Eluna’s P.O.V.
I had a rule.
A solid, reasonable, no-nonsense rule.
Don’t fall for flirty cowboys who stroll into town wearing too much confidence and too little concern about what they’re doing to your emotional stability. And yet... there he was... AGAIN. Leaning casually against the counter of the bakery, looking at me like I was the answer to a question he hadn’t even asked yet.
“Do you ever stop?” I asked him, sipping my coffee and hoping the heat from the cup would disguise the heat crawling up my neck. Jackson gave me that crooked grin that had already done too much damage.
“Only when I’m sleeping. Which, by the way, I have been doing a ton of since I got here. Only since last night, it's gone sideways.”
“Oh no,” I deadpanned.
“Tragic.”
He tilted his head.
“I’m serious.
