Finn was in the market for a new family.

He looked around the breakfast table despairingly. Not because one of the dogs was eating bacon on the table, or because Cam had upended a pitcherof orange juice — both were regular enough occurrences — but becauseGemma had her phone out. And Finn, like a prisoner facing a firing squad, was forced to watch as his life came to an abrupt end.

He didn't need to see what Gemma was looking at.

Not with his mother commentating the whole thing.

"Ooh, stop on this one," his mother said. "I want to look closer." She grabbed the screen. "My, she's pretty, isn't she?"

"She does model," Gemma said.

"I can tell."

"Wait until the Maldives." Gemma scrolled gleefully on the phone. "There's a picture of Sophia in a bikini under a waterfall. Her body's insane."

"Where?"

His mother lunged for the phone, and Finn groaned. "Don't like anything, Mom."

He would never live it down. Never. Sophia's teasing would be merciless.

"You know I'm not actually dating her, right?" Finn continued, helping himself to more scrambled eggs. "It's a business transaction." He pointed his fork at Gemma. "You're welcome, by the way."

Blush Wines now had a roaring trade going around most of Alberta, and they had even received a few online orders from B.C. residents. In their most recent pamphlet, Sobeys Liquor had called the Blush Pinot Noir "one to watch," which Gemma had promptly cut out and pasted to their refrigerator.

Not that Gemma was tripping all over herself to thank him.

She scowled. "Nice, Finn. Super romantic. Just what every woman wants to hear." Gemma shook her head, biting into a muffin. "A business transaction. I mean, really; no wonder Sophia doesn't want to date you."

"Hey!" Finn protested.

"Well, it's true."

"I can be romantic," Finn said equably. "I bought a necklace for a girl once."

Gemma snorted. "If she had a tail, then it doesn't count, Finn."

Finn's scowl deepened. Actually, the present had been for a nice — very human — young woman named Hermione. He paused. Wait. Or was it for a horse? Finn realized that having to think about it was probably not a good sign.

"Well, I'm glad that you're taking a break from riding, Finn," his mother said firmly, handing the phone back to Gemma. "I might finally be able to sleep."

Finn rolled his eyes. It wasn't as if he was choosing to take a break — the next rodeo wasn't until late May.He had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do for the next five months. Christ, he might actually have to focus on his schoolwork.

What a terrifying thought.

"I'll still be training," Finn said, digging into his eggs. "You know that, right?"

His mother sighed. "Well, you won't be on a bucking horse."

"It's perfectly safe."

"That," Gemma said, with relish, "is the stupidest thing you've ever said." She polished off her muffin. "And that's really saying something."

"Too right, darling," Cam murmured, and Finn shot him a betrayed look.

Et tu, Brute?

"At least you aren't a bull rider," his mother added, absently ripping up her toast. "Then I really wouldn't be able to sleep."

Finn paused in cutting a sausage. Actually, bareback riding was the hardest out of the three roughstock events; bull riding got all the glory, but bareback riding took more strength. Your riding arm absorbed all the horse's raw power.Like a water skier tied to a runaway boat.

He reckoned that now, however, was not the time to mention this.

Particularly since his mother looked on the verge of tears.

"I just keep thinking about last June," she continued, "in Ponoka." Her toast was a pile of shredded wheat. "All of that blood... for a moment, I thought you had died, Finn. I really thought you had."

"But I didn't," Finn said.

"A shame," Gemma said dryly, and Finn threw a piece of toast at her.

He couldn't remember falling from the horse, really, but he hadn't been afraid when he woke up in the hospital. Plenty of riders suffered a few dislocated shoulders. Broken bones were part of the job. Hell, Finn had been lucky it had taken that long.

His mother had been in the room when the doctor gave her prognosis.

"Two broken ribs and interior bleeding," the woman said. "Oh, and a bruised hipbone." She consulted her clipboard. "You're lucky, though; one wrong twist and you could have severed your spinal cord."

Finn's mother had been hysterical.

She had shouted at Finn until his ears rang and then threatened to run over his cowboy boots with her car. He wouldn't have stopped riding, though, and she knew it; it was the only thing that saved his beat-up pair of leather ropers.

Which was good, because those things were criminally expensive.

Finn couldn't afford to replace them.

Now, Finn chugged the last of his orange juice, rising from the breakfast table. His sister gave him a quizzical look.

"Where are you off to, then?"

"Airport," Finn grunted.

Gemma's face lit up. "Sophia's back?"

"She'd better be," Finn said, snatching up his car keys. "It's going to take me three hours to get there."

His sister smiled slyly. "Not that you mind."

