Owen crammed the last pair of jeans into his suitcase. A late-night change of plans moved the return to Parkers Prairie up a day. Just as well. At least this would keep him from listening to Silbie's voicemail a hundred more times. Tell him I love him pounded in his head like a ball-peen hammer.

He picked up the phone and stared at the screen. Once again, his finger hovered over delete, but he couldn't bring himself to tap it. Even though the bad connection made her voice sound odd, it was his only link to her, and he wasn't ready to give that up. Soon, her first movie would be released, and he'd see her on the big screen. Or would he? He'd read it was shot in 3D, so to have her appear close enough to touch would be the worst kind of torture.

He grabbed his duffle and shoved his shoes and shaving kit inside with more force than he intended. Dash rushed to his side. Owen patted his head. "It's okay, boy. I'm not having a meltdown."

Why was he agitated? During their last session, Dr. Sequig suggested Owen ask himself that question when the emotion started to build. In this case, was it because of Hollywood gossip? Couldn't be. He no longer believed anything he read about her concerning a relationship. She still loved him. The proof was at his fingertips.

Slumping onto the bed, he rested his head in his hands. Or, was it because while he'd been gone, she'd become a movie star? Possibly. He admitted if she'd been the small-town girl he'd left behind, things would be different. But that wasn't true. In his heart, he wanted only the best for her, and knowing Silbie, if she didn't love her new-found fame, she'd kiss it goodbye.

He hit replay and listened to it one more time. It wasn't anything she'd done.  It was him. His weakness—self-doubt—even shame that he had PTSD. A stronger man would handle what he'd been through and come out the other side unscathed. Plenty did. He figured the soldiers who'd rescued him were prime examples. They'd pulled off the grab-and-snatch with no more effort than carrying a sack of groceries.

Wasn't like he'd been held captive for years. Ninety-six days was nothing. Certainly not enough to wreck his life. He had no one to blame but himself. He was the problem—his fragile psyche.

He'd all but cried at the thought of his dream woman seeing his scars. But just as he'd recast her into Silbie, he'd also rewritten the script. Instead of shock, he'd given her compassion. And, it paid off big time. He'd performed like the man he once was.

Up until the erotic hallucination, he'd kept his libido in check. Mostly, because of an equipment malfunction, but now, with last night's fantasy and Silbie's message, desire kicked him in the nuts.

He craved the heat and scent of her. Longed for her touch. Yearned for her whispers of love and comfort. Thirsted for the sweetness of her lips. He'd have all of it again. Tonight— in his dreams.

Between each scene, Silbie checked her phone. It'd been two days and still no return call from Dante. She hated to come across as a deranged stalker, but if this kept up, she wouldn't be able to hide her crazy. In ten more days, shooting would move to New Orleans. Maybe she'd book her route through Dallas and see Owen again.

No rendezvous this time. That involved too much planning and too many players. However, she could stake out his hotel and perhaps catch a glimpse.

"Hey, let me freshen your makeup," Liz said.

Silbie dropped into a chair and sucked in a deep breath. "I shouldn't have seduced Owen."

Liz draped a cape over Silbie's shoulders. "Just a couple of days ago, you were riding high from the experience. What happened?"

"I can't stop thinking about him. Before my escapade, I managed to keep him out of my head most of the time. At least when I was working. Now, it's like he's rented a room in my brain and decorated it."

Liz snorted and ran a brush over Silbie's cheeks.  "So he's signed a long-term lease?"

"Exactly," she sighed. He occupied every thought. "I'm not sure how much longer I can hold out before I give him a piece of my mind. He's convinced himself he doesn't deserve me."

"Close your eyes, please."

Silbie obeyed and continued her rant. "He had no problem with Simone deserving him—four times!"

"Wow! You didn't tell us that. Please, go on. This is getting juicy."

Silbie pressed her hand to her chest. "I shouldn't have said that.  But, it's proof of how messed up I am. I've not had a good night's sleep since sleeping with him."

Liz patted her shoulder. "According to my therapist—"

Silbie opened her eyes and stared dumbfounded at Liz. "You have a therapist?"

