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“You’re a good cook,” I say. “Thanks for dinner.”

She smiles. “You’ll eat in the house with us. I promise, you don’t want to eat out with the wranglers.”

“Am I staying here, in the house?”

She shrugs. “You can, but we do have a little guesthouse out back. It’s really nice. I cleaned it the other day, put fresh sheets out.”

“That’s perfect.”

More silence. She taps her fingers on the table. My eyes drift up her body to her face. She seems pretty young to be a ranch manager, but maybe she’s just got a young face. Who knows. I don’t want to ask her age; that seems rude.

“Is that all you brought?” She points at my carry-on.

“Yeah, Jamie didn’t want me to take my music shit. I’m supposed to be on a break.”

At the mention of my job, she shifts awkwardly, her round eyes fixing on me.

“Honestly, don’t get offended by this, but I don’t really know much about your work,” she says. “I listen to more folk, like Americana, than country music.”

My hand goes still. I clear my throat.

“That’s what I used to write, actually,” I say.

Her face lights up. “Really?”

“Yeah, I got my start writing folk songs for a couple bands. None of them are still going, but it was great.”

She pulls out a stool and sits. “So you switched to country? Did you like that better?”

“Honestly?” I say. “It pays better.”

I expect her to judge me, but she just nods. “I get that.”

We’re both quiet again while I eat until the plate is empty. I can tell she’s pleased I liked her cooking, and I'm oddly happy she’s happy. Standing, she goes to rinse her glass.

“So, are you running this place all on your own?” I ask.

She turns, crossing her arms and leaning on the sink. “My dad owns the ranch, but he retired last year because of a couple different things, nerve damage from working so hard and age. So it’s just me running things. I mean, my sister helps a lot, and we have fifteen wranglers.”

I’m impressed.

“I can give a hand,” I say.

Her brows arch skeptically. I smile, getting up.

“I was raised on a ranch, used to do the whole cowboy thing until I went to Nashville,” I say. “I know my way around one.”

“Really?”

“Really, really.”

We both smile, and some of the awkwardness melts. God, she is pretty. But I promised Jamie I wouldn’t sleep around out here. No, I’m supposed to be detoxing from everything. It’s kind of rough that the ranch manager turned out to be one of the prettiest women I’ve ever seen, with huge fucking cartoon eyes she keeps fixing on me like I’m the only person in the world. Maybe that’s just the loneliness in me talking.

I don’t know.

But I should go to bed.

“You want me to show you the guesthouse?” she asks.