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“Unbelievable,” I mutter while plotting revenge for her. “None of them deserve to breathe the same air as you. Those scars don’t define you, but they prove you’re a survivor. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Wildflower.”

“Uh-huh.”

Guilt punches me again, harder than ever. “I should’ve been there for you.”

“You should’ve done a lot of things. Wishful thinking doesn’t change the past.” She’s not giving me an inch, but I don’t let that discourage me.

My instincts led me astray once. Superstitions are more unreliable than my deadbeat dad. Trusting anything except my feelings for Gemma is a mistake I won’t make again.

This is my second chance. I’ll do whatever it takes to win her over. If that means butting heads until we’re both down with migraines, I’ll be by her side with Excedrin. I’m in it for the long haul.

And that means we need to fill in a lot of gaps.

“How’s Big Red?”

The mention of her old Chevy pickup doesn’t crack her stony expression. “Still kickin’.”

“Did you ever find out who hit you?” Whenever I’ve tried to get answers, radio silence mocks me and my absence. Much like now.

Gemma flattens her lips into a firm, nonnegotiable line. “I don’t want to talk about the accident.”

“Right, of course.” I rock on the soles of my boots while stuffing my hands in my pockets. “This summer has been a scorcher, huh?”

“Even you can do better than discussing the weather.”

“Tough crowd.” The urge to sulk hunches my shoulders, dropping me closer to her. “Do you want to grab dinner? My treat.”

“Oh, quit it. You’re not weaseling a date out of me.” Gemma nudges me out of her bubble.

“We don’t have to call it a date,” I mutter.

“I refuse to lead you on.”

“You’re not leading me anywhere I don’t want to go.” My gaze locks onto hers, demanding that she pays attention. “Do you not see me standing here? I’d love nothing more than to show you how special you are. You mean everything to me.”

She laughs as if I told a joke. The cackled pitch is loud and fake enough to draw at least a dozen stares. “That’s richer than the Benson fortune.”

My flexed jaw ticks. “I’m serious.”

“It’s sweet that you waited all this time to confess. Are you finally getting tired of sleeping around? You expect me to hop in your bed and keep it warm. Is that why you called me your future wife?”

Now would be a great opportunity to spill my biggest secret, but it gets lodged in my throat along with my dwindling pride. “It’s not what you think.”

She crosses her arms loosely against her chest, reclining against the bar as if settling in. “Feel free to enlighten me.”

Prickles attack the nape of my neck, reminding me of our captivated audience. “Can we go somewhere more private?”

Gemma snorts. “Absolutely not. Whatever you have to say can’t be worse than giving me a sexually transmitted disease.”

“Wanna bet?”

Her upper lip curls and she whips around on her stool, dismissing me. “Just go. At least you’re good at that.”

A symbolic line is drawn into the frigid gap separating us. This is the point where I choose to back off or storm ahead. The old me would surrender. He’s the reason I’m in this mess. What took me so long to break free is another problem entirely, but I’m not that foolish wimp anymore. This upgraded version doesn’t quit when the odds are stacked against me and fights until I get the girl.

After digging out my phone, I open the digital jukebox app that The Paddock uses. It takes me all of two seconds to find the song I want to play. I use an additional credit to guarantee it’s next in the queue.

When the first notes trickle from the speakers, Gemma visibly shivers. She glares at me over her shoulder. “You didn’t.”