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He scrubs a hand down his face and looks in the direction of his friends. Then at Tessa. He looks spent. “Okay. Give me a minute.”

“Sorry, First Thursdays are probably supposed to be when you let off steam, not get more stressed out,” I say.

He cocks his head. “How’d you know about First Thursdays?”

“At the vintage store when we met up. I heard you mention it on the phone.”

He nods slowly, finally understanding that me being here tonight is no coincidence. And maybe understanding that I’m trying to make it easier for him to be casual in public with me by showing up, rather than planning some stilted performance.

“Thank you,” he says. “This is all…” He slaps a hand on the back of his neck, and I watch the squinty anguish in his eyes dissolve into something that almost looks relaxed. “Just thank you.”

“Anytime, Cattle Cutie.”

“Jesus, do you have a list of these nicknames written down somewhere?”

I wink. “Nope, but that’s a good idea.”

He slaps his forehead. “Note to self, don’t give Callie ideas.”

“Introduce me!” I stage whisper and squeeze his bicep. It’s fully for my benefit, but his eyes dilate a tiny bit when I do it. I take a small amount of pleasure in knowing he’s not completely immune to me.

“Fine. Let me meet your sister first, and then I’ll come drag you over.” He turns his back, and I don’t deny myself a single second of watching him walk away. When I go back to our table, Tessa is chomping on potato skins and is shaking her head.

“When a cowboy looks at you like that, he’s down bad. Trust me, I’d know.” She doesn’t even wait to swallow.

I scoop some sour cream onto one of the bacon-and-cheese-stuffed skins and take a bite, moaning at how good it tastes. I wash it down with some beer, wondering why anyone would bother eating anything other than this particular combination all the time.

“Oh, good. If you thought it looked real, his friends will buy it too.” I put my second beer down next to the other one that’s nearly untouched. “Yes, I’m collecting unfinished beers apparently.”

Tessa looks over to where Luke and his friends are now sitting around their table. We have a side view of Luke, who’s talking to the guy next to him. He’s mostly doing a lot of nodding with his arms crossed in typical broody cowboy guy fashion, but then I catch him glance over to our table.

Tessa and I immediately avert our eyes and burst into a fit of giggles. I hold up a menu to block our ridiculous, schoolgirl reaction. A moment later, I drop the menu and sneak a glance his way, but Luke has gone back to the conversation with his friend. I scoot my chair to the side so I’ll be less tempted to stare directly at him.

“Saying it again, that’s not fake,” Tessa says again. I nod and sip one of the beers.

“Right? I’m sure we can convince a judge we’re legit. And he can teach me some ranching things that will help me market Loveland. Win-win.”

I study the menu even though I’m pretty sure the plate of potato skins is plenty of food. Then I notice Tessa sitting back in her chair with her arms crossed. “Is that supposed to be your impression of Luke? Because you’d need to scowl more.”

“Are you really going to sit here and pretend this is all for show?”

“Me and Luke? Yes, it’s a hundred percent for show.”

“Please. He’s totally your type,” she insists.

“What type is that? Growly, stubborn and unavailable?” I think about my last few boyfriends. The graphic artist who rode away to Mexico on his motorcycle with another guy two years ago. The animal rights activist who slept on the floor so his dog could have the bed and only wanted sex standing up. The moody man-child who lived with his mom to save money to buy a bee farm, then broke up with me by text. “Well, yeah, he’s probably about as good a candidate as any, but no, nothing is going on between us.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What’s the point?” I ask as I take another loaded bite of potato.

“Do you want there to be something between you?”

I should give her a definitive answer and shut this conversation down. But this is the question I’ve been thinking about ever since Luke reached out and kept me from falling off the bucket at the vintage store.

“The normal me would have some fun with him, sure, but trust me, dating is the last thing he wants.”

“I agree.”