Page 123 of Saltwater Cowboy

I was nervous. More nervous than I had been on my first date with Marie—not that this was a date.

At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

“Alright, you get to pick the song now.” I handed Rose the aux cord.

She took the cord and plugged her phone in, scrolling through her playlist as the truck rumbled down the quiet roads of Wippowa. Rose settled on a song I had heard on the radio and in the grocery stores, but I sure couldn’t tell you what it was.

“Is this okay?” Rose looked over at me, eyes unsure.

“Whatever you’d like to listen to.”

The melodies danced in the air between us and I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel.

It wasn’t a date.

We both knew that. I had made sure to say it outright, to set the expectation, to keep things light. But as I pulled into a parking spot just a few blocks from the restaurant, my hands tightened on the wheel, and my pulse picked up like I was some kid taking his high school crush out for the first time.

I just wanted tonight to be… good. No, scratch that—I wanted it to be perfect.

Rose had been running herself into the ground between the farm, her business, and adjusting to life here. I saw it every day. The exhaustion in her eyes, the way she threw herself into work like it was the only thing keeping her upright. But she was more than that. She deserved more than that.

And if I could be the person to remind her that life in Wippowa wasn’t just about work and responsibility, that it could be fun, too—well, I wanted to be that person.

I glanced at her as she unbuckled her seatbelt, her fingers brushing over her jeans. She looked good. More than good. But it wasn’t just that, there was something about her tonight, something lighter in her expression, like maybe she was finally letting herself breathe.

“Ready?” I asked, clearing my throat.

She nodded, reaching for the door handle. “I hope you know I’ll be judging this restaurant hard. Since you’re keeping it a secret.”

I huffed a laugh, stepping out of the truck. “Good thing I know it’ll live up to the hype, then.”

She shot me a teasing look over the roof of the truck before we started down the sidewalk. The streets were alive with people heading in and out of shops and restaurants, the warm glow of string lights making downtown Wippowa feel like something out of a movie.

I slid my hands into my pockets as we walked. My nerves still buzzed under my skin, but I shoved them down, keeping my focus on her.

The cool evening air mingled with the warm glow of the restaurant’s neon sign. “Here we are.” I announced, trying to sound more confident than I felt. The building was nice—nothing too fancy, just a cozy, casual spot with exposed brick, mismatched wooden tables, and string lights that draped the windows like a soft, warm invitation. I could see that Rose thought so too; her eyes lit up as she took in the sight.

“This is cute. Blythe and I have walked by this place a few times.”

Inside, we were seated in a snug booth that creaked pleasantly under the weight of memories from previous dinners. The atmosphere was relaxed—no pretentiousness, just a place that felt like a well-kept secret in downtown Wippowa. I watched as Rose settled into her seat, her expression a mix of wonder and ease, and I felt that familiar nervous excitement flutter in my chest, even though I kept reminding myself, “It’s not a date. It’s just a fun night out.”

Our waiter, a cheerful guy with a quick smile and a quirky sense of humor, handed us menus. I noticed Rose scanning the pages with a curious sparkle in her eyes, as if each dish held a promise of something delightful. I couldn’t help but feel proud that I’d chosen this place—one I’d come to love over countless family visits.

Before we even ordered, the conversation took a playful turn. I leaned over and said, “So, what are you in the mood for? Something light or something that’ll make you forget all about the farm for a while?”

Rose’s laugh was soft but genuine. “Honestly? I’d love to forget about being responsible tonight.”

I leaned back, intrigued. “What’s your go-to drink?” Up until now, the only thing I’d ever seen her drink was wine—the night her ex called her.

“Ideally? Bourbon, neat.”

My brow lifted. “You’re serious?”

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her lips quirking in amusement. “Yeah. I know, it’s probably not what you’re used to hearing from a lady as proper as myself, but I love it.” She paused, her gaze flickering somewhere distant. “The night I turned twenty-one, my dad poured us two glasses, and we sat outside talking about life. It was one of those nights you never forget, you know?”

There was something wistful in her voice, a quiet longing that settled between us. This was the first time she had ever mentioned her parents.

I nodded, understanding more than I cared to admit. Some memories—good or bad—become part of you, etched so deeply that you carry them forever.