Page 96 of Saltwater Cowboy

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I guess it doesn’t feel real.”

“Well, it is.” He leaned back on his elbows, gazing up at the sky. “And you’re gonna be damn good at it.”

Something in my chest tightened. People had encouraged me before, sure. But Wells wasn’t just throwing out empty words. He actually believed it. In me.

I turned my head to look at him. “Why do you care?”

He smirked, but it wasn’t his usual cocky grin. It was softer. “Just do.”

I swallowed, suddenly feeling warmer than the Georgia sun should’ve allowed.

“Now,” he continued, breaking the moment before it got too serious. “What are we naming this empire of yours? ‘Sunshine & Stems’? ‘Petals & Poor Life Choices’?”

I snorted. “Absolutely not.”

“Well, that’s just rude. I worked hard on those.”

I shook my head, but I was smiling. Maybe Wells Calloway was a good guy and maybe I was starting to trust him.

SPIN YOU AROUND

I won’t lie—there was something downright distracting about Rose wearing my cowboy hat. The way she kept it on for the rest of the day did something to me. Couldn’t say if it was the hat, the boots, or just the way she carried herself, but damn if she wasn’t starting to look like a proper coastal cowgirl.

And that was dangerous.

Because the more she looked the part, the harder it was to remember she wasn’t staying. She made that abundantly clear. As soon as she was able to, she was good as gone.

I caught myself watching her more than I should’ve—tucking stray petals into a basket, brushing dirt off her jeans, tipping the brim of my hat like she’d been born knowing how. And the worst part? She didn’t even realize she was doing it.

“Quit staring, Calloway.” She smirked without looking up. “You’re making me nervous.”

I leaned against the fence post, crossing my arms. “I wasn’t staring. I was admiring.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Big difference.”

“Sure is,” I said easily. “One’s rude. The other’s just good manners.”

She shook her head, fighting a smile. “You are impossible.”

“And yet,” I said, pushing off the post and stepping closer, “you’re still here.”

That wiped the smirk right off her face. Not in a bad way. Just in a way that made me wonder if she was feeling the same slow pull I was.

She glanced away, fiddling with the brim of my hat like she suddenly wasn’t sure if she should be wearing it. “I should probably give this back.”

“Keep it,” I said before I could think better of it. “I have more inside.”

Her gaze snapped to mine. “Seriously?”

I shrugged. “Looks better on you.”

She studied me, like she was trying to figure out if I was messing with her. I wasn’t.

And when she gave a small nod and settled the hat back on her head, something in my chest tightened.

I was in trouble.

Big, damn trouble.