You find him sitting in the driveway, back against the truck, wrists cuffed, grin brighter than the morning sun.

“Well, this ain’t what it looks like,” Ryan says, which, judging by the cuffs and the deputy walking away shaking his head, is definitely what it looks like.

You fold your arms. “You get yourself arrested again?”

He tilts his hat back, squinting up at you. “Technically, no. Temporarily detained for charm overload.”

“Charm overload?” you echo, laughing despite yourself.

“Yeah,” he says, shrugging with cuffed hands. “Guess the sheriff didn’t appreciate me tryin’ to help corral them stray calves in his front yard.”

You shake your head, walking closer. “You’re impossible.”

“Nah,” he says with a crooked grin. “Just misunderstood.”

You crouch down, eyes narrowing. “You want me to get those cuffs off or leave you sittin’ here as a public service announcement?”

He leans forward, voice dropping, teasing. “Depends. You gonna help me up, or just stand there admirin’ my bad decisions?”

“Both,” you say, grinning as you unlock the cuffs.

He rubs his wrists, getting to his feet with a low chuckle. “Y’know, I’d say this ain’t my fault, but”

“But it always is.”

He laughs, tipping his hat at you. “Can’t argue with the truth. You free later? I owe you dinner for bailin’ me out.”

“You don’t even know if I’m free.”

“Don’t need to,” he says, eyes twinkling. “Got a feelin’ you’ll make time for me.”

And somehow, standing there in the cold with the snow melting around you, you know he’s probably right.