Chapter 28
The Tipsy Cow was in full Saturday-night swing—music thumping, laughter rising over the clink of beer bottles, and a pool cue snapping somewhere near the back. Vivi ducked through the crowd, side-stepping a cowboy doing his best impression of a line dance solo.
"New York! You want your usual?" Dottie called from behind the bar, a single, silver braid falling over her shoulder.
"Sure do," Vivi said, smiling as she slipped onto a stool beside Jo. "And maybe a basket of buffalo fries before I start eating the coaster."
Jo sipped her drink. "You've been here five minutes and Dottie's already offering you a tab. When did you become everyone's favorite city transplant?"
Warmth spread through Vivi at the words. The same people who'd once looked at her like an outsider now waved her over like a local.
"Probably around the time I helped her polish her dating profile," Vivi said. "Turns out she's got a real knack for boomerangs, beer pours and likes to kayak. So do a few other silver foxes in town. She's booked solid for the next three weekends."
"You're terrifyingly good at this whole small-town assimilation thing."
"You just have to listen, smile, and remember whose kid won the local talent show last year," Vivi said, waving to an older ranch hand she'd met at the farmers' market.
"Yeah. Now, tell me why you're buttering me up."
Vivi hesitated, wishing she was already a martini or two into the night. "Don't freak out, but I might've done something incredibly good or terribly bad. Jury's still out."
Jo took a long pull on her beer. "Remember when I said I wasn't your therapist?"
"You invited me out."
Jo glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot, then leaned in and whispered, "Only to see if you had any news on Eli."
The comment broke something in her heart. After nearly a decade, there were clearly still unresolved feelings there. The weight in Jo's glance said everything—years of love, regret, a story of loss that hadn't finished being told.
Vivi thought about her own messy, transient relationships.
How she'd never been someone's everything, never risked it all and watched it crumble.
A shiver ran through her at the thought of loving with that kind of intensity—giving everything and still losing—and she realized she might never fully understand it.
Though lately, she was starting to wonder.
"I thought you didn't want to talk about him," Vivi said quietly.
"I don't. But that doesn't mean I don't want to hear about him."
"His leave is up. He goes back next Monday."
"Good riddance," Jo said and absolutely did not mean it.
"Can we get back to me?" Vivi said, and Jo looked visibly relieved to hand the spotlight over.
"Is this where I have to find a single fuck to give?"
"Just one, I promise,” Vivi began. “I think I solved a very big problem."
"Every sentence that starts like that ends with me needing another drink."
Unable to contain it, Vivi squirmed in her chair. "I sent a letter to Boone's neighbor explaining what a grand gesture it would be to uphold the agreement and abide by his great-uncle's wishes. I even offered to spruce up his dating bio for free."
Jo's face went still. Eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Horror radiated off her in waves, and Vivi felt the certainty drain right out of her.
"Virgil the worm?" Jo asked.
"He's not a worm. Everyone has redeeming qualities."
She believed that—genuinely believed it. Even the ones who ghosted, screwed up, or made her want to throw her coffee across the room. The world wasn't totally cruel and people weren't irredeemable. That belief had always steadied her.
Right now though, it felt a little shaky.
"No," Jo said. "He literally ate a worm in middle school. Like straight from an apple's core."
Vivi threw up in her mouth a little. "Seriously?"
"Hand to god."
"Well, that isn't going in his bio," Vivi said. "Anyway, I mentioned that upholding the handshake deal would go a long way toward helping the Callahans and his own standing in the community."
"You what?"
"It's not bad! It's a good thing. It could make a huge difference."
Jo set the beer bottle down with a thunk. "You do remember who we're talking about, right? Boone Callahan. Human privacy fence. The man who glared at the census worker for trying to count his mailbox."
Vivi sighed, spinning her beer by the neck. "I know, I know. But this is different. Boone needs help and won't ask for it. I'm just nudging fate a little."
"No, you're risking his wrath, his pride, and his total distrust of you."
Vivi groaned, covering her face. "When you put it like that—"
"I always put it like that," Jo said. "Admit it, you like him."
Vivi peeked through her fingers. "I like everyone."
