Heading to the honky-tonk. Save me a seat.
Three dots popped up right away.
Mason:Finally. Thought you’d retired early.
Conner:Get the man a beer. He sounds social.
Hux:Did hell freeze over?
I shoved the phone in my pocket. This wasn’t a date, just a drink with someone who’d had a hell of a morning. Someone gorgeous and funny and unexpectedly tough.
Not a date. Totally. Definitely. Absolutely not a date.
Right?
3
RYLIE
The Wildwood Ridge Roadhouse smelled like fresh paint and new wood. I inhaled and closed my eyes, taking in the scent…
Wait, was that fried onions?
I followed Devon inside—we happened to arrive at the same time—and tried very hard not to look like a woman whose nerves were doing backflips. I had agreed to have drinks with a man I’d met approximately a half-hour ago. A man I had accidentally—and unavoidably—seen in his underwear. A man whose body had imprinted itself on my brain like the world’s most inappropriate background wallpaper.
What was I even doing?
The place was bigger than I expected. Exposed beams stretched overhead, light bulbs glowed warm and cozy, and the bar gleamed like someone spent way too much time polishing it. A small stage sat empty in the corner, undoubtedly waiting for some guy with a guitar and deep emotional baggage.
“Devon,” a voice shouted from across the room.
A group of men sat at a big table near the back—his crew. Big, loud, flannel-wearing firefighter types who probably chopped wood recreationally.
Devon lifted a hand but didn’t make a move toward them. “Want to meet them first, or…”
“Sure.”
I was definitely lying, but survival mode won.
The guys all stood when we walked up—tall, broad shoulders, matching ruggedness like they were part of a catalog calledMountain Men and Minor Emergencies.
"Guys, this is Rylie. She's the vet tech at the new clinic." Devon gestured to each man in turn. "Mason, Conner, Hux."
"The new clinic in the trailer?" Mason asked. "Right next door to us?"
"That's the one," I said.
"Welcome to the neighborhood," Conner said with a grin. "Though I guess we're the new neighbors, technically."
"How's Dr. Hanson doing?" Hux asked. "Haven't met him yet, but heard good things."
"Her," I corrected. "And she's great. Out of town this weekend for a conference."
Mason grinned. “Welcome to the valley.”
A server appeared—Gabby, according to her name tag—bright-eyed and clearly fond of the firefighters. “Another round?” she asked.
“Actually, we’re heading out,” Mason said, already grabbing his jacket.
