“Out,” I call back, not slowing. “I’ll be home later.”
And before she can ask anything else, I climb into my jeep, slam the door, and start the engine. The sound rumbles through my chest, matching the sudden certainty rising inside me.
Cole Dawson can hide behind silence all he wants. But I’m done waiting.
I shift into gear, turn onto the long dirt road leading out of the ranch, and let the determination settle deep in my bones.
I’m going to find him, and when I do, he’s going to tell me what’s really going on—with the project, with the company, with this thing between us he keeps pretending isn’t there.
One way or another, I’m getting answers.
6
COLE
I bury my hands in my hair and stare at the stack of invoices on my desk like maybe they’ll magically start adding up to something that doesn’t make me want to put my fist through a wall.
They don’t.
The numbers blur, ink smears under my thumb, my eyes burning from staring at spreadsheets for hours. And I still can’t make the goddamn math work unless I accept one simple, brutal truth: I’m running out of time.
Half my company belongs to Calista and Toby. Half my decisions aren’t mine anymore. Half my father’s legacy is balanced on themoods of two people who would rather watch me fail slowly than let me walk away clean.
I drag in a breath, close my eyes, and try to steady myself. It doesn’t work. The room feels tight. My chest feels tighter. Everything is one long, suffocating grind lately—responsibilities, finances, promises I’m trying like hell to keep.
And then—
My office door slams open so hard the hinges rattle. I jerk upright as Ella Morgan storms in like a woman possessed. She slams it closed with the same ferocity, causing a framed picture to fall off the wall, then stomps forward, fire in her eyes, hair tossed by the wind, breath coming fast.
She looks like trouble and everything I’ve been trying, and failing, to ignore since I walked out of Iron Stallion more than a week ago.
“That’s quite the entrance,” I manage.
Her glare darkens as she ignores me. “Do you have a phone?”
Lord, have mercy. I do not have the patience for this. I lean back in my chair, rub the ache between my eyes. “Ella—“
“No,” she snaps. “Don’t you dare say my name like that. Don’t you dare talk to me like I’m an inconvenience when you’ve been avoiding me like I’m the plague.”
“I haven’t—“
“Stop lying.”
Her voice cuts clean through the air, sharp enough to drag every excuse out of my throat. She steps forward, hands planted on my desk, leaning over it like she owns the room and the oxygen in it.
“You’ve ignored my calls for eight days,” she says, eyes locked to mine. “Eight days, Cole. Why?”
I hold her stare. I know I shouldn’t—she’ll see too much—but I do it anyway. “I’ve been busy,” I say, low.
“Try again.”
“What do you want me to say, huh?”
“I want to know why you’ve been ignoring me. Why have you yet to respond to the proposal we made?” she demands.
I grit my teeth. “Financials. Manpower issues. Scheduling. The project is—“
“Cole.” Her voice softens, but only slightly. “I know bullshit when I hear it. You’re avoiding me. Not the project. Me.”