Finn scowled. Well, no, he didn't, actually; in fact, Finn had thrown away all his dignity and practically begged Tabby to let him pick Sophia up from the airport. Not that he was about to admit that. To Gemma, or to Sophia.

If Tabby said anything, he'd kill her.

And then feed her to Una.

Finn hopped into his truck. He couldn't help but tap his fingers on the steering wheel, and by the time he reached Calgary Airport, it had become a full-on drum solo. He swallowed. It was fine. He was fine. It was just Sophia, after all.

Then she stepped out of the airport.

Finn felt like he'd been socked in the stomach.

She was dressed in a puffer jacket that swallowed her frame, and her oversized sunglasses were slipping down her nose. She was carting what looked like five Louis Vuitton luggage bags. Way too many bags for a month-long trip.

She looked absolutely ridiculous. And yet, Finn's heart was performing some bizarre form of aerial back flips.

He honked the horn, and she grinned.

"Miss me?" she called.

Finn swallowed. Yes.

"Obviously not," Finn drawled. "I finally got all of the matcha latte stains out of my car." He hopped out to load her bags into the backseat of the truck. "Bet you missed me, though."

"Not even a bit."

Sophia scratched her nose, and then quickly pretended to be adjusting her massive sunglasses. Finn smiled.

"Liar," he said.

"Oh, get off your high horse, Hoag."

He smirked. "Was that a pun?"

Sophia looked at him incredulously before jumping into the passenger seat, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like ducking farm boys.

They chatted about their holidays for most of the journey — well, Sophia did most of the talking, recapping her disastrous attempt at skating in some big Toronto square — and it wasn't until they were almost back in Bashaw that Finn threw a parcel on to her lap.

"Here," he said.

"What is it?"

"A Christmas present."

Sophia shot him a quizzical look before slowly removing the wrapping. Finn kept his eyes fixed on the road. After about five minutes, he felt like he might be sick. Good god. Could she open the thing any slower?

"It's a CD," Sophia said, flipping it over. "Is this homemade?"

"It's noises," Finn clarified. "Of the city." At Sophia's blank look, he added, "You said you couldn't sleep without them, right?"

Something flashed across Sophia's face — surprise? — and then she swallowed, carefully setting the CD inside her handbag.

"That's very..." She hesitated. "That's sweet of you, Hoag."

Finn could feel warmth creeping into his face. Oh, hell. She hated it, didn't she? She was being nice about it, but he could tell. He had overstepped. Things were weird.

"Yeah, well," Finn said gruffly, "I was sick of you complaining about being tired all the time." He shrugged. "Now I can enjoy my country music in peace."

"Gee, thanks."

"Anytime, Toronto." Finn winked. "Don't worry about getting me a Christmas present. It didn't take me long."

Just six hours, two cups of coffee, and a battle with YouTube over their piracy policies. Finn was still raging that the company wouldn't let him include ambulance sirens. An odd look passed over Sophia's face — something sheepish or secretive — but she shrugged.

"I wouldn't know what to get you, anyway," she said.

Finn could see the railroad tracks coming closer — like a friendly guard dog outside the Bashaw town limits — and he felt a sudden surge of panic. Classes didn't begin for another two weeks. And he had no other reason to see Sophia.

Did she want to see him?

He peeked at her. She was humming along to a country song, then seemed to catch herself, pulling a face.

"Oh, god, you've ruined me," Sophia groaned, reaching for the radio. "I can't believe I like this stuff now. It's awful."

Finn's lips twitched. "Just wait until you try line dancing."

Inspiration struck.

"Hey," he said. "What are you up to tomorrow?"

Sophia looked at him suspiciously. "Why?"

"There's a barn dance," Finn said. "Sort of a New Year's thing." He idled the truck, waiting for a train to rattle past. "As my girlfriend, you should probably be there."

He was striving for casual. Cool. Unaffected. Inside, Finn felt a lot like he was sitting on top of a metal chute, waiting to climb on to a horse hellbent on throwing him into the dirt. For fuck's sake. What the hell was it about Sophia that made him so nervous?

Sophia pursed her lips. "I don't have to wear flannel, do I?"

"No."

"Okay, then." She shrugged. "I'm in."

A surge of something went through him, bright and fizzy as champagne. Finn wasn't sure what they spoke about for the rest of the journey — Opus and Blush Wines and seeing her friends in Toronto — but he knew that the feeling wasn't fading. Oh, screw it. There was no denying it anymore: he liked her.

A lot.

And if he was brave, Finn thought, then he would tell her.

Tomorrow night, at the party.