Chapter 22
You’re Still the One – Shania Twain
Cassidy
What the hell did you wear for a date with a cowboy? I mean I’d been on with him once before, but I hadn’t kissed him then. I hadn’t seen him at work. Hadn’t heard how he dealt with people who weren’t doing their job properly. It was kind of hot.
Now, I was desperately searching through my closet for something suitable to wear. I wanted to call Lily and ask for her advice, but Gunner was right. We should keep it between us until we knew it wasn’t going to be a huge mistake.
Sitting on the bed I gazed at the contents of the closet, some of which had spilled out onto the bed and floor.
It struck me as I looked at the whirlwind that had hit my bedroom, aside from Lily I didn’t have anyone else to call.
I had a few friends, like Lola from the library and Katelynn who taught fifth grade and shared supervision of recess with me.
Mrs. Wright was always there for advice but more educational than fashion.
Lily had become my best friend, though, since she moved back to Silver Peaks, and it should be her I was asking.
I couldn’t, though, so I had to figure it out myself.
“Okay,” I sighed, standing up and going to my closet. “You will not beat me.”
“Wow,” Gunner said as I stood in the doorway of my apartment. “You look incredible.”
I felt my cheeks heat as I looked down at myself. “I hope I picked the right kind of outfit.”
Gunner blew out a breath, his eyes looking directly into mine. “Like I said, incredible.”
I’d gone for leather look pants, a cute red sweater that finished just above my waistband and some high black boots with a silver buckle at the ankle. The heel was so high and thin, I was grateful there wasn’t still snow on the ground. I just had wind and rain to contend with.
“I’ll get my coat.” I reached behind the door for it and then grabbed my bag from the console table. “Okay, let’s go.”
Gunner stood back and let me walk in front of him, down the stairs and to the main door to the street.
My apartment was small and cozy and above the bookstore which I loved.
It was like having my own personal library.
Deidre and Wallace, the owners, were always happy for me to go in and browse, sometimes for hours.
They even made me cups of English tea to drink while I curled up in a chair and read the book that I always ended up buying.
Hence why my own bookshelves were full to bursting.
Gunner’s brand new sleek black F-150 truck was waiting and instead of parking in one of the diagonal spaces he’d parked it close to the edge of the sidewalk. He rushed around me and opened the door.
“You need help getting in?” he asked, letting his eyes drift down the length of me in a not-so-subtle once-over. “You’re kind of tiny even in those boots…and those pants are...”
Tight. They were tight. Hence the choice of a tiny thong that was already riding the fine line of comfort.
“I can manage,” I said, channeling all my independent woman energy.
Gunner grinned and tilted his head, all smug cowboy confidence. “Go for it.”
He stood back, one hand braced on the top of the truck door, watching me with undisguised amusement as I heaved myself up as gracefully as possible.
Once I was in, I smoothed my top, pretending the move hadn’t winded me a little.
The interior was surprisingly clean, all rich leather and still carrying that faint new-car scent.
That was, until the driver’s door swung open, and Gunner’s scent wrapped around me like a hug I wasn’t ready for, woodsy, warm, and unmistakably him.
“Okay?” he asked, buckling in beside me.
“Yep,” I said, voice breathier than I meant. “You ready?”
“I am.” He threw me a crooked smile.
“So, where do the family think you are tonight?”
“Boys’ night with my high school buddies,” he said, voice low, conspiratorial. “I was suitably sketchy about it.”
I laughed. “Same when Lily asked me. I mumbled something about grading and face masks.”
“It’s for the best,” he said, giving me a wink that flipped my stomach.
I stared at the side of his face as he pulled onto the road, his features lit in gold from the dash lights.
How could a wink make me feel off-balance?
I wasn’t the girl who blushed at smiles and swagger.
But Gunner had this way of being so casually charming that I couldn’t find my footing around him.
“Where are we going?” I asked, needing something to hold on to.
“Somewhere nice.” His grin grew wider. “You’ll see.”
As he drove, his left wrist rested over the steering wheel while his right elbow leaned against the center console.
The picture of effortless control. It wasn’t fair how good he looked doing absolutely nothing, just driving with calm confidence, bathed in the glow of passing headlights.
I wasn’t the kind of woman who fell for the strong-and-silent type.
But somehow, I was starting to think I’d underestimated just how dangerous Gunner Miller could be to my resolve.
“Cassidy, you okay?”
I blinked. “Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking. Long day. We talked about Shakespeare today.”
“I know. Bertie’s been quoting bad sonnets since she got home,” he said with a laugh. “She’s very committed. Let’s just say I don’t think poetry’s her path.”
“She gives one hundred percent to everything,” I said, my whole body softening at the thought of her. “She didn’t stop until she made it to the top of the gym rope last week. It took forty minutes, but she wouldn’t quit.”
“She had a Pre-K teacher who once told Nash she was obstinate.” His voice was quiet now, sincere. “So, I’m glad she’s got a teacher now who appreciates her determination.”
I turned to look at him, caught off guard. “Thanks.”
