“Why do you think I drove out there that morning? To talk to you. But Les . . .”

Now they were getting somewhere. “Les said some things he shouldn’t have. And I didn’t say the things I should have. But I want to know why you didn’t tell me the one thing that mattered. That you’d decided to stay in Muddy Gap.”

“Because I didn’t know it at the time.”

“And when you figured it out? Why didn’t you share that information with me?”

“Because I hadn’t heard one word from you, Bran. No phone call. Nothing. The job was over. I didn’t think you cared.”

Bran loomed over her. “Bullshit. You know I care. My damn cell phone met the business end of a shovel. I told Bailey about it when I ...” His eyes searched hers. “She didn’t tell you I stopped by, did she?”

“No. But it doesn’t matter now.”

“Yes, it does. You are more to me than a damn employee. You knew that as soon as I found out you were hiding up here, I’d come for you. I’d chase you down, like you were always hoping I’d do, and then I’d bring you back where you belong.”

“Which is where?”

“With me. And here’s a news flash for you. I didn’t get a chance to talk to you about this stuff the morning after your karaoke win because Les showed up. Then you were gone for damn near three days. When you finally came out to the ranch, you let me believe you only cared about your paycheck.”

Understanding dawned in her eyes. “But—”

“Goddammit, Harper, I wanted to tell you how I felt about you, but you deserved to hear it in private—not in front of Les.”

Harper mumbled something about excuses.

Bran curled one hand over her hip, one hand around the side of her beautiful face, and took the biggest chance of his life. “No more excuses. I love you, Harper Masterson. I love everything about you.”

Did she throw herself into his arms and sob that she loved him too? Did she kiss him with the fire and sweetness he craved?

No.

The damn woman stepped back and said, “Prove it.”

His body stiffened. “What? I just told you I love you and now you want me to prove it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?”

Those golden brown eyes spit fire. “Is that it, Bran? You’ve decided you love me because I’m conveniently nearby? What would you’ve done if I’d moved to Laramie? Would you’ve tracked me down and dragged me back where I belong?”

“How the devil am I supposed to answer that?”

“Let me know when you figure it out.” She flounced off.

Flounced. Like a damn beauty queen in a snit.

Which she was.

Dammit.

He’d done this all wrong.

Big surprise.

He shouted, “I’ll be back, Harper. Mark my words. I. Will. Be. Back.”

Bran seethed even as he was half giddy from the knowledge he hadn’t lost her.

Didn’t know her, my ass.

He knew her. Backward, forward, inside out, upside down and sideways.

He loved her.

And yes, he had every intention of tracking her down.

He’d prove it to her. Might take him a day or two to sort the wheat from the chaff, but he couldn’t wait to make that woman eat crow.

And then he wasn’t ever going to let her go.

“How much longer are you going to make the poor man suffer, Harper?” Janie asked.

Bran wasn’t the only one suffering.

She’d wondered how Bran would react when he learned she hadn’t moved out of state, just up the road. Happy? Indifferent? Angry?

Yeah, he’d been angry.

She missed him. Three months didn’t seem like enough time to figure out if you liked someone, let alone if you loved them. But she loved Bran. She knew him, heart and soul, straight down to the bone. And like Janie had reminded her, she deserved to know if that depth of feeling, of commitment, was reciprocated.

When she’d told him to prove it, she’d half expected that he would scoop her into his arms and drag her off, keeping her captive until she admitted she loved him too. It was the sort of Neanderthal tactics she’d expected.

So why was she disappointed that he hadn’t reacted that way?

Two days after he’d left Split Rock in a huff, she’d feared he’d given up. She wondered if she’d been too hasty, too haughty.

On the dawn of day three, when Harper convinced herself she’d ruined everything by pushing Bran into a corner, a van arrived in front of her trailer—a van filled with lilacs. Every color of lilac imaginable; deep amethyst, vivid purple, lavender, pale pink, and creamy white. And every bouquet was in a different-colored jewel-toned vase.

Bran remembering her favorite flower earned serious brownie points.

Yesterday morning, the same van delivered a dozen doughnuts—crème-filled Bavarian, croissants covered in chocolate glaze, cake doughnuts with pink icing, long johns with rainbow-colored sprinkles—and a pot of strong coffee. At noon the van dropped off lunch—crab salad, fruit, sweet tea, and key lime cheesecake. She hadn’t known what to expect when the van returned at suppertime. Steak? Lobster? Veal? Pasta?

Lifting the silver-domed plate warmer revealed . . . pepperoni pizza. And in the champagne bucket? Wine coolers. The afternoon they’d stayed naked in bed just talking, laughing, feeding each other pizza and drinking “bitch beer” ranked as one of the best times she’d had with him.