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I glance up. Serena gives me a pointed look.

“See,” she says.

Biting back my smile, I shrug, because she’s right. My whole body sinks as the knot in my stomach eases when he walks into the room.

“What?” Coen asks, looking between us.

“Nothing,” says Serena, jumping down and circling the counter to grab the plates. “She just likes you.”

“I sure hope she does at this point,” he says.

He goes upstairs after I assure him I’ve got everything handled. The shower runs in the hall bathroom. Serena finishes setting the table and says she’s going to do a check on the barn before dinner. At peace, I finish the spaghetti and throw some garlic bread into the oven. When Coen comes downstairs, he’s all warm from the shower, and his hair looks ten times sexier wet. It’ll be a late night for us.

Jamie comes back. They talk in the living room. I think about how nice it would be if Serena and Jamie somehow ended up together, despite my reservations. We could all live here on the ranch, and every night could be like this, peaceful and homey. I could make sure Serena’s alright, and Jamie can make sure Coen’s fine.

The problem with that is, deep down, I know Serena needs to have her own version of my road trip to Nashville.

It’s only fair.

Everyone is civil once we sit down and start eating. Coen opens some red wine, and I pour everyone just enough to relieve the tension between Jamie and Serena. By the time we hit second helpings, they’re both smiling and talking like they weren’t at each other’s throats an hour ago. I suspect that’s because they aren’t really mad, just confused.

“I’ll clean up,” says Serena.

“Thanks,” I say. “You want to help me lock up the barn, Coen?”

He nods, and we head outside. I’m not sure how good of an idea it is to leave those two in there, but like Coen said, this isn’t my problem to solve. Hell, maybe it isn’t even a problem. I interlace my fingers with his and follow him out to the yard. The sun has lowered, hovering right above the horizon. Distantly, the wranglers hoot and holler in the bunkhouse.

“You get along with everybody else?” I ask.

“How’d you mean?”

“The other wranglers?”

He shrugs, ambling so I can keep up with him. “Yeah, you know I was a cowboy first before I did the music thing.”

“I didn’t forget. You still fuck like a cowboy.”

He laughs, head back. “Oh yeah?”

“Ooh yeah.”

“But yeah, I get along fine with everybody.”

We’re quiet. The hard warmth of his palm is so calming. We enter the barn, and I barely do more than follow at his heels while he measures out feed and checks every stall. Then, we lock up and start back across the lawn. Through the kitchen window, I can see the outlines of Jamie and Serena. It looks like they’re talking a lot and doing a little bit of cleaning up. That’s fine with me. It’ll get done when it gets done.

That puts a smile on my face.

“You want to sit on a porch a bit?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

We circle the house and sink down on the steps. The Maligators rest by the door, sprawled out and soaking up the last heat of the day. The Kid comes over briefly and licks Coen’s hand, nuzzling it for a few scratches. He flops back down and starts snoring again.

Coen sits on the step behind me, one arm around my neck. He rests his chin on the top of my head. “Never let me leave,” he says softly.

“What’s that mean?”

“It means, deep down, I’ll always want to work and write, but I never want to leave home base.”