Raylen finished stringing the lights on a section of the fence and fastening them down with clips so the wind wouldn’t blow them halfway to the coast. She was still talking when he went on to the next section and opened the box of lights for that area.

“So you’re on the way to Denton for the next-to-last gig of the year. Are you getting excited about sitting still for the winter?” she asked.

Raylen had so looked forward to spending as much time as he could with Liz that afternoon, and he certainly didn’t like his few hours being interrupted by her old friend.

You are being a big baby. She misses him like a brother, and if you were in her shoes and Becca called, you wouldn’t tell her to hang up and call back later, his conscience scolded him.

Yes, I would. If she cared as much about me as I do her, then she’d want to spend what precious time she could with me. And I wouldn’t care if it made Becca mad at me, he argued.

“You are kidding me! Tell me what happened and don’t leave out a single detail,” Liz said.

She looked up to see Raylen frowning and then he turned around and started toward his truck in long strides.

“Gotta go. Call you later,” she told Blaze and snapped the phone shut. “Okay, I’m ready to get back to work,” she yelled.

He didn’t even turn around, but just opened the truck door like he was leaving.

“What’s the matter with you? Are you sick?” She jogged across the lawn.

“I’m sick of being used,” he said.

She propped her hands on her hips. “What are you talking about?”

“You just spent time on the phone with your friend,” he put air quotes around the last word, “while I kept working on your project. I’m going home. You can finish the job, or maybe your precious Blaze can drive over from Denton and help you.”

She picked up his hat from the porch railing and threw it at him. “Then go! I don’t like or want a jealous man in my life.”

The hat sailed over his head and hit the ground in front of him. He picked it up, slapped the dirt and grass from it, and settled it on his head before he turned around and said with gritted teeth, “Do not ever treat my hat like that.”

She grabbed his hat off the top of his head, slammed it down on the ground, and stomped on it. “There’s what I think of your damned hat.”

He was too mad to speak so he picked up the hat, punched it back into shape, crammed it on his head again, and slid in behind the steering wheel. She took a deep breath and watched him go.

“Dammit! I wasn’t through with this fight!” she said. The phone rang, and hoping it was Raylen, she answered before she even looked at the ID.