“Did he know you were dealing?” he asks.

I shake my head. No one knew. I’d just picked up the bag that night. Hadn’t even made a sale yet. I’d just about convinced myself to return it to Bone and then we got busted.

“Why’d you do it?”

I take a deep, cleansing breath. “Matt’s treatment was expensive. I couldn’t think of any other way to help him.”

He nods. It’s a slow up and down movement of his head. He doesn’t look at me or say anything.

“You don’t know what it’s like to know your brother’s going to die and there’s nothing you can f**king do to help him.” I force myself to unclench my fists again.

“No, I don’t,” he admits. “Did you do drugs, too? Or just deal them?”

I snort. “Paul would lay into me like nothing you ever saw if I even thought about doing drugs.”

“I think I like Paul,” he says. He finally looks at me and smiles. “It sounds like you have a pretty good support system for when you go home.” He rubs his hands together quickly. “Five more days!”

I smile. “Five days,” I repeat.

“Can I make a suggestion?” he says.

“Like I could stop you,” I mutter.

He grins. “True.” He pauses for a minute. “Don’t be afraid to make plans, Pete,” he says. “Make lots of plans. Because it’s only when you don’t have any plans that you’ll forget where you’re headed. Write them down. Make them real. Then go for them. Follow through.”

I nod. “Okay.” I look down at the tracking bracelet that’s on my ankle. “While we’re here, am I free? Can I walk around and go places by myself?”

He nods. “I’ll know where you are if I need to find you. But yes, you can consider yourself free.” He coughs into his closed fist. “Just be careful with Reagan,” he warns. He holds up a hand when I start to protest. “You’re twenty-one years old. And you’ve been in jail for two years. And I’m guessing you gave up your V card a long time ago.” He clears his throat. “Just remember that there’s more to it than the pleasure of the moment.”

Now I want to f**k with him. “Do tell, Dr. Phil.”

“Life’s not about the moments of pleasure you, yourself, can experience. It’s about the pleasurable moments you share with someone else that really matter.”

Shit. That was pretty profound. “Yes, sir,” I say.

“What happened to your dad, Pete?” he asks.

“He left after our mom died.”

“He missed out on something pretty f**king great with you, kid,” he says. “He could have stayed and experienced all those missed moments with you and your brothers, and his life would have been richer for it.”

“My life was fine.” I doubt it would have been different if he’d stayed. Paul would have still taken care of us. He always has.

“Moments of pleasure you can give to someone else,” he says, tapping his forehead. “Ask yourself before you do it who’s going to benefit.”

“Yes, sir.”

He points toward the big house. “Speaking of moments,” he says, grinning. “At this moment, someone is sneaking out to the barn.” He squeezes my knee as he gets up. “You’re welcome,” he says with a laugh as he walks away.

I look toward the barn and see a female form walking quickly toward the big building in the distance. I look around. The camp is quiet, and everyone is in bed. I watch her as she slides through an open door and closes it behind her.

I wonder if she could use some company.

Reagan

I try not to look toward the fire as I sneak out to the barn. I know Pete’s still sitting there, and he’s not alone. There are two males in profile, and I don’t know who the second one is. I pat my leg so that my Maggie will follow me. She’s old and can’t see as well as she once did, but I feel safe in the dark with her. She wouldn’t let anyone hurt me, and I love that about her. I don’t have to worry about anyone walking up behind me and me not knowing.

I step into the barn and close the door behind us. Maggie circles around me, her black-and-white coat in strict contrast with the muted colors of the barn. I jump toward her, and she dances back playfully. Even as old as she is, she can still run circles around me.

I step up to the stall door and lean over the cord that’s blocking the opening. I have a horse that’s due to foal any day now. Her name’s Tequila, and she’s my favorite of all my horses.

She’s not lying down or sweating yet, so I’m guessing it’s not going to be tonight that she foals. I duck under the rope that blocks her stall door and rub her gently behind her ears. She pushes her face into my hand, and I laugh.

Suddenly, Maggie stills beside me and the hair at the back of her neck stands straight up. A low growl erupts from her throat, and I stop petting Tequila and step closer to the horse. My heart begins to thud in my chest.

“Hello,” a voice calls. Maggie hunkers down, and her growl grows even more vicious. God, I love this dog. The shadow comes closer, and Maggie barks in warning. “Oh shit,” someone says, and the shadow moves back.

“Who’s there?” I ask.

“It’s Pete,” the voice says.

My shoulders sink, and I force myself to take a deep breath. I don’t let go of Tequila’s halter, and I don’t come out from behind her. “You shouldn’t be in here,” I call.

“Well, I’ll be happy to leave if you’ll call off your beast,” he says. Maggie crouches and slinks forward, and the sounds that come from her throat are scaring even me. “Please,” he says. His voice quivers.

“Mags,” I snap. She turns and looks at me. I pat my leg, and she rushes to me. I pet her soft fur. “Good girl,” I croon. Maggie takes her cues from me, and she’s now wary but she doesn’t want to kill anybody.

“Remind me not to ever walk up on you in the dark again,” Pete says. He wipes his hand across his forehead.

I laugh. “I doubt you’ll need a reminder.” I jerk a thumb toward the bathroom at the end of the barn. “Do you need to go and change your pants?” A grin tugs at my lips. I try to bite it back, but it’s nearly impossible.

Pete looks down at his shorts. “I think I’m good for now.” He bends his knees and squats down close to the floor. He holds out a hand for Maggie to come and sniff. “Now, if she takes off a digit, I’ll be singing a different tune.” He laughs.

Maggie slinks slowly toward him. She’s still wary, but she’s calm. I’m not sure I like the idea of my dog getting friendly with a stranger. “Mags,” I call, and she rushes back to me. “Don’t try to schmooze my dog into liking you,” I warn.

