We weaved through the crowd to my office in the back. I opened the door, gestured for her to enter first, then shut and locked it behind us. She looked around, took in the desk, chair, and file cabinet. It was far from interesting. Intentionally. I did my paperwork here, got shit done, then got the hell out of the bar. When I craved the outdoors, which was pretty much every fucking day, I went home to the ranch. There, I had enough acreage to get lost, which I did often enough. And when I was ready to crash… alone, I had the barn I’d converted into my own place.

I might be heading to Mexico for the winter, but the ranch was—and would always be—home.

“I have a favor to ask. I’m not used to asking for help, but I need it.”

I leaned a hip against the edge of my desk, set my hands on the edge. “Shoot.”

She bit her plump lip, then looked at me. “I know the auction was for a date and I appreciate you going to my sister’s wedding with me.”

“But…”

She was nervous about asking this favor. Whatever it was, she thought I wasn’t going to like it.

“I’m baking my sister’s wedding cake and I just found out I need to deliver it on Friday before the bachelorette party.”

I shrugged. No issue there. “Okay. I assumed I’d be driving separately anyway.”

She winced. “Yeah, well… My mother paired me with Franklin Pierce since she thought I didn’t have a date and I told her I had one because… I do not want to be paired with him and—”

“Hold up, sweets.” I raised my hand to cut her off. She hadn’t taken a breath through any of that. “What the hell is ‘paired up’?”

“She found me a date for the entire weekend.”

“A former president?”

Her lips twitched and her shoulders relaxed. “I know, right? He’s as bad as he sounds.” Her mouth dropped and her eyes widened. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I know you and your brothers are named after Mark Twain characters, but I didn’t mean you being bad as you sound. I mean, Thatcher’s a good name. Huckleberry, too, even though I bake muffins named after him… and the fruit.”

I smirked. “It’s okay, sweets. I got it. You don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings. Or Huck’s, for that matter. Ever. I’m good.”

She relaxed and a smile curved her lips, although it wasn’t as bright as when she was talking about McMann’s raspberries.

“Why do you need this ex-president guy? You have a date. Me.”

“Yes, and my mother was very surprised.”

I looked her over trying to figure out why it would be a surprise she was bringing someone.

“Why?”

She frowned. “Why?”