Page 92 of Danger

Honey tilts her head. "You think he doesn't find you attractive?"

"It's not that." I throw my hands up. "It's just so unfair. I'm over here thinking about him constantly, and he's over there with all these stupid boundaries and rules. I don't want him tocross that line because I asked him to. I want him to want to so badly he can't talk himself out of it."

She laughs softly. "And by cross that line you mean sleep with you?"

I wince. "Yeah. That."

Honey leans back against the counter, studying me. "Trust me, sweetheart. It's not you."

I glance at her.

"A few of the local buckle bunnies have an actual bet going," she says. "Who can be the one to break him?"

My stomach drops. “And?”

“And none of them have.” She shrugs. “Which, I kind of respect. Not a lot of men around here hold out.”

I don’t say anything. Honey nudges my shoulder.

“He’s not waiting because you’re not enough. He’s waiting because he wants the right person. Someone he and Fisher can trust. Someone who sticks around.” She smiles at me, softer now. “It’ll happen. Trust me. Before you know it.”

I’m not Rylee. I will never be Rylee. Why does it feel like I’m serving her sentence anyway?

“Stetson Fog,” she adds sweetly.

I groan. “I hate you.”

She grins. “No, you don’t.”

I don’t respond, just keep prepping for the rush. I know she’s not wrong. Despite everything, there’s just something about Danger—his hands, his voice, the way he looks at me like I’m the only person who exists in the whole goddamn town that tells me he wants me just as bad as I want him. It should all worry me, but mostly it just makes me ache.

A couple hours and twenty-seven whiskey and cokes later, I’m dead on my feet. Honey waves me off early, says we’re dying down, and that they’ll close up.

“You go on,” she says, tossing me my jacket. “Enjoy yourself.”

I laugh, the sound dry in my throat. “I’ll try.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Or maybe you’ll go see your cowboy.”

I stick out my tongue, but I’m already out the door. I left my car here last night since I went with Danger and caught a ride to the bakery with my parents. The car is a junkyard miracle—one gray door, the rest red. The muffler drags. The key sticks. But it’s mine.

Except it doesn’t look like mine. I freeze, bag half-zipped, my keys fall out of my hand and onto the concrete.

My car. The gray door is gone, replaced by one that actually matches. The body is straight. The muffler doesn’t even touch the ground. There’s a bow on the antenna.

I stare at it for a long time, like maybe it’ll turn back into a pumpkin. Then I get in, put the key in the ignition, and start it.

It purrs like a happy kitten. It doesn’t take me three tries to start like usual. I laugh, just once, high and shocked. Then I grab my phone.

Winnie

Did you do this?

Three dots. Four. He’s typing, then stopping, then typing again.

Danger

Do what?