The phone and the car were easy. After she got the name from Fred Ray of the guy who had come though the shop recently and wanted to sell his dad's old Mustang as is, she drove it, declared it passible and forked over a thousand in cash for it. She went back to work at Fred's and worked on it in her spare time. Fred even seemed glad to have her back.

She was glad to be back.

Her insurance company even looked like they were going to pay up for the loss of her property, especially after Vic produced all manner of reports and statements from Absaroka and Cumberland Counties.

It helped to have the law on your side.

She had even gone back to work at Henry's. The only reference he made to her absence was mentioning in passing that he thought about putting up a stripper pole to draw in more business.

She channeled her inner Vic and told him to go fuck himself, much to his amusement. It was always hard to tell with Henry, though, but the way his lips kept twitching, she knew he couldn't be too mad at her.

She was busy trying to get her life back in order. But, she wasn't so busy that she didn't have time to talk to Ferg.

At least, she would have if he called.

Sure, he texted her at least once, sometimes twice a day to ask about how things were going with the insurance company or with fixing up her new-to-her '64 Ford or with starting back at The Red Pony. Nothing serious. Nothing earth-shattering. Just polite banter.

She hated it.

One step forward and two steps back.

But, it was the only contact she had with him, so she answered his questions appropriately. She thought about asking him why he was avoiding her, but figured she knew the answer to that.

Vic had told her that he blamed himself for almost getting her killed. Not that she wasn't already aware of this fact.

As much as she wanted to be angry at Ferg for thinking it, it didn't surprise her in the least. He had decided before she took on this job that he was going to be her protector – no matter how many people convinced him otherwise – and to him, he failed.

Although if it weren't for him, she'd also be a crispy critter in the pit that was now The Last Ride.

He'd have to figure it out on his own. She didn't blame him at all, but she knew if she told him that, he'd still blame himself.

As the days clicked by with nothing but cursory electronic contact, Annie wondered if he ever would. She tried not to think about it – after all she had enough to keep her busy right now – but the pang she felt when she did made her realize she hoped he could figure it out. Soon.

When he pulled up at Ray's garage one bright afternoon, she hated her heart for the little flutter it made just at the sound of the engine.

Wait a minute. . . who said he was here to see her? Maybe he was here on business. Or needed a car repair. Or needed to speak with Fred about something or other. . .

On her back underneath a Buick working on the fuel line, she slowly rolled her way out from underneath it, hoping to keep her face a polite blank as she wiped her hands and straightened her hair, which always managed to come out of the tight bun she tried to keep it in while she worked.

She could give herself excuses all day, but she knew he was there to see her.

She just wasn't sure she was going to like what he had to say.

Fred confirmed it. "Hey, Annie! You have a visitor!"

"I'll be right there!" She bent down and glanced at herself in the side mirror of the car, wiping a bit of grime off her cheek before steeling herself.

He had already made his way out the office to the garage.

Although she told herself she would be polite only, she couldn't help but smile at the sight of him.

He looked just as unsure as she did, but he did return her smile. He held up a bag. "I brought lunch."

That had to be good. Right?

Annie stuck her head in the office and told Fred she was taking a break and fell along beside him. She pulled the tailgate down on an old beat-up truck a rodeo hand had brought to be repaired and never picked up. Fred used it for deliveries now. She hoisted herself on it and patted the place beside her.

They ate their sandwiches in companionable silence. Annie swung her legs back and forth lazily, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine, trying not to think about what exactly Ferg wanted.

Maybe he just wanted to eat.

That was probably it. Just lunch. A friendly lunch. Because if anything, they were friends.

She hated it.

"I like your car."

Annie's gaze traveled to the mostly white Mustang. The rest of it was the distinct color of rust. "I'm rather fond of it myself. It needs a lot of work, though."

"Your favorite kind."

She chuckled, remembering she had that exact same thought herself. "I haven't had much time to work on it lately. Fred apparently didn't do much of anything while I was gone. There's a backlog a week long waiting on me."

Ferg didn't respond, just leaned on the tailgate and appeared to listen.

She continued her chattering, not knowing why she was doing it, but not quite ready for him to leave just yet.

He couldn't help but chuckle as she told him the story about Henry and the stripper pole and her response.

"You've been hanging out with Vic too long," he admitted.

"She does rub off on you."

She fell quiet and studied him as he looked anywhere but at her. "You look better than when I saw you last," she finally said.

"Sleep helps. You should have woken me up when you left though, though."

She smiled. "You needed to sleep more than anything at that point. But I did make enough noise to wake the dead while I was cleaning the dishes. You never moved."

That was the best meal that has come out of the kitchen since my dad got sick."

"Then neither one of you must have been good cooks," she teased.

They sat in silence for another moment. She took a deep breath and dove in. "I wondered when you were going to come see me. Or call. I was even starting to look for smoke signals."

Ferg glanced at his dirty boots. "Yeah. I know. Vic read me the riot act about that."

