“Not yet.” Sutton’s voice is softer now, but certain.
John pauses, and when he speaks again, there is no hesitation. “Hudson’s already announced he’s stepping down at the end of the year. Loyalties are shifting. Colter’s the boss now.”
Boss. It makes me think of an oversized cartoon villain smoking a cigar in an oversized chair. Despite the imagery, the word hangs in my mind, catching on all the unanswered questions that have stacking up since I met Colter. I stay still, pressed into the shadow of the hallway, careful with every breath.
Pieces shift. Rattle. Start to align, even if the picture is still blurry. The way people in town go quiet when his name comes up. The respect, or was it fear?, that follows him like a shadow.
And now this.Boss.
I thought Hudson was simply the rich owner of several ranches. I thought Colter was simply his son, next in line—a man with too much arrogance, too much control, but still answering to someone else. But John doesn’t talk about him like he’s another ranch heir. He talks about him like he’s the one with all the answers. The one who says when the light turn greens.
Sutton releases a shaky exhale. “Then he needs to start acting like it. Keeping her blind helps no one. She deserves to know what she’s in the middle of.”
John doesn’t answer right away. The silence stretches so long I wonder if he’s even going to. Then, finally, his voice, low and resigned. “When he’s ready. He will tell her. Not before.”
The words settle deep in my chest, solid and certain.
So, Colter decides. About me. About everything. And no one, not even John, dares push him otherwise.
E lean back from the archway, careful not to let the floorboards creak under my feet. My heart thuds against my ribs, too loud, too quick, like it knows something my brain isn’t ready to name.
Boss. Protected. Law.
None of it makes sense, not fully. But it feels like I’ve been standing in a house with the lights off, stumbling over furniture in the dark and for the first time, someone’s cracked the blinds open to let the outline of the room show.
I don’t know what to do with it yet. I only know one thing for certain: Colter Shaw isn’t the man I thought he was. He’s something else entirely.
And whatever thatsomethingis, I’m already tangled up in it.
Not wanting to hear anymore, or to risk getting caught eavesdropping, I back out of the hallway and back to the front door, where I open it and slam it shut with more force than necessary, acting as if I have just arrived.
Footsteps start toward me, and I take a deep breath, put a smile on my face, and try to act as if I hadn’t spied on their conversation. Sutton peeks around the corner of the living room, her eyes scanning me fervently before her eyes land on mine. The tension she is holding in her shoulders immediately eases and she gives me a soft smile.
“Morning.”
“Morning, Peyton,” Sutton says a bit too cheerfully.
“Peyton,” John greets me as he steps up behind Sutton. “I hope you had a good time at the gala.”
“Umm, yeah,” I mumble awkwardly, my hand rubbing nervously at the back of my neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t call.”
John shrugs as he steps around his wife and goes to the coat rack to grab his hat. “Colter let me know that you were with him. He says he is also picking you up tonight before dinner.”
If he knows about what happened at the dive bar last night, he doesn’t say anything.
“Oh, okay,” I say and shrug. “He didn’t really give me a time so…”
John slides his hat on, adjusting the brim like it gives him an excuse not to meet my eyes. “He’ll let you know. Colter runs on his own schedule.”
My lips twitch into something that might pass for a smile, though it feels brittle.Yeah, I’ve noticed.
Sutton steps forward, fussing with a strand of hair that’s slipped from my bun like she can read the nerves I’m trying to hide. “We’ll be here if you need anything before then,” she says, her voice soft, her gaze too sharp. She knows something, or suspects I know something, and the air between us hums with it.
“Thanks,” I murmur, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.
John clears his throat, drawing Sutton’s attention back to him. “I’ll be at the south pasture if you need me.” His eyes flickto me for the briefest moment, steady, unreadable, before he pushes out the door. The screen slams shut behind him, cutting the tension in half but not dissolving it.
It leaves me with Sutton, who doesn’t look away. Her smile wavers, almost falters, before she catches it and presses it into place again. “Coffee?”
