Their eyes met, and lightning cracked right through the roof. He grinned at her and walked toward her, every ounce of confidence in the world in those shoulders.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Thinkin’ about goin’ camping,” he said, indicating the gear on the shelves.

  She blinked, her long eyelashes almost sticking together, and she realized she’d been pressing her palms to her eyes. Had she mashed her false eyelashes? Surely Elaine would’ve told her if she had.

  Still, she reached up and brushed her fingertips along her lashes. “Why does that sound so false?” she asked.

  Travis chuckled, and that sound could make a woman swoon. “Guilty, I suppose.” He ducked his head, barely lifting it enough to peer up at her from underneath the brim of that big, brown hat. “I was wondering if you got my note. The one I left on your truck at the farm supply store a few days ago?”

  Shayla’s chest crackled with heat and sparks. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “It was confusing.”

  His expression darkened as he ticked his head up even more. “It was?”

  “Did I get a receipt? I don’t get it. Why did you want to know that?” She had programmed his number in her phone, but she hadn’t used it. Yet.

  “Did you get one?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “It had that flyer for the Fall Ball on it,” he said, immediately clearing his throat.

  Shayla could only stare at him. “Okay.”

  Travis laughed lightly, though his feet shifted along the painted concrete floor. “Gonna make me work for it, I see.”

  “Work for what?” she asked, genuinely confused.

  His face turned blank, and Shayla glanced around to see if anyone was watching them. Didn’t seem to be. Then Travis blinked, and that familiar fire entered those pretty, emerald-green eyes.

  “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go with me,” he said, lowering his chin again. “To the Fall Ball.”

  Shayla’s mouth dropped open, and she quickly snapped it shut. Her brain whirred, taking a long time to come to a three-letter or a two-letter answer. In fact, she still hadn’t landed on what to say, and the seconds ticked by, each one like a silent bomb landing in only her ears.

  3

  Travis couldn’t believe what he’d stooped to. Every minute which had passed since he’d left that stupid note on Shayla’s truck had been a form of torture. He supposed he couldn’t handle the needling of his mind anymore.

  Shayla’s shock didn’t help, and every muscle in his body screamed at him to fly. Now. Just go. He didn’t come to town much, and he wouldn’t have to see this woman again.

  “Okay,” he said, his voice falsely high now. He’d had to tell a little fib to get off the farm today, though Lee had enough cowboys to finish the last part of the harvest on the agricultural side. Travis hadn’t gotten his second day off for coming to town and practically bathing in manure, and he’d told himself for the entire thirty-minute drive here that he deserved a couple of hours off.

  “Well, it was good to see you.” He spun away from Shayla and pressed his eyes closed. Good to see you? Why had he said that?

  His tongue had been betraying him for thirty-seven years, so Travis wasn’t sure why he expected it to play nicely now. He narrowly avoided running into a rack of running shorts and skirts, dodged to the left, and headed toward the exit. That tall rectangle of light was his only saving grace.

  “Travis,” Shayla said behind him, but he kept on going.

  She hadn’t said yes or no, which was an answer all of its own. And not a good one. Trav hadn’t had a lot of luck with the ladies, but he knew that much.

  Female-free, he recited to himself, the mantra becoming a scream by the time he pressed on the release bar that let him out of the store. The sunlight assaulted his eyes, and he reached up to press his cowboy hat even lower.

  “Travis,” Shayla said again. “Could you wait?”

  “Nope,” he said. “Gotta get back to work.” He stepped off the curb and cut a glance in her direction. She looked near to panic, but he didn’t understand that. “I—” He cut himself off, because she didn’t get to know that he’d snuck away from his job, told Will he’d eaten lunch when he hadn’t, and had made a special trip to town just to be rejected.

  Oh, no, she did not get to know that, and his mouth was not going to betray him so harshly. He pressed his lips together and fumbled for the key fob in his pocket. He couldn’t quite get a grip on it, and he realized he didn’t need to.

  His truck had a little button on the door handle that would unlock the vehicle if the fob was within a meter of the vehicle. He pressed and yanked as Shayla said, “I’d go to the Fall Ball with you.”

  He froze then, waiting for the other half of that sentence to drop.

  I’d go to the Fall Ball with you if…

  “If?” he supplied when she remained silent. He turned toward her, his hand dropping to his side. Today, Shayla wore a pair of leggings that clung to her body and went halfway down her calf. The tank top she’d paired it with matched in color—mostly black, with some bright green, blue, and yellow stripes along the sides. She wasn’t wearing the trail runners he’d seen previously, but a bright neon pair of running shoes.

  She definitely liked color, and somehow, she’d made the things that had been muted in Travis’s life light up.

  “It’s not for another couple of weeks,” Shayla said. “Maybe we could go out between now and then.”

  “Ah, you want to feel me out. See if I’m worth buying a dress for.”

  Shayla blinked like he’d flicked cold water in her face. He mentally shook himself for being so blunt again.

  “I mean,” he said. “I get it. I don’t come in off the ranch much, and I might not see you again until the Ball. Maybe it’ll be awkward, and ball gowns are expensive.”

