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The thought felt like a bruise that I kept poking just to see if it still hurt.

We were halfway down the main path, the Ferris wheel just ahead, when Hattie abruptly stopped. I almost crashed into her. “What are you⁠—”

Sterling was standing dead center in the space between the booths in front of us, sweat darkening the fabric of his shirt. His hat was still low, the wide brim shadowing his eyes, but not enough to hide the fact that they were once again on me.

Hattie said a soft little “Oh, this is good” under her breath.

“Don’t,” I whispered.

“I’m not doing anything,” she whispered back. “In fact, I’m leaving.”

Before I could stop her, she slapped a hand to her chest and announced loudly, “Well! I’m gonna go find a corn dog!” Then she pivoted and disappeared into the crowd like she’d trained for it.

Traitor.

Sterling didn’t move at first. He simply watched me walk toward him, because apparently my feet had obtained a mind of their own. Every step sent that same flutter through my stomach that I hadn’t once consented to having.

When I finally stopped a few feet away, I became painfully aware of how I must look—jeans Hattie had bullied me into, plain tee, hair in a messy knot that had been far cuter when I first left the inn. I probably had dust on my face and kettle corn salt on my fingers.

He looked…like he did on that bull. Contained violence wrapped in a denim-clad, godlike body. Plus there was the fact that I knew what he looked like under that shirt now and that wasn’t helping me at all.

“Hi,” I said awkwardly, because my brain had abandoned me.

“Hi,” he echoed. The word came out husky, the scrape of it over my skin making something inside me shiver.

We stood there in the mess of people, this tight little silence stretching between us.

“Nice ride,” I finally blurted, then immediately wanted to fling myself into the nearest livestock pen and let a donkey trample me to death. Or maybe a goat. That would probably hurt less.

One side of his mouth curved, barely, in that half smile thing he did that might have been a new wonder of the world.

“Not that I was really watching you,” I lied. “I was mostly admiring the bull’s…uh…posture.”

“His posture,” he repeated, something like laughter flickering in his eyes, softening them to a bright, silvery blue beneath the brim of his hat.

“Yes, very athletic. Hattie mentioned you hadn’t done that in a while,” I added. “What made you jump back on the bull tonight?”

He cocked his head, like he was in on a joke I wasn’t. “I was trying not to do something I shouldn’t,” he said.

I swallowed, blinking a few times, and tried to ignore the innuendo in his voice. “Like what? Tax fraud? Starting a pyramid scheme? Buying nonrefundable airline tickets?” I teased nervously.

His gaze dropped to my mouth for half a heartbeat, then back up. “Something like that.”

I should’ve walked away right then. I should’ve remembered I was done with men forever and turned in the other direction. Instead, I heard myself ask, “Are you…uh…headed somewhere?”

“Yeah.” He paused. “I was.”

“Was?”

He took a half step closer, not enough to close the distance, just enough that I could feel his heat. Breathe in his mix of sweat and soap wrapped around a darker, sexier scent underneath, the kind of thing that made your lungs think about giving out.

“Walk with me?” he murmured.

They were simple words. Too simple.

Men had asked me to go places my entire life—into parties and meetings and locked rooms. Into weddings and futures and houses that were never really mine. It had always felt like being collected. Positioned.

This felt…different.