Her stomach flipped at his words. But she wasn’t sure if it was dread… or temptation.

“I’ve been proposed to four times.”

He paused, his hand partway through his hair again. It dropped as he stared at her. “What?”

She nodded. “I’ve been proposed to four times. Twice by the same guy, so three guys. But four proposals.”

He looked completely confused. “You’re twenty-two.”

“Yeah. The first time was right after my high school graduation.”

“Um… wow.”

“And I said yes to that one.”

He scowled. “You’ve been engaged? Already?”

“Yep. Guy I’d known my whole life. My mom’s best friend’s son.” She shrugged, her chest aching the way it always did when she thought of Garrett. He had been such a great guy. Still was a great guy. And she’d not only broken his heart and ended their lifelong friendship, but she’d broken his mom’s heart and the heart of everyone in her family.

They would have been a little frustrated or even mad if she hadn’t dated him at all, but nothing like the hurt and disappointment after she’d ended the engagement.

Now she really tried with everything in her not to break hearts. Any hearts.

Her mom didn’t like her yoga studio or cat collection, but Paige was upfront about those being what she wanted, so Dee was just frustrated… and worried… but not heartbroken about those choices.

“Jesus.” Mitch blew out a breath. “What happened?”

She shrugged. “We turned sixteen and our moms had always said they wished we’d date. So we did. And then… it’s how things go here. You date. You get engaged. You get married. You get jobs. You have kids.”

“But…” Mitch frowned. “You didn’t.”

She shook her head. “I was trying on wedding dresses. My mom was all teary-eyed about it. Amanda was so excited. Everyone was so happy. Except the girl in the mirror. I realized I was doing it for them and that I didn’t want to get married. Not at age nineteen for sure. But not to Garrett any time. So I took the dress off, told them it was over, walked out, broke up with him, and… they’ve never fully forgiven me.”

Mitch was just staring at her. “And…” He shook his head. “The other two?”

“Adam was the next one. We had some chemistry—I mean, I didn’t hate kissing him or anything. And neither of us were planning to go off to college so I guess he figured why not.”

“That is…” Mitch shook his head. “Wow.”

“He was the one that proposed twice. After his dad passed away and he took over the farm completely just last spring, he asked me again.”

“Had you been dating then?”

“Nope.”

Mitch shook his head again. “And the other one?”

“Similar thing. Guy I’ve known forever who settled down here and getting married is the next thing on his to-do list. He looked around, saw a girl who seemed to be in a similar place, took me out to dinner a couple times, had some not-terrible sex, and then popped the question.”

“You slept with them?” he asked with a frown.

“Not Adam,” she said. “The one who asked twice. Garrett, the one I said yes to, sure. And the other one...” She shrugged. “Yeah.”

Mitch seemed to be gritting his teeth. “You didn’t explain the hookup-only rule to him?”

“Actually, I did.” She leaned in. “But he didn’t listen. Because that’s not what he wanted to hear.”

Just like he wasn’t listening. She knew that he got the point.

“Everyone here is just marriage crazy?” he asked.

She shrugged. “It’s just… what you do. It’s just the natural progression. Or a bad habit. Or a contagious disease. Or something.”

He snorted.

“You think I’m kidding? My three best friends from high school are already married.”

“And they’re all your age?”

She nodded. “And they all married their prom dates.”

His eyes widened. “Prom is like a giant mass engagement event here or something?”

“It’s serious. No one here believes in just… fucking around. Having fun. Doing anything… temporary. Everything is long term and about futures.” She sighed. “One of my friends married the only guy she ever kissed. They started ‘dating’ when they were ten. Another married the guy who asked her to prom. I mean, they had a little bit of an excuse. She got pregnant prom night.”

Mitch snorted again. “Prom is trouble around here.”

“Oh, for sure. But they’re still together and have two more kids.” She rolled her eyes. “And another friend, the one I had big hopes for, left her high school boyfriend behind to go off to college, but she only lasted a semester before she was back here, going to school in Dubuque, and planning their wedding.”

“Wow.” Mitch nodded. “Okay, so there’s a lot of pressure.”

“Oh, and that’s not even my family,” she said. “My grandparents eloped when they were seventeen. My parents were childhood sweethearts. My sister married her high school boyfriend and had two kids by the time she was twenty-four and she wants two more.”

“Josie didn’t marry her high school boyfriend,” Mitch pointed out.

“Only because she didn’t have one. Sure, she’s marrying an outsider, but she’s always been a romantic, wanting to settle down and the whole thing. And they’re living in a house that’s been in my family for five generations. She’s working a job in a business that’s been a staple in this town for fifty years. She’s seeing the same people she always sees. She sees my family all the time.”

“She must like it.” Mitch was frowning.

“She does.” Paige didn’t doubt that for a minute, and she didn’t begrudge her sisters their happiness. It was just that their lives made her feel restless and itchy.

“So what do you want?” he asked.

She took a breath. “It’s going to sound selfish.” Her oldest sister had flat-out told her it was selfish as a matter of fact.

“Hit me,” he said, making a come on motion.

“A Year of Aloneness.”

He studied her, then one corner of his mouth curled. “A Year of Aloneness?”

She nodded. “I want to go to Colorado and have a Year of Aloneness. I want to live alone in a new place where it’s not weird to be a yoga-doing, cat collecting, vegetarian. Where no one has known me for even six months not to mention since I was born. And where no one will propose to me.”

Mitch didn’t say anything for a long moment. “For a year, huh?”

“At least.” She could go a hell of a lot longer than a year not being proposed to. Or even just not being considered a weird failure. But a year seemed like a great starting point.

“And when does this year begin?”

“When I have enough money saved up.”

“Why Colorado?”

“Steamboat Springs is a gorgeous place with a happy, healthy population. They have hot springs and tourists. Seems like a good place to have a yoga studio. And while I save up money, I’m getting my massage therapy license too. Yoga and massages seem to go with hot springs and gorgeous walking trails with stunning mountain views, don’t you think?”