The girl shrugged. "Everyone has a therapist here."

"I don't."

"Not yet."

Silbie laughed. She understood why Logan liked Liz so much.

"But you'll definitely need one after I show you this." Liz handed Silbie a magazine.

She eyed the front-page photo of Liz and Logan lip locked, then read the headline aloud. "Logan Foster caught cheating on Silbie Luna with makeup artist."

"I'm sorry, Silbie. Logan and I weren't careful enough when we left the party the other night."

"Well, I must be heartbroken." Silbie laughed again. Her phone sounded, and she answered without looking at a caller ID. "Dante?"

"It's Jolene. We have a problem."

She had to stop herself from shaking her head while Liz fixed her eyeliner. "No, we don't. At least part of the gossip is true. Logan and Liz are an item. Just not at my expense."

"Silbie, you don't understand. You'll get sympathy, but Logan will be vilified. Y'all have a movie about to release. This couldn't have happened at a worse time. We've got to get ahead of this."

"Little late for that, don't you think?"

"I meant get ahead of the fallout. Aoife is already meeting with Logan. Once she's done with him, she's heading your way."

"You're sending my publicist to the set? Is that necessary?"

"Absolutely! I could just strangle him for being so careless. Social media is blowing up. Don't respond to anything until you talk to Aoife."

"Sorry. Gotta go. They're calling me back to set," Silbie lied and disconnected.

"I'm so, so, sorry," Liz said. "Aoife's pissed, right?"

"Don't worry. I'll fix this. I should have done it a long time ago. Hurry, put my wig on. Can't let the fans see me as a redhead since we're trying to keep the movie under wraps."

"I won't bother with the wig cap," Liz said as she swept Silbie's hair under the dark curls making sure no red stands escaped. She backed away and studied the results. "That looks good. Now what?"

"Lean down next to me so I can take a selfie." Once Silbie snapped the photo, she went to Instagram and posted.

Me, with makeup artist @Lizbehonest. Do I look upset? Don't believe rumors. Logan and I have never been an item. I am in love with somebody else. Stay tuned.

Liz removed the wig and ran her fingers through Silbie's hair. "Jolene is gonna lose her shit. Aoife, too."

"Jolene said we needed to get ahead of this. So I did. Now my fans can concentrate on who my mystery man—or woman is."

"You little sneak. You left that open-ended for a reason, didn't you?"

"Yep. In the next few days, I'll be romantically linked to every person I'm seen with. Better warn Maia. Since we live together, I'm sure she'll be the first choice. I can see the headline now. "Silbie Luna Hires Lover as Assistant. Or Jolene Diamond, Moves Lover, Silbie Luna into Guest House."

Silbie giggled. "Let the speculation begin."

Once Dante took Bea back to Parkers Prairie, the next week passed in a blur as he made excuses to postpone meetings, arranged for doctors, around the clock nurses, and hospice care.

An hour ago, he climbed onto a customized Harley-Davidson 2000 Road King— a surprise gift he'd found in the garage. This was the first time he'd had a chance to test it. He fired it up and eased out of the drive. When he reached the highway, he gunned it, hoping the wind would blast away his worry.

He wasn't that familiar with Parkers Prairie, so he'd gotten lost a couple of times on county roads, but given the size and lack of traffic in the small berg, it wasn't long until he drifted back into civilization. He made a pass through town, hung a U-turn, then parked in front of the only watering hole in the town, Grillenium Falcon.

He dismounted and raked his fingers through his scalp. His timing couldn't be better. In fifteen minutes, the bar would legally serve alcohol.  Ten o'clock was a little early to drink, but Dante needed one because the ride hadn't lifted his burden.

Bea was dying. He'd known that from the beginning, and at the time, it was no big deal. But now it was— because he never expected to care so much.

He slid onto a stool. Stuck his sunglasses in his shirt pocket. Considering the aroma of bacon, peppers, and onions hanging in the air, it wasn't a surprise the place was half-packed.

The bartender approached. "You're Zari's brother, right? Bea's husband."

"Yeah.  Dante Filgard." He stuck out his hand, and the man shook it.

