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He growls, a fierce frown darkening his handsome face. “Delilah.”

I giggle. “Fooled you.”

He moves closer, trying to keep that grumpy scowl on his face when I can tell all he wants to do is smile. “Dinner?”

“Yes, dinner.”

It’s been two weeks since our tryst in the tasting room. And ever since that night, it’s become our ritual. After work, me, Cole, dinner, and whiskey. Which eventually leads to sex and spending the night. Then, mornings, black coffee and breakfast. We’ve spent nearly every second together. There isn’t an inch of his chiseled body I haven’t touched, tasted.

Our bodies pressed together this morning. Cole slipping into me, groaning as he found me already wet. “Pretty darlin’,” he whispered as he kissed me senseless and rocked his cock inside of me. “You feel so good, so perfect.”

Every day I spend at the ranch makes it feel like all my problems are behind me.

It’s easy to talk to Cole. When I first met him, I thought him emotionless and cold, but he’s anything but. He doesn’t make me feel judged. For such a big grumpy man, he’s gentle with me.

I told him about my sister. One of the first people I’ve ever opened up to about that awful time in my life. Foolish, maybe, but it was easy to talk to him. If I can trust him with that…

Cole presses closer, his husky voice sending a shiver down my spine. “Can’t damn wait.”

I smile. Clearly, I’m not the only one enjoying our time together.

“Question.” Wells flicks a brow at Cole. “Do you raise barrels anymore or are you planning to hang around our bartender all day?”

Cole elbows his brother out of the way. “Mind your business,” he growls. He removes his hand from the small of my back and steps away from the bar.

As he goes, he gives me that hat tilt I love. A sweet gesture that means everything to me.

I blush, my cheeks heating in response.

Sex. Just sex, I remind myself.

If it’s anything more, we haven’t named it.

Which is fine with me. I have always loved too easy. Too free. I think of Melly, still missing. My sister. I can’t take losing someone else again.

We have boundaries. We’re having fun. Nothing more, nothing less.

One thing’s for certain. I’ve failed miserably at my goal of staying out of this man’s life.

Cole Weston can’t matter to me. This town can’t matter. Because sooner or later, I’ll have to pack a bag and walk away. It’s how it’s always been. Good things don’t stay.

I mix my drinks, lifting a hand to Cy and Leon, who’ve just arrived for their shift, then make my rounds around the tasting room. In addition to the tourists, the locals are out in droves.

I drop off a fresh round of drinks at a rowdy table, where a group of leather jacket–clad bikers sit. “There she is.” A man I know as Syd, River’s friend, eyes the tray of shots with appreciation. “The woman of my dreams.”

“I’m only in your dreams because I come bearing whiskey,” I tease lightly and dole out the shots.

Another biker, rings on every one of his fingers, cleans his nails with a pocketknife. Only the slight arch of his brow tells me he’s amused.

“Gotta go, boys.” I flip my hair over my shoulder and move on.

“Hey, there, gentlemen.” My next table, unlike the last, is a table filled with unthreatening old men. They hold unlit cigars and work their whiskeys and crossword puzzles. “Can I get you anything?” Amid the mumbles, I glance at Swanny Jessup. Owner of the Ranch Supply Co. in town, he rented me the tables for the launch party at a discounted rate. “Whiskey neat for you, right? Nothing too sweet when you’re already filled with enough sugar.”

He flushes and guffaws. “You got a lot of sass, young lady.” Pink stains his cheeks.

I smile. I may not be able to win over everyone in Tempest, but this group of grumpy gentlemen is a start.

A man at a high-top cranes his neck and bangs his fist. “Hey, waitress. We’re here for drinks. Not your chitchat.”