  “You’re here today,” she said. “Twice in what? Four days?”

  “Yes, well.” He refused to clear his throat or duck his head. Shayla held his gaze with those dark brown eyes that followed him into his dreams. Long, false eyelashes bordered them, and while Travis didn’t like a woman who wore a lot of makeup, the eyelashes seemed to be all Shayla bothered with.

  “Are you saying you won’t have time for lunch or dinner in the next two weeks?”

  “I have time right now,” he said as his stomach growled. “Or another time. Whatever.” He hadn’t driven here to take her out for a meal today, and he suddenly wanted to change his clothes. He’d literally come out of the milkshed and gotten in his truck without giving a second thought to his attire or the strength of his cologne.

  He reached into his pocket and extracted a piece of gum. With that in his mouth, he offered the pack to Shayla, who shook her head. She seemed to be warring with herself about something, and Travis gave her the time and silence to do it.

  “I can’t go right now,” she said. “But I have your number. How about I text you and we find a time that works for both of us?”

  “Okay,” he said, the word sticking halfway in his throat. “Sure.”

  She nodded, a small smile appearing on her mouth. Travis focused there for a minute, the sun’s temperature doubling, before pulling his gaze back to hers. “Okay,” she echoed back to him. “It was good to see you, Trav.”

  He reached up and tipped his hat, a natural gesture he’d been doing for as long as he could remember. Shayla walked away, and Travis got in his truck. With the engine running and the air conditioning blowing, he allowed himself to look toward Sweetspot.

  The door swung closed, the shop swallowing Shayla from his view. He breathed in and out, saying, “Well, that wasn’t a complete waste.”

  His phone chimed, and he dug it out of his pocket to check it. This is Shayla. I’m free for lunch on Wednesday next week, dinner any night, and breakfast believe it or not, on Monday after a call with someone in London.

  Travis’s smile burst onto his face, and his first inclination was to respond immediately. Get a date set up.

  Instead, he put his phone in the middle console, feeling like his arm had been encased in something heavy so he couldn’t move it very fast. He moved it back to the steering wheel and flipped the truck into gear.

  He drove back to the ranch with country music blasting through his speakers, and he pulled up to the milkshed and went into the refrigeration unit, hoping to find his sister and ask her how to deal with the text from Shayla in the best way possible.

  “Rissa?” he called, and she came through the long, plastic flaps with a crate of milk bottles in her arms. “What can I help you with?”

  “I need two more crates,” she said. “Thanks, Trav.”

  He could carry two at once, and he found them packed and waiting in the cold refrigeration unit. He hefted them and took them out to the waiting bay where Rissa had put the other crates. She studied the clipboard and made a couple of checkmarks.

  “This is my last delivery.” She raised her dark green eyes to his. “What’s goin’ on with you?”

  “I need some help,” he said, retrieving his phone from his pocket again. Since Clarissa was just younger than him, he was close with her. She’d helped him several times in the past to say the right things to the women he was interested in. He didn’t think there was anyone who could wave a magic wand and get his relationships to go better than they had, but if there was, it would be the youngest Cooper sibling.

  Rissa lowered her clipboard and looked at the phone, her eyebrows going up.

  “I know I said I wasn’t going to date anymore,” Travis said. “But I sort of met this woman I’d run into a few months ago, and I did something rash.” He handed the phone to her. “It’s the number right there at the top.”

  “You haven’t even put her name in yet?” Rissa volleyed her gaze from the device to him and back to the phone. “That’s odd.” She read the text. “You asked her out to her face?”

  “Sort of,” Travis said, thinking of the note he’d left on Shayla’s truck. “I ran into her a couple of days ago at the farm supply store. I asked if she’d gotten a receipt, because they had a flyer for the Fall Ball on them. And I left my name and number. She didn’t text or anything.”

  Rissa’s frown deepened with every word he said, and that somehow spurred him to keep talking. “So I went to town again today. She owns Sweetspot. The outdoor outfitters place? You know? Anyway, I asked for her, and sort of asked her to the Ball in person, yes. I had to explain the note.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet,” Rissa murmured, re-reading the text again. “So what do you want from me? You know your schedule.” She started to hand the phone back to him.

  Travis didn’t take it. “What’s desperate?” Monday was the soonest they could get together, and Travis would be lying if he said he didn’t want to do that.

  “These are all next week,” Rissa said. “None of them are desperate.”

  “What do I say?”

  Rissa heaved a great big sigh and rolled her eyes. “You say, ‘where’s your favorite place?’ Then, after she tells you, you can ask what she likes to eat there. Then, you figure out if that is a breakfast, lunch, or dinner item, and that’s your answer.”

  Travis grinned at his sister. “You’re a genius.”

  “I’ve already taught you all of this too.” She smacked the phone to his chest and released it. If Travis didn’t want it to fall to the dirty floor, he had to grab it, and luckily for him he possessed some mad ninja skills.

  He fumbled the phone but kept it in his hands while Rissa bent to lift one of the crates. “Before you do that,” she said over her shoulder. “Help me take these out front. Spike is here, and you owe me.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Travis said, tucking his phone away in a place of safety until he could use it for longer than a few seconds.

