Besides showing up at her trailer, throwing himself at her feet and confessing his love for her? Begging her to stay?

That’d be a good place to start. Problem was, it needed to be more than a fifteen-minute conversation between his emergency calls, and that was all the time he had to spare right now.

He could call her back and apologize. Tell her he knew they needed to talk. That at least wouldn’t leave this void hanging between them.

Fletch reached for the phone only to have it ring. Jet Eriksen’s name popped up on the screen. He let it ring again before he answered. “Hey, Jet. What’s up?”

“You don’t want to know. I’ve got a remote emergency call and I won’t be done in time for our dinner tonight.”

“So you’re calling off the meet?” He had the hope that the dinner would be cancelled yet again and he could track down Tanna immediately after his last call.

“No. Tasha is still going. Artie will probably be missing too; his assistant said he ran into complications at his last call. I still think it’d be good for you and Tasha to talk. If either Artie or I finish early, we’ll show up. Either way, I’ll keep in touch.”

“Good enough. Thanks for letting me know.” After Fletch disconnected, he called his answering service and retrieved the message. A quick stop, the client promised. But Fletch knew if the client was calling late on a Saturday afternoon it wouldn’t be routine.

He glanced at the clock and sighed. He had a lot to do in the next three hours before he met up with his potential business partner.

The only way he could get through this day would be to do the one thing he’d asked Tanna not to do to him: compartmentalize. Put the lid on his anger, shove the box to the back of his mind and do his job.

But he would deal with Tanna first thing tomorrow.

Tanna didn’t spend a ton of time fussing with her appearance. She showered, let her hair fall loose, slipped on a denim dress, her championship buckle and her angel wing cowgirl boots.

She’d be freaking out about the blowup with Fletch if she wasn’t already obsessing over this meeting. She’d have to tell the Gradskys the truth. Telling a little white lie that everything had been fine in those months she was out of the spotlight and before moving to Wyoming was doing a disservice to all she’d learned and overcome in the past three months.

The Cattleman’s Club parking lot was jammed on a Saturday night. Inside the busy restaurant, the hostess led her to a table in the back. Chuck started to get up when he saw her, but she waved him down. “Please sit. I’m happy to see Southern gentleman manners in a Northerner.”

“Spoken like a true Texan.”

“Guilty.”

“Sutton called. Something came up and he won’t be joining us.”

They made polite conversation for a few minutes until the waitress delivered their drinks. Toast done, they focused on the menu in silence.

Tanna had such a bout of nerves, and was still reeling over the conversation with Fletch, that she needed something to calm her down. A shot of tequila ought to do the trick. She excused herself and cut to the bar.

As she waited for the bartender, Tanna looked around the restaurant and froze when she noticed Fletch at another table. He wore that beautiful smile and was wholly engaged with his dinner companion—a female companion.

What the f**k? What happened to his claim that he’d be out answering calls until the wee hours? Why had he lied to her? Why had he picked a goddamned fight with her and let her stew? As an excuse to have dinner with someone else? And what were the odds they’d end up in the same restaurant? Pretty good considering Rawlins had about four places to eat that didn’t have a drive-through.

Her emotions teetered between fury and betrayal as she watched Fletch with the blonde, their heads bent close in serious conversation. The location of the booth, and their position in it, indicated they’d chosen it for privacy. Plus, Fletch wore the cowboy hat that kept his face in shadow—and it was highly doubtful he’d worn it because he was worried about getting interrupted for veterinary advice during his intimate dinner. When the woman grinned, and squeezed Fletch’s hand, Tanna had to look away.

Skulking in the shadows made her feel ridiculous, childish and like a stalker. She oughta march up to the table and demand to know what was going on. The balls to the wall, take no shit Tanna would be dragging that woman out of the restaurant by the hair, and beating the tar out of her in the parking lot.

Yeah, that’d make a great impression on the Gradskys. Sneaking off to do a shot of tequila and then starting a hair-pulling fight in a restaurant with a woman she didn’t know. As much as her heart ached and her blood boiled, she had to forget about Fletch and focus on why she was here.

Tanna left the bar without ordering the shot and returned to Chuck and Berlin. “Sorry. Saw someone I knew. Now, before you guys offer me anything, there are a few things you oughta know about me, and what’s happened in my life the last two and a half years.”

Chuck and Berlin listened attentively. At one point Berlin reached out and put her hand over Tanna’s. By the time she finished the story, the waitress had given up on taking their order.

Silence lingered, not a particularly comfortable silence.

When Berlin said, “I’m just going to see where our waitress ran off to,” and Chuck followed her, Tanna had a sinking feeling. She’d probably been too honest. Sutton should’ve been here to kick her under the table.

Excruciating minutes passed until Chuck and Berlin returned. A waitress appeared and Tanna rattled off food without really knowing what she’d ordered.