Summer: Rhett Eaton. I know you are not texting and driving with the daddy-to-be in your car. Cade: He is. Rhett: Red light, Princess. And why are you only worried about Cade and not me? Summer: TODAY ISN’T ABOUT YOU.

“Beg.” “Pardon me?” “You heard me.” Her lips don’t even twitch. She’s not joking at all. “Beg.”

I’ve known Winter since we were teenagers. When Summer was in the hospital, we spent some time together. Winter isn’t as bad as everyone has made her out to be. She’s been dealt a shit hand. One that money and education can’t undo. What Winter is missing is love.

And there he is . . . warming up and looking sexy as hell. Shoulders held tall. Black hat. Black shirt with silver snaps. Black chaps. Black boots. Even Blueberry matches him. “I wonder if he has a favorite color?” I ask to a chorus of laughs. “He looks like Cowboy Batman,” Rhett says.

My eyes shift, and Cade is staring right at me, bulging arms crossed over his impossibly broad chest. Biceps straining against his signature black T-shirt. And my cheeks heat for no good reason other than my body is a traitor and I’m probably ovulating.

Her lips curve up slowly. “I don’t think you’ll be able to scare Willa away,” is all she says before giving me another squeeze and walking in the opposite direction. She drops a truth bomb casually and then just leaves me to overanalyze the hell out of it.

“Dad. Do you think there could be someone down there?” Okay. Creepy. “No pal. Just a bunch of coins.”

“Did you talk to him?” Cade rubs a gloved hand over his eye. “No. Figured I should talk to you first.” He sniffs. “You okay? Did I overstep?” “Not at all.” He clears his throat. “Just got dust in my eye.” He rubs again. “Cool, cool. Me too,” I say, giving him an exaggerated watery wink.

Maybe I have a crush on an older man. Again. It’s pretty much part of my personality now. I’ve always had a thing for older men. I like to bug Summer about her dad being hot—but I’m not really joking. I need therapy.