I am new to True Ridge, though I am not new to Iron Bank. I transferred from Silver Shores after I got tired of dealing with the less scrupulous clientele we had there. Also, I grew tired of the town itself. There was something very melancholy about a port town gasping its last breath.
Melancholy has left a mark on my life long enough. It moved into my life the year I lost both parents and my sense of direction. I was a girl who adored her family; my grandmother was a woman who had already finished raising hers. She took me in, but her resentment was a quiet, honest thing. She wanted her golden years for herself, and looking back, I can’t say I blame her for wanting her freedom.
"There will be nothing else, Mr. Wade," I cut off the rambling man at last, watching the clock tick. "We’ve given you extensions that we will not be able to give again. Please be prepared for garnishments if we cannot come to an agreement about a payment plan. Have a good day, Dix," I mutter his name with mild disrespect because he has spent the entire half-hour of our call being wildly disrespectful.
He sputters. He wants my boss. I hang up with a smirk, knowing the one thing he doesn't: Iamthe boss. I just hit the big three-oh and yet here I am, running the show, headhunted the moment I put Silver Shores in the rearview. Half a dozen branches cleared a desk for me, and it felt good to be wanted. Now I just have to convince this crew that even if there’s a new Sheriff in town, we’re still playing for the same team.
"Be nice, Mare," I whisper to myself as I swivel in my chair, flipping open the folder on my desk. I looked at all my meeting portfolios over the weekend. It’s just my second week at the bank, so I am a little behind. Well, I am not behind by most people’s standards. Just my own. "You need to be nicer. True Ridge is very different from Silver Shores."
I swear this single statement has become my new mantra. I came to True Ridge for a life tucked into the mountains, drawn by the hardworking folks who make this town feel like home. It’s a world away from Silver Shores, where the banking was dirty and the clientele darker. Here, people are exactly who they say they are: good, kind, and decent to the core.
Staring at the file before me, I try to pin down why it’s been gnawing at me all weekend.
It’s a significant loan proposal for a pair of local contractors—brothers looking to expand their construction outfit. Everything looks fine, yet my gaze keeps snagging on the name of the man I’m meeting: Morgan Brant.
Every time my eyes snag on his name, my pulse stutters. Morgan Brant isn’t a man who needs a handout; he manages the fortunes of the local elite. He looks every bit a power player, from the tailored silhouette to the high-stakes confidence. Therein lies my issue with his request. If his pockets are as deep as they look, why is he knocking on our door?
"Ms. Carter, Mr. Brant is here for you," my new assistant Liah calls after a soft knock at my door.
I sit up straight, blinking away the fog of the file. I was prepared five minutes ago, but knowing he’s out there, waiting for a "yes" or "no," changes the math. This loan involves all the Brant brothers, but only Morgan gets under my skin. I can’t tell if it’s an instinct or a warning, but I’m about to find out. Clearing my throat, I square my shoulders, thank her softly, then climb to my feet. I need to meet him on even grounds.
Except the second I step outside my office to invite him in, the ground beneath medoes notfeel even at all. Or remotely level. He stands after I greet him, his bright green eyes warm as they meet mine. Morgan towers over me in one of those nice suits, his smile warm as he calls a hello.
Speechless, I spin on my heel and trip over my own feet.Great. A masterclass in competence.I storm into my office, trying to regain some dignity, but the air is already heavy with him. He smells like a mountain forest and a late-night cigar. I put the desk between us, seeking a shield, but he leans forward. Suddenly, the wood and the paperwork don't matter; he’s everywhere.
There it is. That low, treacherous voice I’ve been trying to drown out—the one that leads sensible women into absolute ruin. It isn’t suspicion gnawing at me; it’s pure, unfiltered attraction. I’ve spent weeks lying to myself every time I passed him on the street, but sitting this close, the truth is unavoidable. Morgan Brant puts me on edge because I amattractedto him.
There is no room for pleasantries or patience. "Mr. Brant...I have read the portfolio you presented. I see the numbers," my tone is calm, even a little bored, though I am anything but as he sits staring at me. No, I amfascinatedby him, with zero clue how to handle it. "All the pieces, the parts you want a bank to see. How about all the important pieces. Tell me about your brothers, what you want to build with them."
Morgan changes the moment he starts talking about his brothers. I can’t help my smile watching him speak about the other three brothers with a sense of pride. Not that he needs another endearing attribute to be attractive. He grins big as he trails off, before his eyes come back to mine as if he realizes he has been rambling about them.
