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He murmurs, "Darlin', don't get me all worked up when I'm trying to be good."

I softly laugh, and we settle into an easier conversation about our families until a different worry starts nagging me. "Can I bring up another non-flirty thing?"

"You're on a roll tonight," he teases.

I blurt out, "You're overpaying me, Jagger."

He blinks, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

"I gave my rate to Roy, and he hung up on me, then called me back and gave me the new number. A much higher one." Guilt haunts me. I twist the stem of my wineglass between two fingers, meeting his eyes. "I don't need charity. I'm good at my job. I don't need to be paid like I'm rescuing the ranch just because I happen to be Charlie's mother."

"You are rescuing the ranch. Renegade and Two-Step are worth more than that rate on one race, easy, if they heal right." His brow furrows. "This has nothing to do with Charlie."

"You sure about that?"

"Of course. I knew nothing about Charlie or that it was you before I agreed to the price. Roy made that offer without knowing we had a kid together either. So that number's got nothing to do with our situation."

"It's too much," I argue.

He studies me for a second, calculation flickering behind his eyes. "What number did you actually quote him?"

Hot guilt creeps up my neck. I wince. "Two-hundred thousand."

Jagger goes quiet for a moment, and then, slow at first and building fast, he starts to laugh. His head tips back against the booth, loud enough that a couple two tables over glances our way.

"What's so funny?"

"That's Roy." He wipes at his eyes, still chuckling. "That man can lowball anybody. He'll haggle a cattle price down to the penny, but the second he wants somebody specific working for him, he throws money at the problem until it goes away. Should've known he'd do that with you too."

"It's not funny. It makes me feel like I'm ripping you off."

"Oh, stop it. You deserve every dollar of it. If Roy offered you more, it's because he already knew exactly how much risk he was asking you to take on, uprooting your whole life on the strength of one phone call. That's not charity, Lainey. That's a man paying for what he actually needs."

"You should just pay me what I asked for."

"Absolutely not." The response comes out sharp. "You worked years building the skill that makes you worth that number. Don't discount yourself because it makes you uncomfortable to be valued properly. That's not humility, that's just underselling yourself, and I'm not going to sit here and watch you do it."

My heart pounds harder.

"Stop worrying." He tips my chin up with two fingers until I'm looking right at him. "And stop doubting your worth, Lainey. You deserve good things happening to you. All of it. The job, the rate, tonight. Most of all me." He grins and wiggles his eyebrows.

I laugh, but I also know it's not just about the money. Some part of me knows that even as I sit here arguing over dollar amounts. It's easier to feel guilty about a paycheck than it is to feel guilty about the year I spent building a life that quietly wrote him out of it. It's way easier to fixate on a number than to sit with the discomfort of how much I still don't fully trust good things to stay good.

I'm not ready to hand him that particular truth yet. So I file it away.

We finish the last of the food, our conversation drifting easier again. Jagger finishes the last dozen pieces of sashimi, and the check arrives.

He pays, and mischief fills his expression. "Want to go stargaze?"

A yawn catches me completely off guard. I try to cover it with my hand.

Jagger's expression shifts. "Tired?"

"Sorry. It's not the company. I'm still not fully caught up on sleep from having Charlie. Plus, this is my first real week back at work. Add a giant plate of sushi and wine to that, and apparently my body's decided it's yawning time."

"Don't apologize for that." He slides out of the booth, offering his hand to help me up. "Let's get you home."

"What about stargazing?" I ask, wanting to go and not wanting the night to end.