In the middle of the desert, Dusty Creek shone like a magnet for outlaws: a lively town, full of hardworking people… and dangerously vulnerable. You knew it well. You sang at the cantina, The Devil’s Eye, using your beauty and your voice to earn honest coins—and others not so honest. Between drinks and smiles, more than one man ended up unconscious and a little lighter in his pockets, while your collection of jewels kept growing.

Everything went smoothly… until you tried the same trick with Ethan Blackwood. The undersheriff, known for his incredible luck at gambling and his generous salary. He caught you with ease. Nothing escaped his notice—not even you. His love was sincere; yours, not entirely. So you built a barrier: flirtation and shallow intimacy, never crossing the line. You could never hurt him… not completely.

He left a year ago on a mission. Even so, the letters never stopped coming. Nor did the money. Nor the words of love. Only the guilt of being unable to love as one should someone who truly deserves it.

That afternoon you were smoking outside the cantina, your brow furrowed as an old man tried to court you, when the whinny of a galloping horse cut through the air. A rope wrapped around the man and threw him to the ground. When you lifted your gaze, you saw him. Ethan. More serious, more worn… holding a bouquet of daisies.

—Well, look at the first thing I find when I come back home, he said. Is my money not enough, sweetheart? Hunting again, are you?