With Rosie, he talked about everything. Including the topics he’d always had on lock-down.

She removed her hand to unbuckle her seatbelt. “I’m glad we’re in early. We can just relax…get to the good stuff.”

“I’m using Jinx for the packaging, but thanks for the offer.” He’d said it to make a point—she was his architect., not his business or life partner. But, now that he’d said it out loud, he realized it was a good idea.

“Doesn’t Jinx do custom paint work for motorcycles?”

“He’s an artist. Before his dad died and he dropped out of school, he was studying at Parson’s in New York. Not sure how he got into bikes, but I know from Skylar that he still does art.”

“There’s something going on between those two, which I didn’t see coming from a mile away. I wouldn’t think she’s his type at all.” She looked at him like an idea had just popped into her head. “Hey, what exactly is your type?”

Funny, Brodie hadn’t really thought about it. “I don’t think I have one.” He’d been with all kinds of women. For him, it wasn’t about beauty or a certain body shape. He wasn’t specifically a legs or an ass man. He was drawn to…personality. A smile. That rare and inexplicable spark.

With Rosie…damn. It was like the Fourth of July. He thought about the mechanical bull. How, after she’d fallen, he’d expected her to go back to her table and pour another drink. Instead she’d insisted on trying it again. He liked her determination, her passion. Her grit blended with her innate elegance was such a fucking turn-on.

Another thing he really liked was that, even though she felt tremendous loyalty to her family, she stuck to her guns. She wouldn’t compromise herself for some archaic belief system.

He admired the hell out of that.

Emotions swirled in him, thick and hot.

Vanessa had a hand on the door, legs turned, ready to get out, when she cut him a look. “How come you’re not turning off the engine?” She swiveled back into her seat. “What’re you thinking about?”

Rosie.

His pulse kicked up hard and fast. He didn’t have much time left with her, so what was he doing in Bozeman with another woman? Vanessa was beautiful. She was smart and ambitious.

But she didn’t excite him. She didn’t move the needle.

There were no sparks, and there never would be.

He wasn’t the kind of man who settled. He’d rather be alone than with a woman who didn’t get him fired up.

Through the windshield, he took in the hotel. And, suddenly, he knew spending a night with Vanessa was wrong. It wasn’t where he needed to be. “Vanessa…”