"Uh-huh, sure you do. And I'm guessing 'everyone' doesn't make you sound like you swallowed a blender every time you talk about them."
Vivi's stomach bottomed out with this terrifying truth humming in her chest that was getting harder to talk over. "Maybe I like him a little more than I should."
"New York, that's not a little. That's a whole ranch worth of trouble."
Vivi opened her mouth to downplay it—and instead said, "I slept with Boone."
She slapped her hands over her mouth. Both of them, in case more secrets decided to make a run for it.
"So the sex trap worked?"
"It did. I was going to back out and then it just—happened."
Liar. It did not just happen.
She'd taken him out there with nefarious plans and executed them with impressive efficiency and calling it spontaneous was the most dishonest thing she'd said all week.
Her belly pinched at the silent admission.
Boone had been incendiary—every inch of him kinetic, the kind of man who made her heart hammer, her better judgment dissolve, and her body forget it was supposed to have reservations.
But the memory of him—good god, the memory— his heated hands, the grit in his voice, the absolute certainty with which he moved had her pulse spiking like she'd swallowed a live wire.
She bit her lip and tried to rein in the swoon. It was hopeless. He was burned into her nervous system in a way that didn't feel temporary, and that was the part she couldn't stop circling back to.
The clock was ticking. In just a little more than a week, she’d be packed up, driving away from the ranch, from the friends she'd stumbled into, from that infuriating, irresistible man who'd set her world on fire.
Even the thought of it created emotions she didn't know what to do with.
This last week stretched ahead of her like a cliff she had to walk toward, with nothing but distance and the memory of him waiting on the other side.
"How can it 'just happen' if you plotted to get him naked?" Jo said, eyes wide with accusation. "Because the other night you were all about the snipe hunt and then you chickened out."
"I planned a fishing trip for Boone and—."
"You planned a date?"
“It wasn’t a date. I was just trying to get Boone to relax.”
"I bet he was fucking relaxed after that. "
"Anyway, we were on a fishing trip and started talking about real stuff and he ate a piece of my peach pie."
"Peach pie?" Jo asked suspiciously.
"It didn't help that I walked in his boots the other night."
"You walked in his boots?" Jo leaned in, grin spreading. "Is that some kind of kink?"
"No, more like the saying. You know, walk a mile in someone's shoes? Boone’s boots were the closest thing."
"I'll never understand city people. Did the boots stay on?"
Vivi went completely red. "Jo!"
"I'll take that as a yes. Was it good?"
"It was—" She groaned. "It was incredible, okay? The kind of thing that fries your brain and makes you question every decision that led you to a different life. And no, I don't know what it means."
"You think it was rebound sex?"
"It has to be," Vivi said, pushing her hair back. "I just broke up with Lewis. Boone is still carrying so much grief. His ex left him when he needed someone most. He's closed off in ways I'm not sure he even realizes. I can't imagine he'd actually—"
"Feel something?" Jo supplied quietly.
"Yeah. That."
Jo studied her for a long moment, the noise of the bar fading into a blur of laughter and clinking glasses. "You know, for someone who helps people find love for a living, you really suck at recognizing it when it's looking you dead in the face."
Vivi shot her a loaded look. "Don't start."
"Too late," Jo said, finishing her beer. "You can label it a rebound all you want, but your face didn't get the memo. And honestly? Neither did your voice, your hands, or the way you've said his name approximately seven times tonight without noticing."
Vivi's heart stuttered. The memory of Boone's quiet smile flickered through her chest like a struck match—hot and fast and gone before she could hold it.
"Maybe it doesn't matter," she said softly. "It was one night. He'll probably end up regretting it, and I'll pretend I'm fine. My time here has an expiration date."
"Or you could stop assuming the worst for once. I mean have the actual nerve to go after it," Jo said, drumming her nails on the bar. "Because if Boone Callahan had you once, there is absolutely no way he's not thinking about having you again."
Not sure what her face was projecting for the entire bar to read, she stared at her beer quietly with the terrifying possibility that Jo might be right.
Maybe the expiration date she'd been counting on to save her might not save her at all.