"Really?" She raised an eyebrow at that.

"Yeah. She strung together curse words I didn't even know went together."

Annie wasn't sure if she should be mad at the other woman or not. "Soooo . . . you just came to see me because . . .Vic yelled at you?"

He glanced at her sharply. "No! I mean yes, she yelled at me! A lot! But no, I came out here on my own. Because she was right."

She couldn't help the small smile on her face. "Don't tell her you said that. You'll never live it down."

"You got that right." He took a deep breath, held it for a moment and exhaled sharply. "I am really not good at all this."

Annie waited patiently, not sure if she could say anything that would make him feel any better.

"She told me that I was a – let me make sure I get this right – a lily-livered, chicken shit sorry mother fucker if I let you get away. End quote."

"Boy . . . she didn't hold back any punches, did she?"

"Does she ever? But, she was right. I was scared. Am scared. I don't want to screw this up. And I'm afraid I already have."

"None of that was your fault-"

"I'm not talking about the explosion! I'm talking about . . . this! Us! I'll be honest with you, Annie, it's been a really long time since I've dated or courted or wooed or whatever it's called now!"

Annie threw back her head and laughed. "Wooed! I haven't heard that one since . . . well . . . never!"

"See? I don't even get the jargon right!"

Annie wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes. "You want to know what I think is the problem?"

"What?" he asked suspiciously.

She reached out and brushed a few crumbs from his shirt, straightening his collar while she was there. "You think about it too much. You do just fine when you're not thinking about it."

He still eyed her as if he wasn't going to like what she had to say. "What do you mean?"

"When you were distracted with the case, you went with . . . with your . . . uh . . . instincts."

He colored. He knew what she was talking about. In the sheriff's office. And that night in her camper at The Last Ride.

Not that he could ever forget it in a million years.

"Now that you don't have that to keep your mind occupied, you're starting to overthink it. Just be yourself, Ferg. It's what I love about you. That, and I can just be myself with you. Not something you want me to be or wish I was or think I could or should be. I can be me." She put her hand over his. "And you keep surprising me. Treating me like I've never been treated before. You actually care."

He looked at her hand on his for a moment, then put his palm up, linking his fingers with hers. She squeezed his hand. "I never understood how those guys could treat you like that at . . .at the strip club. Junior, too."

She knew the answer to that. "Because I let them."

"I'll never treat you like that," he said softly, still looking at their conjoined hands.

"I know. And stop looking at my hands like that," she teased. "They're filthy."

He rubbed the grease of the back of her hand with his thumb, surprising her by pulling her hand to his mouth and kissing it.

He grinned at her over her hand. "You know, I always wanted to do that."

She couldn't help but laugh along with him, feeling lighter and more carefree than she had felt in a long time. "Well, I can do one better than that." She reached up and kissed him softly on the lips before settling back on the tailgate. "Thanks for lunch."

He looked a little stunned. "That was just an excuse."

"To come by and kiss me on the hand and make me feel like a princess?" she couldn't help but tease him. She loved to watch the blush rise on his face.

"To ask you out. On a real date."

"A real date?" She cocked her head. "Have we not been on one of those? Wait . . . I know! You took me to the casino!"

"That was for the alternator."

"Fishing?"

He gave her a 'get real' look.

"Huh. Maybe I'm out of practice, too!"

"This will be a real honest-to-goodness date in Billings at a restaurant and a movie or whatever you want to do."

She studied her dirty nails, trying to appear disinterested. "I dunno. I'll have to check my calendar." She cut her eyes over at him to gauge his reaction.

"Don't wait too long. Mine fills up quickly, you know." He winked at her, and she laughed again, jumping down from the tailgate of the truck. Hand-in-hand, they walked towards his car.

She leaned on the window after he climbed in and shut the door. "How does Friday sound?"

"Henry let you off that night?"

"He will now." She kissed him again, a quick peck on the cheek. "Stay safe, Deputy."

She waved as he pulled out of the lot, heading back into Durant. Humming to herself, she sauntered back towards the garage, throwing away the remnants of their impromptu lunch in the garbage.

"So, you and Ferg, huh?" Fred asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Yup," Annie agreed, taking the last swig out of her drink before tossing it. Not like she could deny it, anyway, at this point. Fred had a full view of them out the front window of the shop.

Fred leaned back in his chair lazily. "I was wondering about the two of you at first. Sitting there eating not saying a word. I was going to go out there and give him a piece of my mind until the two of you started actually talking!" Fred was so vehement about it, she had to laugh, reaching out and patting him on the shoulder. She wasn't even mad that he was eavesdropping. In fact, she was happier than she'd been in a long time.

"Thanks for taking up for me, Fred."

"Well . . . just don't make it a habit! Taking those long lunches and stuff," he groused, returning to his grumpy self.

Annie just smiled and returned to the Buick, her heart lighter than it had been in days.