D’Anne grinned at Tyler. “It really is a great song, Ty,” she whispered, using Bear’s term instead of Tyler’s full name.

“Is that so, Slick?” He moved from sitting on the picnic table to right next to D’Anne on the bench. His arm crept around her shoulders. “Well, why don’t you tell me exactly how great it is?”

She felt young, silly, and filled with awe. “How did you do it?”

“What?” His face was much too close for comfort. She caught a trace of his spice-scented aftershave mixed with a long night on the stage. Dappled in shadows, he had deep creases on either side of his mustache and looked all man.

“Write a song in one day. A great song!” She leaned into his body and relaxed.

“Sometimes things just come to me.” He set his hat on his knee. “You made this one happen, Dee.”

“Really?” She felt thirty years younger, busting with silly pride and admiration for Tyler. Gee, did I really?

He turned his head and looked into her eyes. She smelled the drink they’d shared on his breath and longed to taste it with her lips. His skin looked smooth yet broken-in. He had a kind face when he wasn’t so busy trying to look stern. She heard him quietly swallow.

Even now his eyes beamed clear and deep under the starlight. He regarded her with interest and subtle intensity. She wanted to take a deep breath in and sniff the good-smelling cowboy…all over.