“I’m not?—”
“Come out to the ranch tomorrow,” he cut in. “If there’s even the slightest chance of you understanding what we’re trying to do, you won’t get it until you’ve seen the land from the saddle. “
Ruby clasped her hands. “I like this idea.”
I shot her a look. “Of course you do.”
Slade’s eyes stayed on mine. “You want people to stop treating you like you’re temporary? Like you don’t belong?”
My pulse spiked. “That’s not what this is about.”
“It is,” he said, his voice firm. “Whether you admit it or not. If you’re going to redraw this town, you should know what it feels like under you.”
The words hit harder than they should have. I held his gaze, refusing to look away even as heat rose under my collar. “And this is your idea of proving something?”
“This is my idea of removing excuses,” he said. “Yours and theirs.”
Ruby’s grin was sharp. “Go.”
I glanced at her. “I didn’t ask for a life coach.”
“You didn’t need to,” she said. “Mustang Mountain hands those out for free.”
I looked back at Slade. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes issued a clear challenge. I could say no and probably should. But the sensible answer had kept me stuck in rooms where people assumed I was there to take notes instead of lead.
“Fine,” I said. “Tomorrow.”
Slade’s smile was slow and dangerous. “Wear better boots.”
“I’ll survive,” I said.
“That’s not the point,” he replied.
I didn’t ask what he meant by that because I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.
Outside, the cold slapped me back into reality. The sky was bright but edged with that particular winter glare that made everything look too sharp, too clean. Snow crunched under my boots as I headed for my car. I made it halfway there before I heard Slade behind me.
“Morgan.”
I stopped, turned.
He was a few feet away, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, the wind tugging at his hair. For once, he didn’t look like he was about to pick a fight.
He looked… wary.
“You don’t owe anyone here an explanation,” he said.
The words were so unexpected I almost didn’t process them. “I know.”
His jaw flexed. “But they’re going to push anyway.”
“I can handle it,” I said.
He stepped closer, stopping just far enough away to keep it from being inappropriate, but still close enough that my body registered his presence. “Good. Because I don’t want to watch them run you out of town over some story they made up.”
My throat tightened. “Why do you care?”
His gaze held mine, steady and frustrating. “Who says I do?”