He gave me a small smile, one that twisted something inside me. “Just saying what I feel.”
“How was your day?” I asked, taking a deep breath and moving the attention from me
“Not bad. Charlie and I took in an ex-racehorse that’d been abandoned. A stable girl smuggled him out in the middle of the night. Said what they were doing to him was wrong.”
I gasped. “She just… took him?”
“Yep. She was determined that he wouldn’t suffer any longer. And now she has a horse full of trauma.”
“That’s… brave,” I said, moved. “And reckless.”
“I don’t even want to think how she managed to get a million dollar racehorse past the security.” His smile was one that told me he was proud of what she’d done.
“And she brought him to you.” And I felt a sense of pride on his behalf.
“She’s from Sweet Maple Falls and knew about our program. Reached out to me.” He said it nonchalantly like it was no biggie, but his reputation said otherwise.
“Was she prosecuted?” I asked.
“Nope. As long as she kept quiet, the owner let it go. Which tells me he’d put that horse through some awful shit if he’s willing to do that.
” He turned off the main road onto a narrow gravel path, his profile etched in moonlight.
“She’s got experience. I even wondered if maybe she could replace Charlie. ”
The thought made something sharp flash through me, jealousy, maybe. The idea of another woman being around him, working beside him.
“Is she young?” I asked, pretending to keep it casual. “Willing to learn?”
He glanced over, his frown telling me he heard the edge in my voice. “Probably Wilder’s age. Feisty. Not my type. Why?”
“Just curious.” I exhaled, tension leaving me in a rush. “Definitely Wilder’s type, though.”
Gunner chuckled. “Exactly. Which might just be a reason not to hire her.”
I laughed with him, but my chest still buzzed.
“You don’t want to lose her,” I said, smoothing my palms on my thighs. “You should call her back.”
His eyes flicked toward me. “I will. Tomorrow. But tonight…”
He reached over slowly, hand brushing mine where it rested on the console. His pinky grazed my knuckle, a feather-light touch that somehow made every nerve ending in my body sit up and pay attention.
“…tonight’s all about you.”
His voice was like velvet, low and warm, and that smile, lazy, intimate, just for me, knocked the breath clean out of my lungs.
My fingers curled instinctively toward his, craving contact.
I turned my head away before I could say something I shouldn’t. But my smile lingered. And so did his touch.
Around thirty minutes later, Gunner turned the truck onto a quiet farm track, the tires crunching over gravel before easing onto a smooth stretch of blacktop. The headlights lit up the courtyard ahead, and my breath caught.
Huge terracotta pots overflowed with late summer blooms, placed like sentinels along the perimeter.
It was still a working farm because I could see the tack neatly hung on a rail, a barrow overflowing with fresh hay, and a tractor halfway caked in dried mud, but every detail screamed hard work, love and intention.
We rolled to a stop in front of a stable door, where a hand-painted sign read: Apple Bloom Farm.
“We’re here,” Gunner said, turning off the engine. He gave a slow exhale, like this moment had weight for him, too. “I hope you like it.”
I peered through the windshield, absorbing the view, the unexpected softness of it. Even in the dark, it glowed.
“It’s a farm,” I whispered, more to myself than to him. “A real one.”
He nodded, rubbing his palms against his jeans like he was nervous.
“It’s family-run. They grow their own stuff, raise their own meat, even churn their own butter or some such nonsense.
There’s a restaurant in the back barn, kinda rustic, but…
” He shrugged. “I figured, growing up on a farm, you might like it.”
I turned to him slowly, heart full in my chest. It wasn’t the place; it was what it meant. He hadn’t picked somewhere fancy to impress me. He’d picked something that whispered I see you. I know you. This matters to you, so it matters to me.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, voice soft.
“Eating,” Gunner said, his smile a little sheepish now. “You didn’t eat already, did you?”
“No. You told me not to.”
“Good,” he said, chuckling. “I made a reservation. Apparently the pork chop changes lives.”
My laugh was too breathy to sound normal. I nodded, blinking hard. He remembered where I came from. He understood that dirt and work and animals weren’t beneath me, they were part of me.
“Is it okay?” he asked. And it was the way he asked it, not just casual but careful, cautious, like he needed it to be okay. That undid me.
“It’s perfect,” I whispered. My throat was tight. “Absolutely perfect.”
Before I could stop myself, I leaned across the console and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His stubble was warm, rough against my lips. The scent of him, earth, soap, and that subtle spice that was just Gunner, filled my head.
“Thank you,” I murmured, lingering a second longer than I meant to. “Thank you so much.”
Gunner let out a breath that trembled at the edges. His eyes searched mine, and for a second, the whole world stilled. No teasing. No sarcasm. Just quiet understanding.
“Okay,” he said, voice husky. “Let’s get in there and see what you’ve been missing since you left that farm of yours.”
As I stepped down from the truck, the cool air brushing my skin, I realized something with perfect clarity:
Gunner Miller hadn’t just planned a date. He’d given me a piece of home.
And somehow, I knew that he was going to be the hardest thing to walk away from.