They stood there in the darkness for several long seconds, neither of them in a hurry to leave, and Cody felt something between them shift. The pretense and caution disappeared and left in their place a connection so deep he thought it might unravel him.

He didn’t want to hate her anymore. He didn’t hate her anymore.

But in place of that anger he’d carried with him was a feeling much more disturbing—affection. True, honest, genuine affection for her. He wanted to know everything about her. He wanted to spend all his free time with her. He wanted to go out with her and stay in with her, and man, if he didn’t want to kiss her senseless right now.

“I should probably get going.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Did she feel it too?

Was it wrong to pray for rain, just to have a reason to drive her home, to prolong this goodbye? “Yeah, me too.”

She smiled. A kind smile. A polite smile. An I-can’t-tell-what-you’re-thinking smile. It nearly did him in.

This was bad. Get-out-of-town bad. He needed to put some distance between them—fast. He took a step away from her before he did anything he’d regret, like scoop her into his arms and take her home with him.

“See you tomorrow.”

He hurried into his Jeep and started the engine, then drove off without looking back. She’d always had the ability to cast a strange sort of spell over him—it made him act irrationally and led to terrible decisions. He needed to remember that this was why he didn’t let himself get all brainless over women. Ever. It was also why he didn’t drink alcohol or do drugs.

Cody had decided a long time ago never to lose his focus again—and love, as intoxicating as it was, led to a loss of focus. And that led to disaster.

He drove into town. He was hungry, and he needed to clear his head. He knew a lot of the guys hung out at the Rose & Crown, a bar downtown, and they probably had burgers, so he parked the Jeep and went inside.

Music blasted through mounted speakers, dampening the din of chatter. He looked around at the crowd and spotted a single face he recognized—McKenzie Palmer.

Cody wasn’t stupid. He knew plenty of women like McKenzie, and he could tell she was into him. Under different circumstances, he might’ve cared, but if he were honest with himself, the only person he spent any time thinking about was the redhead he’d just left standing alone in Maggie’s yard.

McKenzie wasn’t one for taking hints, though. In fact, it seemed his disinterest in her only made him more appealing. She spotted him and waved. She might’ve even squealed—it was too loud to tell for sure. She hopped off her barstool and sashayed toward him.