For no reason whatsoever, I decide to put him in his place. Earlier, he seemed vexed to be meeting with me instead of Mr. Tomford. For no other reason than a modicum of self-preservation, I sit forward with a steely glare as I call him out for that reaction. "Yet you came to ask for a loan and thought it was a good decision to insult the loan officer," I accuse with a twist of my mouth. His eyes widen but I am shocked to see him smile too, his light eyes going dark as his pupils dilate. What does that look mean?
"I wasnotinsulting you, Ms. Carter," his perfect mouth curves in a big smile as his eyes trail over me, as if undressing me. "I was just surprised. I know Mr. Tomford, he has known us most of our lives, I just thought..."
Sighing, I nod. They always‘just think’a man is better suited. I grab hold of that comment with both hands. It is a perfect excuse to ignore how handsome he is. How his smile makes my stomach twist up, how good he smells, and how well that damn suit fits him. I’ve never noticed those things about any other clients. Time I treat him the same as I do all the others. "Youjust thoughta good ol’ boy would never think of turningdown a loan for a bunch of local good kids, yeah?" I am almost let down he is no different than any other man I have had to do business with.
In the very next moment, I realize how wrong I am. He is unlike any other man I’ve dealt with before. Because his bright green eyes flair, heat flooding them as he leans forward. That delicious scent fills my lungs as I hold my breath, waiting for whatever he is about to say or do. His eyes slide over me again and if I felt naked by the same look before, this is even more intimate. It’s almost as if he reached out to touch me with his big, rough hands, and I can’t hold back the tremble that works its way through me.
"Ms. Carter," he says my name with a hint of ice initand I hate it, though I earned it. "We are, in fact,goodlocal kids. Grew up here, learned to swing a hammer with our pop, celebrated our parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary with half of the town who loves them, and we work for free so often we’ve yet to turn an actual profit. We love what we do, we want to do it together, to build something good and worthwhile here in True Ridge."
I stumble to say something, but he won't allow it. There is something about the way he moves, a power in it. Morgan moves forward, sucking all the air out of the room. Those eyes pin me in place, the desk seeming to no longer exist with him so close. I catch my breath before speaks, that crooked smirk making his words hit all the harder.
"Not sure how often you deal with chauvinists or pricks pretending to be good ol’ boys," trailing off, he rubs at his beard as if he doesn’t much like the truth he just spoke. "That ain’t us,that ain’t me,you took me by surprise because.... well the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on, and it took me a moment to believe you were not a figment of a very lonesome imagination."
I stop breathing. Who needs air when a man like this gives you words like those? I’ve never welcomed compliments or flowery talk; to me they’re usually just the opening move in a negotiation. They soften me up for a pitch, whether they’re looking for a favor across this desk or to get me underneath them. Somehow, his words, said in a deep, rough tone don’t sound that way.
Still, for the sake of my self-respect, I pretend to be affronted. Offended by his come on. I am anything but. I am a little shocked, a little confused, and a lot turned on. Because mendo nottalk to me that way. I leave no room for it with my cutting glares or my biting words. I have had to fight my way through life to get where I am, so to be treated as soft or delicate by this man is a dangerous new world to find myself in.
"Uh...uh, Mr. Brant..." I stammer something about his thoughts being solely on what’s between my legs, but Morgan cuts me off, rising to loom over my desk. I start to shrink away, but then I do the opposite—I push closer. I’m addicted to his scent and the heat he gives off, that raw energy that's pulsed between us since he first walked in. I don’t know the first thing about handling this sort of attraction.
"Oh, Ms. Carter," his voice is so low it is as if we’re sharing a secret. His big hands plant flat on my desk as he towers over me, his gaze eating me up before he continues. "I most definitely thought about what is between your thighs. My preference would be me, since we’re on the subject. Though I am not sure you could handle what I would do to you."
How do you come back after that sort of thing is said to you—no, not said, promised?
I don’t move; I don’t even breathe. My entire world has narrowed down to the sight of him—the sheer width of his back and the raw power in his stride. The soft click of the door closing breaks the spell. Only then do I realize I’m shaking. My legsache, and I rub my thighs together, desperate to soothe the heat still thrumming through me.
"Holy shit," I mutter once I do breathe.
