WE ENDED UP ON THEcouch by the window, wrapped in robes, the first gray light of Sunday morning creeping through the curtains. Dixie talked and I listened.
She told me about Houston. About the boyfriend who'd seemed so charming at first — rich, handsome, always knowing where the best parties were. She told me about the drugs. About how it started slow, just fun at first, until it wasn't fun anymore and she couldn't stop. About the night she found out she was pregnant and realized she had a choice: keep spiraling, or fight like hell to become someone her baby could be proud of.
"He left," she said, staring at her hands. "The second I told him I was keeping her and getting clean, he was gone. Denied he was the father. Cut me off completely."
My jaw tightened. "What's his name?"
"Doesn't matter. He's not part of our lives." She finally glanced up. "I came back to Bitter Root with nothing. Pregnant, broke, terrified. My mom took me in without a single question. Helped me get clean. Held my hand when Daisy was born."
"Della," I said, remembering. "She runs the daycare."
"She watches Daisy while I work. During the day when I'm at the diner, and overnight when I drive for the rideshare." Dixie's voice went hard. "I pay my own way. Rent, utilities, everything. I won't be a burden on anyone. Not anymore."
"You're not a burden." The words came out rough. "You're the strongest person I've ever met."
She was already shaking her head. "I'm a recovering addict with a toddler and two jobs and more baggage than a luggage carousel. You didn't sign up for this, Hunter. You hired me to be your fake date for a weekend. Not to—"
"I didn't hire you." I moved closer on the couch, taking her hands in mine. "Not really. I made a drunk proposition to my Uber driver—who just happened to be the gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen—and somehow got the luckiest break of my life."
"This isn't lucky. This is complicated."
"So what?" I held her gaze. "You think my life isn't complicated? You've met my family. You've seen how my mother looks at me — like I'm a perpetual disappointment she's just waiting to fix."
"Hunter—"
"No, let me finish." I took a breath. "I've spent my whole life comparing myself to Hudson. Measuring every achievement against his, every failure doubled because he would never screw up that way. I convinced myself my family thought I was worthless, that they saw me as the lesser twin." I paused. "But you know what I realized last night, watching Hudson give his speech?"
She waited.
"He said I was the charming one. The one everyone gravitates toward." I shook my head. "All this time, I thought he was the golden child and I was the disappointment. But maybe I've been the one doing the comparing. Maybe my family's been waiting for me to show up and be the man they always knew I could be, and I've been too busy feeling sorry for myself to notice."
Dixie's eyes searched my face. "That's a big realization."
"Yeah, well." I managed a half-smile. "Apparently sleeping with the right woman knocks some sense into a guy."
She didn't smile back. "Hunter, I have a daughter. A three-year-old who needs stability, not some wealthy cowboy who might get bored and—"
"I'm not going to get bored."
"You don't know that."
"I know that I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since Wednesday night." I squeezed her hands. "I know that watching you work on that cake yesterday was the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I know that right now, sitting here with you telling me the worst parts of your story, all I can think about is how badly I want to meet your daughter."
Her breath caught. "You want to meet Daisy?"
"I want to meet the little girl who made you strong enough to rebuild your entire life." I lifted her hands to my lips, pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "I want to be part of whatever comes next. Not as a business arrangement. For real."
Her eyes went glassy. "Hunter..."
"I know it's fast. I know we barely know each other. But I've done the slow thing. I've done the casual thing, the no-strings thing, the 'let's keep it simple' thing. It's never meant anything." I met her gaze. "This means something. You mean something."
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, a watery laugh escaping. "You're really not running?"
"Running's never been my style. Too much cardio."
That got a real laugh out of her. She pulled me into a kiss — soft at first, tasting salt, then deeper when she wound her arms around my neck. The robe fell open and I groaned against her mouth, my hands finding warm skin.
"We should probably—" she started.
