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He only grunts and drops a kiss to my bare shoulder. In the past week, we’ve barely been able to keep our hands off each other. It’s been different since I told him the truth about why I’m here.

Cole’s a protective man by nature, but I can tell he’s keeping me closer. Any excuse he can find to pop into the tasting room, or my Creek House, he’s there.

I adore it.

I adore this man.

I adore this town. As strange as it is, Tempest’s become a source of comfort for me. Beautiful. Dangerous. Surreal. And dare I say, home?

Banners line the streets gearing up for the Fourth of July parade and the rodeo that follows. The town’s blend of cowboys, off-the-gridders, hunters, and hippies never fails to make me smile. There are still so many facets of it I haven’t explored, but I plan to.

Ever since I left Las Vegas, I’ve had it in the back of my mind that, eventually, I’ll have to pack another bag and leave. But what if I don’t go? What if I keep Tempest?

And Cole?

“How’d you make out?” he asks as we walk back to his truck. With both of us needing to tackle errands—the ranch for Cole, the launch party for me—we split briefly for the day to finish our own tasks.

“Great. I—”

“Delilah!”

I glance over my shoulder. Headed toward me is the owner of the café, Harper Brown. She smells like fries and apple pie. She holds out my left-behind notepad. “You forgot this.”

“Oh, thanks.” I return it to my bag.

“No, thank you.” Harper squeezes my arm. “We can’t wait.”

“I’m glad you’re excited. I am too.” Harper and I met at my Tuesday night needlepoint class. She’s one of the few Tempest locals who wasn’t new-girl-in-town resistant.

“Well, you got free pie on the house. Whenever you want it.” Harper’s gaze lifts. “You too, Cole. See you Tuesday, Del.”

“What was all that about?” Cole asks as she disappears around the corner.

“I hired the café to cater the launch party. Nothing fancy. Burgers. Hot dogs. But I thought I’d keep it local.” I arch a brow. “Ezra gave me a budget.”

A deep chuckle rumbles out of him. “He did, did he?”

“He did.” I lift a hand to return a wave from Opal Meyers, who runs the bookstore across the street. “And I intend to blow it all.”

“Good. You should.”

I steal a quick look at him. “Want to hear some more good news?” At the lift of his dark brows, I go on. “The Whiskey Enquirer emailed me back.” It was an idea born on a hope and a prayer, how to give the Westons’ limited-edition whiskey the attention it deserves. “They want to send someone out to cover the launch.” I bite my lip as Cole stares at me. “They’re still finalizing details, but I think it’s going to happen.”

Tilting his cowboy hat up, letting me see his eyes as they crinkle, he says, “You’re doing a good job at the distillery, Delilah. We all appreciate it. Think the town does too.”

My heartbeat tumbles in happiness. Cole’s words mean everything.

He glances over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at the alleyway behind him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Not sure yet.” He runs a hand down my arm. Moves around me to pop open the passenger side door of his truck. “Ready to head back?”

“Yes.” I lean across the passenger seat, setting my coffee in the cup holder before I climb in. When I pull back, my gaze lights on the dance studio across the street.

“You miss it?” Cole’s voice is warm against my ear. “Dancing?”

I nod. “I haven’t danced in so long. I’m getting rusty.”