I grit my teeth. “It’s just attraction. It’ll pass.”
He whistles low. “Yeah, sure. Any day now. Meanwhile, you’re out here playing peekaboo with your boner.”
From the office, Delaney straightens, stretching up on her toes to slide a file into the top drawer. Her shirt rises to show a soft strip of skin above her waistband.
My lungs forget how to function. My dick turns into a steel girder. The toolbox tips forward under the pressure, and I hike it back up with a muffled curse.
Ethan watches the whole display, eyebrows climbing. “You need a minute for some… self-care?”
“No,” I say through clenched teeth. “I need distance.”
Ethan claps me on the shoulder. “Brother, you’ve got it bad.”
“What I’ve got is a ranch to run. And an operations coordinator to manage.” I force myself to move away from that window and far from the curvy temptation in cotton and denim. “She keeps reorganizing systems that already work.”
“She made them better.” Ethan falls into step beside me. “Even Dad noticed. Said she saved us days by organizing thechaosof his invoicing system. And,” he adds, ticking a finger up, “she got the feed supplier to knock ten percent off without even trying. Dad almost cried.”
Dad. Who’s been locked in his office with bills spread across his desk like battle plans. Who mentioned insurance premiums doubling and feed costs that don’t make sense. Insurance up eighteen percent. Feed costs up twelve. Bank wants a meeting about “restructuring options,” which is corporate speak forwe’re worried you’re going to default.
The ranch is bleeding. Has been for months. And I can’t fix it by sheer force of will, which is the only tool I’ve ever trusted.
And Delaney… She’s not just capable—she’s invaluable.
That makes everything harder. Because now I need her here for reasons that have nothing to do with how she makes my chest tight and my thoughts scatter.
“Boys.” Miss Maggie appears at the back door of the ranch house, hands on hips. “You hiding from work or from that pretty girl who’s got Daniel looking like he needs a very cold shower?”
“Neither,” I lie.
“Uh-huh.” She studies me with eyes that have seen forty years of Sutton men losing their minds over women. “That girl’s good for this place. Don’t you dare run her off.”
“I’m not?—”
“You hover and glower and make everyone nervous. Including yourself.”
“Miss Maggie.” The warning in my voice would be enough to stop anyone else, but she just snorts.
“Don’t you ‘Miss Maggie’ me, Daniel James Sutton. You’ve been watching her as closely as a barn cat stalking a mouse. Only this mouse has sharp teeth, and you like it when she bites.”
Ethan chokes on a laugh.
“She’s an employee,” I remind Miss Maggie. Remind myself.
“She’s exactly what you need. A strong woman to handle all that”—Miss Maggie waves at me as we approach—“intensity you’ve got locked up. Just like your daddy was with your mama.”
The mention of Mom hits sharp like it always does.
I remember Dad’s face at her funeral. The way he aged ten years in a single afternoon. The way he looked at me afterward and said,You’re the eldest. You understand.
I understood. Understood how Dad shielded Mom from every tight month and hard decision until the day she died without ever knowing how close we came to losing everything twice over.
“Speaking of which,” Miss Maggie continues, “your daddy’s looking for you. Something about the bank calling.”
I nod. “I'll handle it.”
“Course you will.” Miss Maggie pats my arm. “And maybe take another shower before you see him. You look ready to eat something alive, and I’m guessing it isn’t a fence post.”
She bustles away, leaving Ethan laughing and me contemplating fratricide.
