Lucas and dad had major concerns about leaving me out at this ranch for the night. Ones I understood because Roman was essentially a stranger to them.

As cautious as I was and slower to trust than I had been in the past, there was something about Roman that made me feel. . . safe.

Lucas and dad wouldn't stop hounding me for the ranch details and address, not that they couldn't have found it online if they put their minds to it. But I knew they wanted my permission to show up unannounced.

We compromised in the end and I agreed to turn on my location as long as they promised not to show up at the ranch. I also promised them that I would send an SOS if I didn't feel safe at any point.

I think the only reason dad was content not to come and get me immediately was because of Roman's chivalry at the game. The way he stood up to a stranger for me, proved he had a good heart. Dad would always be cautious when it came to me though, I accepted that.

The sun was setting over the ranch when we got to the domes. The vast rolling land was illuminated by hues of dusk orange, rays of lingering sunlight touched the tips of dandelions.

"It's gorgeous out here," I said, admiring the four domes spread across the paddock. Clear bubbles plotted far enough from each other that they were private.

"You should see it when the stars come out," Roman said unlocking the door on the dome we'd stopped next to. It was a small door, he had to duck to get inside.

"That's why I'm here," I said, following him inside.

The room was made up of a double bed sitting low on the ground, a rug sat beneath it, a mini fridge, a side table drawer and some lush green house plants to add life to the white colour scheme.

Another small door sat beside the mini fridge and opened into a cove just big enough to fit a toilet.

"It's beautiful," I said, running a finger down the leaf of a large plant. "It's so clean. It smells good in here too."

"The team rotates coming out and doing the housekeeping," Roman explained, switching the mini fridge on. "I wish it was dark already. I'd love to see your excitement when you see how beautiful it is at night."

"You won't be here?"

Roman looked at me, lips slightly parting. "Oh I just— there's just one bed. That didn't— I didn't think you would want me to stay here."

"I do. Platonically, of course," I assured him.

"Of course," he quickly agreed.

"It's just— as brave and independent as I like to think I am, I don't know if I could hack an entire night out here. Alone. It's so. . . secluded."

"I don't mind staying, as long as that's what you want."

"Please," I nervously laughed, hoping I wasn't making him uncomfortable.

"I can put a blanket on the floor. The rug is thick."

"That's entirely up to you. But I don't mind if we share the bed. Sharing a bed doesn't have to come with expectations."

His chest rose and fell with a quick breath and he looked out at the paddock with a nervous smile. This situation had the potential to become awkward, fast, so I lowered onto the bed and laid back.

"Oh shit," I sat up, blinking stars out of my eyes. "It's still too bright to stare straight at the sky."

Roman laughed and sat down next to me where I was squeezing my eyes and blinking. He smelled nice, he'd showered before bringing me out to the domes and his aroma was a fresh clean scent of rain and pine wood. However that worked.

My cellphone bleeped and I picked it up to see that Bernie had sent a photo of a new outfit she was working on for the Instagram movement. It was a beautiful neon green button up shirt with a matching pair of loose cotton pants. Cute and casual.

"Bernie's latest design," I showed Roman the screen and he smiled.

"She made that?"

"Yeah. Like I said, she's gifted. Here, scroll through these. Those are some of the outfits she's made me."

I handed Roman the phone on an Instagram post Bernie had uploaded with a collection of my own personal pieces.

"How do I see the next one?" He asked and I tried not to giggle as I demonstrated how to swipe.

"Beautiful," Roman said after taking his time scrolling through the photos, back, forth, back again. He held the phone closer to examine some photos, his lips twitched into a smile at others.

"That one's my favourite," he said handing the phone back.

It was a photo of me wearing a floor length summer dress with a halter neck and a plunging back, the material stops and bunches just above the curve of my butt. The fabric is pale pink with lace detail around the neck line.

Bernie's vision was a tribute to the late 90s fashion era and of course, the execution was flawless.

"Why is it your favourite?" I asked, grinning as I locked and dropped my phone.

"Because it's the only one you're laughing in."

I felt a pinch in my brow and fixed him with a suspicious stare as I picked up my phone again and swiped through the photos.

He's right. In all of the photos, I have a rehearsed smile, a slight lift of the lips, or a dead straight stare.

But in his favourite one, my head is tipped up at the sun, eyes closed and creased at the edges as I'm captured in the midst of a full aching burst of laughter.

I can't remember what Bernie said that made me laugh so hard but that was Bernie. The girl was always sending me into a state. I put the phone down again and looked at Roman who was leaning back on his palms.

"You have a great laugh," he said softly.

"Thanks," I felt my cheeks warm and looked around, feeling nervous but not in a bad way. "I don't use Instagram all that much. I prefer to keep off it for personal use but it's good being able to keep up with Bernie and her latest designs."

"That's fair."

"What's it like?" I asked. "Having next to no social media use? Do you feel like you're missing out on what the rest of the world is up to?"

He leaned forward, palming his jaw with thought. "I don't care too much about what the rest of the world is up to," he said with a slight shrug. "I don't see the need to put that kind of pressure on myself. What are the latest trends, what are these celebrities up to, who's dating who, drama. I don't want to fill my head up with other peoples business. I'm happy and content in my own business. Does that make sense?"

I smiled. "Yeah, it does."

He stretched his arm across his chest and scratched his shoulder, causing his bicep to flex and I felt a rush of guilt for the flutter in my stomach.

"I might join up just to follow you though," he said with a teasing smile.

I laughed and his smile grew.

For the rest of the afternoon we sat and talked, the hours getting away on us and before long, Roman told me he was going to leave me alone to get organised for the night while he went and collected some dinner from the ranch kitchen.

