Her eyes drop to my mouth and back up, slow. “Nash…”
“Yeah?”
“This is a bad idea.”
“Most of my best ones are.”
We’re inches apart now. Her hand lifts like she might touch my chest, then hovers mid-air, undecided.
Every muscle in my body is strung tight.
I could close this distance.
I could kiss her.
I want to kiss her more than I want a name on my next breath.
But behind that want is a picture of her face if this all goes wrong—the ranch threatened, the saboteur still out there, and me adding a fresh broken piece to the pile.
I stop.
She feels it. Her shoulders lower a fraction, not rejection—resignation. “Make your call, Nash,” she says, trying for light and almost making it. “We’ll practice the fake-relationship PDA another time.”
“Promise?” I ask before I can stop myself.
She huffs out a breath. “Go before I change my mind and kiss you first.”
I nearly do something catastrophically stupid then. Instead, I step back. “Goodnight, Laney.”
“Night, Nash.”
She slips inside. The door closes with a soft click that echoes louder than it should.
I stand there for a beat, staring at the wood, then force myself down the steps and away from the light. The yard swallows me up. I pull out my phone and hit Gray’s contact.
He picks up on the first ring. “Tell me this is a social call,” he says, dry.
“Not even close.”
“Tell me it’s at least not about damage.”
“Also not true.”
He sighs. “Hit me.”
“Kyle Stroud showed up at the Eager Beaver,” I say. “He’s sniffing around the ranch. Dropping hints about his daddy’s ‘investments.’ Talking leverage. Talking like he knows something we don’t.”
Gray’s voice sharpens. “Specifics.”
I give him a quick rundown—Stroud Holdings’ interest in the north pasture, the old complaint about ‘interference,’ Kyle’s little monologue about progress being inevitable and us standing in front of the bulldozer.
“And the way he looked at Delaney,” I add, jaw tightening. “Like she was already an acquisition.”
Gray doesn’t answer for a beat. Then, “Stroud’s always been thirsty for what he can’t have. Daddy’s money made him sloppy, not soft.”
“I want everything you’ve got on him,” I say. “On his old man. On the company. Land deals, backroom agreements, political donations, water rights. Any connection to the Keenes. Any hints of using ‘accidents’ to move reluctant sellers.”
“You’re thinking sabotage is part of a pattern.”