  Once Rissa’s customer had their milk, and she said she was heading over to the Shoppe, Travis ducked around the side of the shed and started tapping.

  What’s your favorite place to eat? he asked.

  That’s an easy one, Shayla responded. The Bluebell Café.

  Travis had heard of it, at least. He’d been there once, and he hadn’t been impressed. The woman he’d gone with had “adored” their quiche, but Travis didn’t understand food that didn’t come between two pieces of bread or on top of dough.

  What do you like there the very most? he asked.

  I didn’t know there’d be a questionnaire to fill out, Shayla said.

  Travis smiled and kept tapping on his screen. Oh, I see. You don’t want your date to try hard to take you somewhere you like. That’s fine. How does Thursday night for dinner at Farm Fresh sound?

  His phone rang, and he chuckled as Shayla’s name came up on the screen. “Howdy, ma’am,” he drawled after answering the call.

  “A few texts is not trying hard,” she said, eliminating the hello completely.

  “It is when the woman on the other end of the message calls a couple of questions a questionnaire,” he shot back.

  A breath came through the line, and then the two of them laughed together.

  “I like the raspberry butter at The Bluebell Café,” she said. “With the honey and lavender scones.”

  “Hmm,” Travis said, his mind working hard. “That sounds like breakfast food, Shayla.”

  “That it is.”

  “So Monday morning after your call?”

  “That would work for me,” she said, her tone a touch cooler than it had been when speaking about the scones. Travis didn’t want to lose out to food, but he told himself this was new for both of them. Not only that, but the three times they’d interacted previous to this hadn’t exactly been filled with warm fuzzies and shy glances. Electricity, yes. But sometimes electricity could burn.

  “What time should I come pick you up?” he asked.

  “The store doesn’t open until ten,” she said. “My call will be done at eight-thirty.”

  “Okay,” he said. “That still doesn’t tell me what time to be at your place. Are you near The Bluebell Café? Far? Do we have enough time to eat between then and when you open?”

  Shayla giggled again and said, “One question at a time, cowboy.”

  He drew in a breath, his frustration rising too. She’s just teasing, he told himself. No, she’s flirting.

  Flirting was much better than teasing, and he allowed a chuckle to spill from his mouth too. “All right,” he drawled. “I guess this really is like a questionnaire.”

  At least she’d gotten his number and finally used it.

  “I can go in late,” she said. “How about you come get me at nine, and we’ll go from there?”

  “Deal,” Travis said, relief flowing through him.

  “No,” Shayla said. “This isn’t a deal, Trav. It’s a date.”

  4

  Shayla needed to get Alexander Huffman off the call. She’d debated between going running in the morning the way she usually did or showering for her date with Travis. She’d gone with the running, determined for her meeting with Alex to only last sixty minutes.

  They were nearing seventy now, and Shayla still needed to shower and get ready for her date.

  “…so send me over those docs,” Alex said in his crisp British accent. “And I’ll take a look.”

  “Yes,” Shayla said. “I’ve got them here, and I’ll make sure Elaine gets them to you.” She leaned toward the screen. “I do have to run, Alex. It’s been lovely talking to you again.” She smiled into the camera, hoping he wouldn’t hear the urgency in her voice. She also didn’t normally use words like “lovely” when talking to business partners.

  “Of course,” he said. “I always like seeing you, Shayla. I’m excited to be moving forward on this.”

  “Me too,” she said, and they signed off on the call.

  Shayla sprang from her chair and headed into the bathroom, yanking her phone from the pocket of her leggings. “Sorry, Trav,” she dictated as she moved. “I’m running late. I know you’ve probably left already, but I’m just stepping into the shower. I’ll be ready as fast as possible.”

  She didn’t check the message for typos before she sent it, and she set the phone on the bathroom counter so she could jump in the shower.

  Because of her semi-permanent eyelashes, Shayla didn’t need more than a quick swipe of foundation on her skin to even out the blotchiness. If she didn’t wear the clothes Sweetspot sold, it was a real special occasion, and this morning’s breakfast date with the handsome, if not a bit blunt, Travis Cooper definitely qualified as a special occasion. A very special occasion.

  So she stepped into a gorgeous, flowing skirt the color of eggshells. Big, bold, bright blooms splashed across the fabric, and Shayla pulled on a sleeveless blouse in a pale pink color that matched that on the skirt perfectly.

  She normally wore her hair up in a high ponytail on top of her head, because it made her look like she’d just come in from her workout, and her customers usually liked that. She wasn’t sure she had time to dry her hair, the thickness of it always causing her problems.

  After running her fingers through the locks, she decided to take a couple of extra minutes to try to tame her hair. Travis had texted to say she could take the time she needed, but her own anxiety to see him drove her to keep moving quickly.

  When she finally deemed her curls tame enough to go out in public, she swiped her clutch from the front table and went out onto the front porch. Travis’s great big truck sat in the driveway, and he looked up and out the windshield.

  He slid from the truck, his smile outshining the power of the sun. “Wow,” he said. “Look at you.” He came down the sidewalk in a saunter, and Shayla got the feeling that he knew he looked “wow” too.