"I'm Dale. When your wife gets a chance, I'd like to talk to her about a deal concerning the bar."

Dante glanced around the room again, then eyed the man. "Seems business is good. You wanting to sell?"

"No. My dad built this place. I don't want to give it up. Thought maybe we could work out a short-term sublease. Say—six months. We need to spend time with my husband's parents. His mother doesn't have much time left, and his dad's health is also failing. Once his mother's gone, we'll need to convince his dad to move here. I guess I need more of a leave of absence and yet still have an income." Dale leaned forward and rested his arms on the counter. "I know Bea has helped other businesses in town."

Dante knew no such thing. But then again, there was probably a lot he didn't know about her. "I'll speak to her. Let you know something in a few days."

"Great. Now, what can I get you?"

Dante studied the menu board on the wall. "Let me have a number three with a Bloody Mary."

"You want those eggs over easy?"

"Over medium."

"Gotcha."

On the ride back home, Dante considered his request. Bea wasn't capable of making business decisions. Her mind was still sharp, but she was too weak to deal with trivial matters. Since Dante had power of attorney, he could make the deal. But should he? It'd be the first time without her input. Somehow, that didn't feel right.

But, if what Dale said about her helping local business owners was true, wouldn't she want to do the same for him?

Dante slowed the bike, leaned into a curve, then straightened and gassed it. He understood Dale's dilemma more than most. Bea had bailed Dante out when he'd been in a tough situation. This might be his chance to pay it forward.

Back at home, Dante parked the Harley next to where the Vette should be. Apparently, Owen had gone for a morning ride of his own. Damn. Oh well, how much trouble could he find in Parkers Prairie? Especially at this early hour.

Dante dismounted but didn't go inside. In the last few days, he'd come to hate this place—a waiting room for the inevitable.

He slipped his phone from his pocket. Still hadn't returned Silbie's call, but he didn't know what to say. Should he pretend nothing had changed? Or, tell her to accept she and Owen were done? Dante ran his hand over the back of his neck to ease the tension there. That was a discussion for another time.

He tapped his contacts and selected Mattison. In spite of knowing Dante had married Bea for 100K, the attorney didn't seem to hold it against Dante.

Dante explained the situation concerning Grillenium Falcon and asked the attorney to work the deal ASAP with the understanding Dale would be in charge of hiring a manager to run the place in his absence. Dante could come through with the cash, but hiring and firing wasn't something he wanted to do. He had enough headaches.

Sunlight glinted off the chrome of the Corvette as Owen eased in next to the Harley. Dante waited for  him to emerge with the dog. "Where'd you get off to?

"Drove over to Zari's house. Man, I can't believe how big the twins are. Oh, and I filled your gas tank. Figured it was the least I could do for taking it without permission. Owen looked up to see Dante's shit eating grin." Uh, why are you smiling like an idiot?"

He clapped him on the back. "You made a social call. All by yourself. Maybe there's hope for you yet."

"Not sure visiting her can be considered a social call. More like family obligation. Gabriel still hasn't warmed up to me, it seems."

He shrugged. "Whatever. Still good that you struck out by yourself."

Owen ran his hand across the cherry red bike fender. "How'd this baby handle?"

"Most power I've had between my legs in a while." Dante dangled the keys. "Why don't you give her a spin?"

His eyebrows raised into his hairline. "You serious?"

"Sure."

"Okay." Owen grabbed the key and straddled the bike. "Wait. Don't I need a special license?"

"Yeah. So don't get stopped. I don't have one either. We'll take care of that later." Dante turned toward the door, then faced him again. "Say, I still haven't returned Silbie's call. What should I tell her?"

"No need," he huffed.  "I saw a headline on a magazine at the gas station. Seems she announced on Instagram she's in love. Probably won't be hearing from her again."

Sometimes he really wanted to hit Owen for being so dense. You, you idiot. She's talking about YOU. "How do you feel about that?"

He shrugged. "It's what I've wanted all along, so I guess I'll have to live with it."

What. An. Idiot.

TEASER: Silbie fanned herself. "That's the sexiest thing I've ever heard. I may be in love with him."