Page 54 of Saltwater Cowboy

I’ll stay long enough to get on my feet, save what I can, and then move back home where I belong. Where things make sense.

Because whatever this is—whatever he is—none of it makes sense at all.

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

I watched as Rose took in her room, her gaze sweeping over the space. I wondered if she silently judged the overly floral comforter on the bed—she didn’t strike me as the type who’d appreciate pink roses and ruffled edges. It was the only one I could find in the closet where my mom stashed the extra linens.

A flicker of sadness crossed her face. This wasn’t what she wanted. I didn’t know the full story, but Wren had mentioned an ex-boyfriend who was supposed to move here with her. I could only imagine how badly that had screwed up her plans—and how much it had messed her up. Was that why she cried on the plane? Had it happened that day?

What a dick.

“The bathroom’s right there.” I nodded toward the door beside mine. “It’s all yours. I won’t go in.”

Her eyes met mine briefly. “Thanks.”

“There are towels in the linen closet. Take whatever you need.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Want me to put ‘em on your bed?” I gestured toward her suitcases.

Rose rolled her eyes. “Your accent is going to get old really fast.”

“Ain’t much we can do about that, eh, Sunshine?”

“Stop calling me that,” she muttered through gritted teeth, dropping to her knees to unzip a suitcase.

I smirked. “Dinner will be ready soon.” Then I pulled the door shut behind me and headed downstairs.

In the kitchen, I grabbed a cutting board and laid out the steaks. Then it hit me.

Shit. Does she even eat meat?

I pulled out my phone and fired off a text.

Wells: Do you like steak?

Rose: Yes.

Good. One less thing to worry about.

I resumed my prep, sliding the baked potatoes into the oven before stepping outside to fire up the grill. The scent of charcoal and salt-kissed air mixed as I laid the steaks over the flames, the sizzle breaking the quiet. I tossed on a handful of fresh vegetables from today’s haul, the colors vibrant against the heat.

As the steaks seared, I leaned against the porch railing, watching the last light fade over the fields. The quiet hum of crickets filled the air, blending with the distant sound of waves rolling onto the shore. Wippowa had a way of settling into a person—slow and steady, just like the tide.

I flipped the steaks, the smoky aroma curling up around me. Inside, I heard faint movement—Rose unpacking, probably trying to make sense of this place, this situation.

A timer chimed from the kitchen. I pulled the potatoes from the oven, their crisped skins giving under the press of my thumb. I grabbed plates and cups out of the cabinet and set the table. I stepped back and looked at the table, it was weird seeing two place settings. Something I knew not to get used to because I don’t think Rose will last long.

A good meal wouldn’t fix everything, but it was something. A small peace offering.

I made my way back upstairs and paused at her door. The movement had stopped and all I could hear were sniffles. Rose was crying.

I exhaled slowly, my hand hovering over her door. Knocking felt like an intrusion but ignoring it didn’t sit right either.

She hadn’t asked to be here. Hadn’t wanted to start over in a strange place with someone I didn’t really know. Whatever happened before she landed in Wippowa had cracked something deep, and now she was trying to hold the pieces together.

I left her be and texted her to let her know there was food when she was ready.