And then the silver truck pulls up. Calista steps out first. High heels, sunglasses, and a smirk that could curdle milk. Toby gets out next, smug, arrogant, arms crossed like he invented construction.
“Well, well,” Calista says, eyeing Cole and me like we’re the dirt beneath her feet. “Looks like we’re not the only ones running a survey today.”
She’s so delusional that she forgets that all this is mine. She’s on my turf. Cole’s jaw ticks, and I brace myself.
Toby circles the truck, stopping a few feet from us. “Didn’t know Iron Stallion was opening up the land to every contractor in town.”
I smile, polite and razor-thin. “We’re not, but you’re part of Dawson Construction, which is why you’re here.”
Quinn should have vetted her candidates more carefully.
Toby’s eyes glide over me with that same disdain I remember too well from the worst parts of ranch politics. “Interesting.”
Calista tilts her head, pretending innocence. “Cole, sweetheart, you should’ve told us you were bidding. We could’ve saved you the gas money. God knows you need it.”
I feel Cole tense beside me. He takes a step forward, but I grab his arm before he can say a word. His eyes cut to mine—furious, hot, wild. I shake my head once. Oh no. Not today. Not when the man is already stretched thin.
“Not like this,” I whisper.
His jaw clenches.
Calista raises a brow. “What was that, Cole? You have something to say?”
I squeeze his arm harder. He inhales slowly. “No,” he grunts, voice low and even. “Not a thing.”
Toby laughs under his breath. “Smart. Wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself.”
Cole’s entire body vibrates with restraint. I step in front of him, squaring my shoulders. “We’ll see you both at the bid submission,” I say coolly. “May the best contractor win.”
Calista smirks. “Oh, darling. We both know that’s not him.”
Cole lunges, and I shove my hand against his chest, forcing him back. “Hey. Look at me.”
He does, reluctantly, breath sharp, eyes blazing.
“Beat them the right way,” I murmur. “By winning.”
His chest heaves, fists unclench, and shoulders lower by an inch.
Toby calls out, “Try not to embarrass yourselves,” as they walk back to their truck.
I stay with Cole until they drive off, dust rising behind them. Only then do I release his shirt, my fingers lingering a half second too long. He looks at me, really looks at me, and something deep and unspoken passes between us.
“You okay?” I ask softly.
“No,” he says, honesty raw. “But I will be.”
I nod.
He exhales, glancing back at the field. “Let’s finish this.”
We get back to work, side by side, heat simmering, professional on the surface, a wildfire underneath. And for the first time in a long time, I feel something I haven’t felt in forever.
Hope.
When we’re done and walking back to the house, Cole brushes my hand with his—barely, accidentally-on-purpose—and even that tiny touch sends heat rushing up my neck. He notices, smirks at me, and I swear, I feel that look all the way down to my bones.
Today started in darkness, but it ends differently. Lighter and clearer. Because for once, I’m not the only one fighting ghosts. And for once… I’m not fighting alone.
