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I looked back at Beau. He was already headed for the mudroom, giving me privacy without making a thing out of it.

“Yeah. I’ve got five.”

Lauren didn’t waste them. Her company was expanding its western events team. They wanted a lead coordinator who could handle festivals, corporate events, and destination weekends across multiple states. I’d worked with enough of their people that they knew what I could do, and they were offering me a twelve-month contract.

The money was better than I expected. The travel schedule wasn’t. I’d be on the road three weeks every month, sometimes four during the busy season. Montana, Colorado, Wyoming, Idaho, Utah, and anywhere else a client signed a contract. They would cover flights, hotels, rental cars, and a monthly stipend for a home office I’d barely use.

A year ago, I would’ve accepted before Lauren even covered the salary.

“Your start date would be the Monday after your festival closes,” she said. “I know that’s fast, but we’d need you in Denver Tuesday for onboarding.”

I looked through the front window. Beau crossed the yard toward the barn with his jacket unzipped and his hands in his pockets. Hank stood at the fence waiting for him.

“Caroline?”

“I’m here.”

“I’ll need an answer by next weekend. I can send the formal contract today.”

“I’ll look it over.”

“Please do. We really want you.”

Being wanted for a job had always felt good. Someone needed a mess handled, and I knew how to handle it. That used to be enough.

“Thanks, Lauren.”

We hung up, and the contract arrived in my email before I made it back to the kitchen. Twelve months. Better money. Bigger events. Exactly the kind of opportunity I’d spent years building toward.

The start date sat in bold halfway down the first page.

Monday.

The back door opened, and Beau came in carrying the jacket I’d left on the fence earlier. He crossed the kitchen and draped the jacket over the back of my chair. “Who was on the phone?”

I closed the email. “Work.”

He waited for another second, then nodded. That was all. No pushing. No asking who’d called or why my face probably looked different than it had ten minutes ago.

He trusted me to tell him if I wanted to. So why didn’t I?

I looked at the jacket on the chair, then at the closed contract on my phone.

“I should get back to town,” I said. “I’ve got a vendor call at two.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

Outside, Beau opened the door to my SUV while I tossed my bag onto the passenger seat. One of his flannels was already there from the other morning when I’d forgotten to give it back.

I picked it up. “I keep stealing your clothes.”

“As long as you bring it back.”

The answer was casual. So was the kiss he gave me before shutting my door. I watched him head toward the barn before I started the engine.

Bring it back. When was I supposed to do that? The Monday I flew to Denver?

CHAPTER 9