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She’d had two copies printed after returning to L.A. One sat on her desk. The other had arrived in Antelope Rock a little over a week ago.

Grady had called her as soon as he opened it.

He hadn’t said much at first. Just, “Got your package.”

“And?”

Another pause.

“I like it.”

For anyone else, the response might have sounded underwhelming. She’d known better.

The next morning, he sent her a picture of the frame on his nightstand. She’d put her copy on hers, too, but after several nights of staring at their smiling faces before turning out the light, only to cry herself to sleep because she missed him so damn much, she moved it into her office. At least there, she could enjoy having it nearby while she worked.

Moving the picture hadn’t made missing him any easier, though.

Neither had the other things they’d sent back and forth since she left.

The day after she arrived home, Grady sent her a beautiful bouquet with a note saying he was glad she'd made it safely. A few days later, a package arrived filled with treats from shops in Antelope Rock, along with a message teasing her that California probably didn't have anything worth eating.

She’d retaliated by sending coffee to the sheriff’s office, along with enough pastries for his deputies and other staff, because she didn’t trust Grady not to eat them all himself. He’d accused her of trying to bribe his department, and she’d told him it never hurt to have law enforcement on her side.

What started as a ridiculous exchange of prank gifts became something much more personal. Little pieces of their lives traveling between California and Wyoming.

They talked every day, sometimes more than once. A quick call in the morning if their schedules allowed. A text sometime during the afternoon. Most nights, one of them called the other before bed, and what started as a ten-minute conversation often stretched past an hour.

It should have helped.

In some ways, it did. In others, it made missing him worse.

Her office door opened without warning, and Fen walked in carrying two iced coffees and a paper bag.

“You know, most people knock,” she said.

“Most people don’t have to make sure their boss remembers to eat.”

Her gaze dropped to the paper bag as he crossed the room, and her stomach chose that moment to remind her how long it had been since she’d fed it. “I ate.”

“When?”

She opened her mouth to answer, then realized she couldn’t remember the last thing she’d eaten. Breakfast, maybe? If coffee counted as breakfast, which she was pretty sure it did.

His smug expression said he’d expected exactly that. He set one of the coffees in front of her, took the chair on the opposite side of the desk, and began unpacking the bag.

“Fine. I forgot lunch.”

“And breakfast?”

She reached for the coffee instead of answering. The first sip told her he’d stopped at the place she liked a few blocks away, which meant the bag probably contained her usual turkey club too. “This is why I pay you.”

“You pay me to keep your career from imploding. Making sure you don’t starve to death is a courtesy.”

He handed her the sandwich, and she unwrapped it before taking a bite. Fen just sat back with his coffee and watched her.

Something about his expression didn’t sit right with her. “What?”

“Nothing.”