Ruby waited, giving me space instead of trying to force anything out of me. “That sounds like a lot.”
I let out a quiet breath. “That’s one way to put it.”
Ruby didn’t press. She just nodded and topped off my mug again like the conversation hadn’t veered into something heavier. Her restraint told me more about her than any probing question could have.
“I was the reliable one,” I added after a long beat, surprising myself. “The one who did what was expected and didn’t rock the boat.”
Ruby’s movements slowed. “That can be its own kind of burden, sugar.”
I met her gaze then shifted to stare into my mug. “It can.”
“So why Mustang Mountain?” she asked, casual as ever.
The answer came quicker than I’d expected. “Because no one here knows me yet.”
Her mouth curved into something softer than a smile. “That cuts both ways, honey.”
She didn’t say anything else for a few seconds, and neither did I. The quiet stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt intentional, like she was letting the moment settle instead of rushing past it.
“For what it’s worth,” she said, her voice low, “Orville doesn’t make hiring decisions lightly. Folks around here like to assume shortcuts when they don’t understand why someone would choose this place.”
I nodded, even though my throat had gone tight. She hadn’t named the rumor. She hadn’t needed to. Before I could respond, the bell chimed again and two men stepped inside, stamping snow off their boots. Their conversation cut off the moment they noticed me, their eyes flicking from my face to Ruby and back again.
“You’re the town planner,” one of them said.
I turned. “Yes, sir.”
He gave me a quick once over. “You really gonna put a rodeo out there?”
His tone was short but not hostile. It sounded more like wary curiosity.
“I’m reviewing options,” I said. “There’s a lot to consider.”
“What about parking?” the other guy asked from behind him.
“And noise,” a woman said from a table near the window, her arms crossed like she’d already decided she didn’t like the idea.
I set my mug down and kept my expression neutral. “Those are exactly the things I’m looking at,” I said. “Traffic pattern, drainage, emergency services, capacity. If it happens, it needs to be built to last. Not slapped together.”
A few heads nodded. A few didn’t.
“What about the land?” the woman pressed. “Where’s this rodeo gonna go?”
“The Kincaids have offered acreage for consideration,” I said. “But there are conditions and approvals that have to happen first.”
Ruby’s gaze stayed on me, steady and watchful. I could feel her weighing not only my words, but how I delivered them. Whether I flinched. Whether I tried too hard. I didn’t. I couldn’t afford to.
The bell over the door chimed again. Slade walked in. Snow fell from his boots. Cold air clung to him like a shadow. He stopped short when he saw me by the counter. His gaze flicked to Ruby who was watching over me like a hawk and half a dozen townspeople suddenly invested in zoning and drainage like it was their new hobby. His jaw tightened, and I could feel it from across the room.
“Is it true the Kincaids are offering land?” someone asked, louder now, like they wanted to hear it straight from him.
Slade opened his mouth, but I answered first.
“They are,” I said. “With conditions.”
A sharp silence followed. Then a voice came from behind me, casual and dismissive, like it was nothing more than a fun fact. “Well, I heard her daddy pulled strings to get her down here.”
The words slammed into me like a punch to the gut. For a split second, everything went still. I didn’t turn or give them the pleasure of a reaction. I’d learned a long time ago that the fastest way to lose control of a room was to defend yourself emotionally. People didn’t respect explanations. They respected composure.
