8
COLE
I’ve been staring at the same blueprint for so long that the lines have started to swim in front of my eyes. But this one—this one matters—so I can’t afford to slack off. The Morgan project isn’t just another job. It’s not even just the biggest bid I’ve had a chance at since Calista and Toby carved up half my damn company.
It’s survival, my pride, and it’s the first time in months I feel like I’m fighting for something that’s mine.
I drag the pencil across the page, refining the angle on the ridge-beam elevation Ella and I sketched out last night. Just as she promised me, she’s been with me every step of the way, and I’m incredibly grateful.
My office is quiet, unnaturally quiet for mid-morning, but it’s the kind of quiet that lets me think and breathe without hearing Calista’s heels in the hallway or Toby’s fake laugh echoing through the building.
This design is the first thing I’ve felt good about in a long time. It’s clean, bold, and thoughtful. A mix of ranch tradition and modern warmth. It’s also laden with Ella’s influence, no question. Her ideas come fast, sharp, and intuitive. She sees possibilities from every angle, while I see structure, and somehow, it makes sense together.
I don’t let myself think about her for long. Thinking about her reminds me of our “collisions,” which will lead to trouble I don’t have time for. So, I force my attention back to the blueprint.
“You got this,” I mutter to myself. “Just finish the damn drawings. Submit the bid. Win the job.”
The confidence sounds good out loud. Too bad it feels like a lie.
The Morgan Ranch is huge, with multiple acres of potential. A legacy family with sky-high standards and a reputation that could make or break my deals for the rest of my life. If I land this, other clients will follow. If I lose… I shove the thought away. I need to focus, so I bend back over the paper—
And the door slams open behind me.
Of course it does. Everyone thinks my office is a public bathroom nowadays. For a moment, I think it’s Ella again, but things are good between us now, so she wouldn’t storm in like this.
I don’t even need to look up to know it’s them. Calista’s perfume hits first—sharp, expensive, and suffocating. Toby follows, a smug smile already in place. I take one slow, grounding breath before setting my pencil down.
“What do you want?” I ask, not bothering with politeness.
“We’re just stopping by,” Calista says lightly, leaning against the doorway like she owns it. Technically, she does own half. “Thought we’d share some news.”
“Tremendous news,” Toby adds, grin widening. “Spectacular, actually.”
My jaw tightens. “Spit it out.”
Calista pulls out a sleek folder and waves it like a trophy. “We landed the Weathersby contract.”
My stomach drops. No. No, no, no.
“That project was mine!” I boom. “I spent three months working on that proposal.”
Toby shrugs as if he didn’t just pull the rug from under me. “Well, we made them a better offer. More competitive andmodern. You know how clients are nowadays—trend-chasers. They want flash.”
“That project wasn’t flash, it was structural overhaul,” I snap. “You don’t even know the first thing about—“
“Relax, Cole,” Calista interrupts, smoothing her hair. “It’s business. We outbid you. Clean and simple.”
I stand, too fast, too hard. The chair scrapes loudly against the floor, and both of them pause. Even Toby’s smirk flickers for half a second before he lifts his chin.
These two are always looking for trouble. They almost made me lose my cool in front of Ella during the land survey. If she hadn’t held me back, God knows what I would have done to them. Now they’re back, taunting me by stealing a project I poured my soul into.
“I needed that project,” I say, voice low and steady, the way it gets when I’m dangerously close to losing my temper. “You knew that.”
Calista lifts her eyebrows. “And?”
“And you stole it!”
“We submitted a better proposal,” she retorts calmly. “It’s not personal.”
