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“Feather or flower?” Hassie pauses at the hat bar’s long table. Her graceful fingers, nails painted black, hover over my two options. A tray of dried, pressed flowers or an assortment of feathers in all the colors of the rainbow.

I take a deep breath and debate, then say, “Feather.”

“Good choice.” Hassie closes the distance between us and opens the tray. “Which color?”

I lift my champagne. “Pink.”

Yesterday, I ran into Hassie at the Weston stables, where we made plans to meet up at her shop for a girl’s night. Let’s get drunk and make a hat, Hassie proclaimed, and so here we are. After hours, her hat bar closed, country music blasting on the speaker, her fully stocked bar ravaged.

After a month of living in Tempest, it’s nice to have a friend. To feel a small slice of belonging.

“You’re gonna knock ’em dead.” Hassie takes the soft fawn-colored hat I’ve selected and lifts a steamer. “New cowgirl in town, won’t know what hit ’em.” There’s a loud burst of air as she bathes the hat in steam.

I think back to the conversation I overheard at Meadowlark Market. “People are talking.”

“People always talk. You can’t let the assholes bother you. They live for the gossip grapevine almost as much as hunting season.” She snorts and swallows a sip of her whiskey. “Let me guess, big hair, fake tan?” When I nod, she says, “That’s Deputy Craddock’s wife, Lisette. She’s one of those girls that peaked in high school.”

Despite the gossip, I like Tempest. It’s weird, quirky, creepy, but it’s also charming. Main Street has worked its magic on me. The distillery, the ranch, and the Creek House feel like home. Every time I steal away to visit Otis and Neon Star, I feel at peace.

As if she’s read my mind, Hassie asks, “How do you like the Westons?”

I blush. I haven’t seen Cole in three days, not since our kiss.

“Biting that lip so hard you’re tasting blood,” Hassie observes.

“No. Just thinking about a cowboy,” I admit.

Hassie whistles. “Who isn’t? Those Weston boys are trouble.” She cocks her head, asks, “Which one’s claimed your heart?” Though her tone is curious, it’s also edged.

“Not my heart.” I giggle. I tell her about leaving my panties in Cole’s jacket pocket and her eyes bug out.

She doubles over, cackling. “Holy fucking shit, Delilah. If that doesn’t de-grump that man, nothing will.”

We share a giggle, then Hassie says, “Well, if you picked Cole, he’s the safest bet.”

My heart speeds up just hearing Cole’s name.

Safe. That’s how the man makes me feel.

Like nothing and no one could ever touch me.

I think of the strange palm print on the glass of my screen door. I so badly want to tell him everything, but if I do, that pulls him into my mess. Maybe it’s reckless keeping it to myself, but I don’t want to give the Westons more trouble. I’m not their responsibility. My troubles are my own. Besides, it was probably a guest from the distillery, lost on the ranch.

Once again, my mind drifts back to that morning. Cole’s kiss put me on the clouds. I still don’t think my feet have touched the ground since. We’ve kept our distance, probably a smart idea, but I miss him.

“Every woman in town wants to claim a Weston.”

“Why’s that?” I ask breathlessly, returning from my thoughts.

“Because they like a challenge. And none of those men have ever been wrangled.”

“What about Ezra? I mean, he has Evangeline. Was he ever—”

“Married?” Hassie’s eyes are hard. Protective. “Thank fuck no.” I listen as she tells me about Ezra’s ex, Shannon. “She fell in with the wrong crowd. In Tempest that’s the easy thing to do. Drugs. Drinking. Then she got pregnant. Ezra loved her, and he did everything he could, but…some people don’t want help.”

“Was Evvie okay?” I ask softly.

“She was. That bitch was fucking high when she went into labor.” Tipping her chin down, Hassie stares at the feather she twirls between her fingers. “I could have killed that woman. Everyone could have. Anyway, a couple of weeks later, Shannon signed over parental rights to Ez and left town.” An exaggerated scoffs pops out of her mouth. “Good fucking riddance.” Hassie nods and looks at me. “Ez never got over that kind of betrayal. It’s why he’s so…buttoned-up, ya know?” Hassie moves down the hat bar. “But he has us to help with Evvie. Even if he is an idiot and never wants to ask for it.”