He raises his brow.

“She’s trained to protect me,” I rush to explain. She goes back and forth to my apartment in the city with me, even though I’m sure she likes it more here on the farm. But I need her. In more ways than one.

He nods, leaning against the open stall door. He jams his hands in his pockets. “I saw you and thought you might want some company.”

“I already have company,” I say. I probably sound like a shrew, but we got a little too close by the fire and I’m feeling the effects of it now.

“What’s his name?” he asks, nodding toward my horse.

I smile a completely unbidden smile. “Her name’s Tequila,” I say, scratching my horse affectionately.

Pete steps closer, and Tequila swishes her tail in his face. He brushes it away, spitting as he wipes his mouth. I laugh.

“You haven’t been around horses much, have you?” I ask.

“Can’t say I’ve ever been in a room with one before,” he says, picking at his tongue with his thumb and index finger. He spits again and finally looks satisfied after wiping his mouth with his forearm.

“I got another of your firsts,” I say. I immediately realize my mistake and try to take it back. “I mean—”

But he holds up a hand and grins. “Hey, if I had all my firsts to give you, I would.” His eyes meet mine, and a spark jumps between us.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I’d have liked to have had the choice of who to give mine to. But I didn’t. And that’s over, I remind myself.

“You okay?” he asks, his brow furrowing.

I nod. “Fine.”

I step out from behind Tequila. I still have Maggie between us, and Maggie would never let anything hurt me. Tequila’s low on water, so I grab the hose and fill her up. Pete jumps when I accidentally spray his shoes.

“Sorry,” I say. I really didn’t mean to do that. I bite my lower lip and avoid his gaze.

“A little water never hurt anyone,” he says with a shrug. I think I hear him mutter something that sounds like “I could use a little cooling off,” but that might just be wishful thinking. He grins at me. He’s so damn cute. His eyes are bright blue, I know, but in the low light of the barn, they look almost sapphire. They’re rimmed by dark lashes that are so thick they’re feminine, but there’s nothing girly about him. He’s all man, from the width of his shoulders to the quirk of his grin. He’s about a head taller than I am, but for some reason, I don’t feel intimidated by his size. That’s probably because he hasn’t touched me.

“You should take a picture, princess,” he says with a grin. “It’ll last longer.”

Heat floods my face, and I look away.

“Hey,” he says softly. “I was just kidding.” He steps toward me, his eyebrows drawing together.

I take a deep breath and force my insides to settle. I feel like there’s a Ping-Pong ball in my belly that keeps dropping toward my toes. Humor usually works in these situations, so I try that. “I can’t help it if you’re made to stare at.” I grin.

This time, it’s his face that floods with heat if the color on his cheeks is any indication. “You think I’m pretty,” he says, smiling. He’s all swagger all of a sudden.

“Pretty is not a word I would use to describe you,” I say, laughing.

He leans casually against the stall door again. “Then what would you use?”

“Full of it,” I toss out.

He laughs.

I take another deep breath. “Why are you here?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I thought you might want some company.” His gaze searches mine, and it’s so intense that I have to break away.

“I figured you’d be too worried about your nuts to come around me again,” I tease. Laughter seems to be the best way to get around this man’s poignant pauses.

“You let me worry about my nuts.” He laughs and looks down. “Well, you can worry about them, too, but I take full responsibility for their safety.”

I laugh. He’s really pretty funny. “We can both worry about your nuts,” I say with a smile. I chance a glance at him, and he’s looking closely at me. Too closely. Laughter. I need to say something funny. But nothing comes to me. I bite my tongue because I don’t want to say the wrong thing.

“Do you want to go out with me?” he asks. He looks surprised by his own question, and I assume he wants to take it back. But he doesn’t. He just looks at me expectantly.

“Define out?” I say.

He grins. “You and me on a date.”

He doesn’t have a car, and he just got out of prison. A date might be kind of difficult. But I can’t say that. I’ll hurt his feelings. “What kind of date?” I ask instead.

“The kind where you and I spend some time together,” he says with a shrug.

“We’re doing that now,” I inform him.

“Well, damn,” he sings. “You’re right.” He looks around at the horses. “Next time, remind me to take you someplace nicer.”

I laugh. He smiles at me.

“That’s a beautiful sound,” he says quietly.

I look at Tequila and pat her behind. “Did you pass gas, girl?” I ask. I grin at him. “Sorry, but she can be kind of noisy.”

He smiles and rubs his chin. I bet it’s scratchy under his fingertips, and if I were another person, I would want to touch it to find out. “And she’s funny, too,” he says under his breath.

I smile and motion toward the door. “We had better get out of here before my dad comes after you,” I say. But I’m not worried about my dad. I’m worried about me. Because I like this man. A lot.

“Can I walk with you back to the house?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. He’s so damn cute. And he makes my insides quiver. I’m not sure the latter is a good thing.

I nod, and he steps up beside me and then opens the barn door for me. He holds the door open and lets me and Maggie through. His shoulder bumps mine, and I step away from him. He leans his head down close to me. “Do I smell bad?” he asks.

I lean closer to him and inhale. “Not that I can tell,” I reply quietly. He smells like citrus and outdoors, just like I remember from that night. And I want to bury my face in his chest and drink him in. But I can’t.

“Just checking,” he says with a laugh. “Every time I get close to you, you move away,” he says casually. But there’s nothing casual about the comment. Nothing at all.

I point to my chest. “I’ve been working all day…and messing with the horses. I was worried that I was the one who smelled bad.”

He looks into my face, and I can’t draw my eyes away. “You smell like lemons and raindrops.” He closes his eyes and inhales. “And all things innocent.”