While he was gone, I dressed into a pair of Rian's clothes she'd offered me. A pair of sweat pants that were too long. I rolled them over at the waist band about three times and then slipped on a loose cotton long sleeve top.

The outfit swallowed me and I preferred it like that. I didn't want Roman to see me wearing something fitting or revealing and assume I was hoping to get some. . .

The thought made me flinch. He wasn't like that and even if I didn't know him that well, even if I'd been lured by someone's charm before, Roman made me feel safe.

Some people would call me a fool for that sort of trust but it was an instinct.

Plus, dad and Lucas knew where I was and if something happened to me, no one on this ranch would be safe from their wrath.

Roman returned with two plates of roast vegetables, chicken and chive sauce and potatoes.

"Look, I know the portions are enormous but this is how the cook prepares the meals because most of the staff eat a lot after a full day of labour. Don't feel like you have to finish it or even touch it if it doesn't appeal to you."

He was turning redder and redder as he sat down on the bed and put the full plates between us. I hadn't mentioned my eating disorder to him so his reaction was purely of his own concern that he was feeding me more food than I wanted.

I appreciated the thought of having a meal with someone who wasn't walking on eggshells around me.

"I can go back and get something else," he continued. "I should've asked before I lef—"

"Roman," I waved a hand at him to stop. "This looks good. I might not finish it but I am going to eat."

He rubbed his hands down his face. "I never realised how uncool I am until recently."

"You're so cool," I stabbed a piece of broccoli with my fork and gave him an encouraging nod.

"I'm going to make you laugh right now," he said, cutting into his chicken. "Sometimes I used to create these internal fantasies where I'd meet a girl and I'd come up with all this super smooth dialogue and moves and she'd be into it. I really thought I'd have the nerve to deliver this performance and then reality slapped me across the face and said you wish."

He was right, he did make me laugh, I covered my mouth so he didn't see my broccoli. It didn't evade me that he was referring to me as the beautiful girl either.

"I know," he shook his head, laughing as well.

"Wait," I said after swallowing. "What was this smooth dialogue? I feel like I missed out."

"You did miss out! I've been a rambling mess since the moment we met."

"Do over," I said. "Come on, let me hear it."

"I can't. It's humiliating. It sounded cool in my imagination when my delivery was smooth and I was confident but that is so not me."

"Who cares? I don't. In fact, arrogant dudes who are full of themselves are such a turn off. I much prefer the person you are."

He smiled. "Really?"

"Mhmm. That's probably because my brother and dad are arrogant and full of themselves and I have no idea how either of them are so sought after."

That's a lie. At heart, both of them are good men, great men. Some women just prefer their men with a sprinkle of smug.

"I'm not going to give up," I said. "I want to experience these smooth moves."

He let out a long sigh and stood up. "Fine. Get up."

Both of us stood and faced one another, Roman shook out his limbs as if he was warming up for a full sprint and then he came close, his height towering above me.

"Hi," he said, attempting a smoulder but fighting a smile. I pursed my lips together and fought one too. "I'm Roman. As in—" he broke, laughing for a moment and barely pulled it together again. "As in, I'm Roman your bed tonight."

I curled over and laughed so hard I couldn't breathe. "No," I wheezed. "That can't have been the smooth lines you imagined. Please no."

Roman was laughing so hard he leaned his back against the glass wall and clapped his hand against his chest.

"I would never say that to someone," he said, his words barely escaping him as he cried with laughter.

The silent giggles continued, occasionally a snort would escape one of us and we'd break down all over again. Eventually, Roman pulled himself together and sat down on the edge of the bed, resting his elbow on his knee while he wiped his face.

"That line came to me when I was exploring the depths of how douche I could go. If I ever used that in a serious manner, I'd have reached a new low."

Grinning, I stood in front of him and admired the size of his shoulders under his fitted t-shirt.

"I guess I'm destined not to have a game," he peered up at me through thick black lashes.

"Some people don't have to try," I told him quietly.

His gaze fell serious, an earnestness settling into his stare as he slowly stood up and looked down at me. "If I did want to make my thoughts clear, if I wanted to express what I felt, I'd probably say something along the lines of, you are the most beautiful girl I have ever met, that's not an exaggeration. You have these green eyes that have a glass like shimmer to them and your nose crunches when you try not to smile and when you laugh, it's a deep, throaty rasp that is so unexpected but damn adorable. I think it's great. You're great."

A breath gets caught in my throat and I feel a swell of emotion that I can't quite put a name to. It's a lot like butterflies but it's far more aggressive and it almost winds me.

"That works a lot better than the Roman your bed line," my voice is a hoarse whisper. "A lot better."

His face becomes a shade redder as he slides a hand through his hair and steps back. We both sit down on the bed with our dinner and proceed to eat, our eyes fluttering to each other every few moments.

We smile, blush and swallow bouts of nervousness. I feel like I'm in an alternate universe and I have no idea if it scares the shit out of me, or if it excites me.

"Abby," Roman said, putting his fork down and breaking the quiet. I look at him expectantly, the setting sun casts dusk hues over his profile. "Do you want to go out with me? On a date?"

I don't think I've ever been on a real first date. Flynn and I started dating in high school and at that point, we'd already slept together and hung out. Dates just weren't a high school thing. We went out for dinner later on, sure. But a real first date, I've never experienced it before.

Before I can answer, Roman adds, "just fair warning, I'm sort of traditional. I like real dates. I do the pick up, the drop off, fitting the bill. I think first dates are a dying art and it sucks because first dates can be magic if done well. . . with the right person."

My heart is beating out of its chest when I smile. "I would love to go out with you."