my hand and leading us to an empty table. A server comes by and deposits some menus, asking if we’d like to start with drinks. Cruz orders a beer, and I opt for a Cosmo.

I scan the menu, still glancing sideways at the people on the dance floor. “How do they all just know it?” I ask.

Cruz laughs. “They learn it.”

“It looks complicated.”

“It’s not as hard as it looks.”

The server returns with our drinks and takes our dinner order—burgers and fries for both of us. The live band starts a new song—upbeat and energizing.

I stare across the small table at Cruz, who’s leaning forward on both elbows, his dark cowboy hat cocked slightly to the side. “So, you come here often?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Every once in a while. It’s a common place for a bunch of the ranch staff to hang out after work.” He inclines his head toward the dance floor. “You wanna dance while we wait for our food? I can teach you.”