“What do you want?” Shane grumbles. This is the third time this week you’ve bothered him at the saloon.

He doesn’t mind the free drinks, or the appetisers, it’s the persistence you have to do this twice every week on top of chatting away with him every day.

“Don't you have a farm to run?” He asks, turning his head towards the mug in his hand. His drink is warm.

You’re so persistent, coming in here every day and sitting next to him like there isn’t other people you could talk to.