“But why would the government send RVs into Star Falls?” I ask.

Rosey shrugs and pushes the door of the truck open. “No idea. I thought maybe they were your RVs. Apparently, they’re pretty fancy. I wondered if you’d had them brought to town so you could get more construction workers or something.”

I slide out of the truck and slam the door shut. “Wasn’t me.” I shake my head. “I hope that rumor doesn’t get picked up. Next thing you know, I’ll be part of the government conspiracy, and the Colorado Club will be my spy headquarters or something.”

Rosey laughs, and the sound travels down my spine like cool water. I’ve been so wrapped up in everything today, I haven’t had the chance to think about what happened last night. All I know is, I couldn’t wait to get back to her today. At least we’re on safe ground at Grizzly’s. I’ll have to use every bit of willpower I have, but I’m going to be forced to resist her. I don’t want the entire town gossiping about me. Again.

There’s no music playing, but Grizzly’s is loud. Every table is full of people and excited chatter fills the air.

“It’s busy,” Rosey says, turning back to me with a grin.

We make our way to the bar. There’s one seat open and I gesture for her to sit.

“Tequila?” I ask.

She shoots me a puzzled look that says, Did you remember from the first night we met or are you just guessing? But of course I remember. How could I forget that night?

“Sure,” she says.

“Tequila,” I say to the bartender. “On the rocks. And I’ll take a beer.” I can feel her gaze on me. Eventually, I give in and look at her.

“That night feels like a thousand years ago,” she says, almost too quiet for me to hear.

I chuckle. “In a good way? Or a serving-time-in-a-Thai-prison kind of way?”

She smiles up at me. “In a really great way.”

The bartender slides our drinks across the bar and I lean back on the mahogany while Rosey sits beside me.

“Everyone’s so happy,” she says.

“Sure. They all survived the storm.”

“It was pretty terrifying having to go into the bunker,” she says. “I can’t imagine you ever get used to it.”

“Not living in the mountains in Colorado.”

“Were there many storms when you were a kid?” she asks.

I don’t look at her, because I don’t want to feed the rumor mill. I’m not convinced I can pretend I’m not completely enthralled by this woman if I give her all my attention.

“Plenty of storms,” I say, staring over at a table with a couple of faces I recognize. “But not many tornado warnings.”