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I’ve forgotten all about playing it safe. Keeping this cowboy out of my heart. And I think he has too.

“I do hope you’re thinking about staying after summer’s over.” Her voice is low and hopeful.

“We’ll have to see.” I smile softly, then stand. “I have to go and feed the cows.”

“Of course, dear.” She grins, and I nod, grab my things, and hurry off.

I rush over to the ranch, spend a blissful hour feeding the cows and brushing Waffle before I head to Cole’s house. The sun sets in a soft glow, and I understand why Montana’s the most beautiful place on earth. Why the Westons have fought for their land and for their whiskey.

I climb the old wooden porch steps and enter, hoping to find Cole, but despite his truck being in the drive, the house is empty.

“Cole?” My voice echoes down the hall.

I check the master bedroom and freeze when I pass by the bathroom. On the lip of the massive copper tub hangs a fluffy white bath towel. On the floor, a bottle of bubbles, a bottle of bath oil, a loofah, a magazine, and a pretty mix of saltwater taffy from the candy store.

My heart tumbles. I step closer.

No note. But I don’t need one. The invitation’s clear.

I’m dusty and sweaty, and a bath sounds like heaven.

I strip out of my ranch clothes and fill the tub with hot water, bath oil, and bubbles. I turn on the record player in the living room, Johnny Cash’s warble filling the house. Then I let out a sigh as I sink beneath the water and chew a piece of taffy.

Oh god, I’m stupidly happy.

Cole’s words from last week run through my head. I want every part of you. I want you here with me.

I want that too.

For the first time in years, it feels like I have a home. Like maybe, just maybe, I don’t have to pack another suitcase and put more miles on that lonely road of life. I don’t want to dance for strange men anymore. I only want to dance for Cole. He’s the only one I want to see my body.

But what are we? Do I dare ask, hope, wish?

Worrying about it seems stupid. Especially with this threat hanging over all of us.

I sigh and sink lower in the water, watching as my locket shimmers and bobs beneath the bubbles. I close my eyes, tilting my head back, feeling the steam roll off the surface of the water. Before long, bootsteps. The changeover of the record, and then—

“You look like a damn goddess.”

I open my eyes at the gruff growl. Cole stands in the doorway, bottle of whiskey in his hands. “Just washing away the day, cowboy.”

He crosses the room to the tub, kneeling beside it. He removes his hat, sets it on the floor as his eyes take in my naked body. His scent drifts, sweat and oak and whiskey.

“Thank you for all of this.” I place a hand over his, which curls around the lip of the tub, bubbles cascading over our fingers.

His throat works. “Saw it in town. Thought you’d like it.” He dips a hand in the perfumed water, finding my thighs and following the curve of them up to tease the side of my clit.

I gasp, eyes fluttering shut as my head tilts back. “I do like it.”

His hand roams beneath the water to slide up my torso, where he sweeps a calloused thumb over one of my nipples, cresting above the water. “Sure feels nice and warm in there.”

I crack an eye. “Have you ever had a bath, cowboy?”

“Reckon I haven’t.” He gives me a rare Cole Weston grin.

“Even with this great big, beautiful bathtub? Such a waste.”

“That’s what you’re here for. To use it all you like.”