“Like on adate?” she asks.
I roll my eyes. Dating feels like a strange concept at this point. I’m not ancient, but being out of the game as long as I have makes the whole thing feel unfamiliar.
“I mean, if you wanna call it that,” I reply.
She shakes her head. “What?”
She sighs, stepping closer, her hands settling on my upper thighs. “Gage Hollis,” she says, amused, “still can’t admit he wants to take me out even after everything.”
I open my mouth to argue, but she beats me to it.
“Just say you want to take me out,” she murmurs, leaning in. “Show me off.”
Her voice drops to a whisper, her lips barely brushing mine.
“Keep talkin’ like that,” I warn, “and we won’t make it past the ranch gate.”
She laughs, presses a quick kiss to my mouth, and steps away. I reach out and smack her backside as she walks off.
“Hey!” she scolds over her shoulder. “At least buy me dinner first.”
I laugh and catch up to her, wrapping my arms around her and kissing her cheek. “Yes, ma’am.”
We head inside to get ready, and it hits me then—how rare this feeling is.
I can’t remember the last time I was this excited to leave the ranch.
Bell River isn’t exactly overflowing with date-night options. We’ve got a bar, a café, and a whole lot of land. Folks make do. Nothing fancy.
And somehow, that makes it perfect.
I take Sloane to Daisy’s, and the place is packed with late-night townsfolk. When we step inside, the bell over the door ringing sharp and bright, conversation stalls as heads turn our way.
It’s rare for me to be spotted anywhere near the town limits unless it’s ranch related. Sloane’s been popping up around Bell River lately, sure—but I wouldn’t have thought she’d made much of an impression yet.
“Well, look what came sneakin’ out of the pasture,” Daisy calls from behind the counter as she pours Jerry another rancher’s coffee. “Don’t be shy, you two. Find yourselves a seat.”
We scan the room for an open booth. The café keeps watching, curious but not unkind. I feel Sloane tense beside me, so I reach out and take her hand. She smiles, shoulders easing as our fingers lace together.
Daisy swings by and drops menus onto the table, her eyes flicking pointedly to our joined hands. She grins.
“Don’t start makin’ noise now, Miss Daisy,” I warn.
She laughs. “I run a café in a town this size. Bein’ nosy is half my job.”
Sloane laughs, and I shake my head.
“Miss Carter,” Daisy says, already turning to her pad, “your usual, or we switchin’ it up for dinner?”
I glance between them.Usual?
Sloane doesn’t even hesitate. “Breakfast for dinner actually sounds perfect.”
Daisy winks at her and disappears toward the kitchen.
I order my food, still a little stunned by how easily Sloane fits here—how naturally she’s being folded into the place. The thought settles heavy in my chest.
In just a few months, this all ends. She goes back to Austin.
