The realization tightened something in my chest. I’d spent years walking into rooms where people decided who I was before they took the time to get to know me.
“Morning,” he said when he spotted me.
“Good morning.”
The cab of his truck was warm, and the windows fogged almost immediately once he shut the door behind me. Inside, it smelled like coffee and leather. I set my bag at my feet and buckled my seatbelt as he got behind the wheel.
We drove in silence for the first few miles, the road narrowing as town fell away and the mountains rose up around us. I tried to focus on the landscape instead of the awareness prickling along my skin.
“I want to start with the access routes,” I said to break the silence. “Before we get into parcel measurements.”
Slade glanced over. “Makes sense. I’ll head there first.”
We parked near the lower ridge where the snow had been packed down by truck tires and hooves. The cold hit harder out here without anything to slow it down. I pulled my gloves on and unloaded my equipment, laying everything out in neat, deliberate order.
Slade watched from a few steps back, his arms crossed and expression unreadable.
“Before you say it,” I said without looking up, “I know this probably feels excessive.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You were about to.”
He let out an impatient huff. “I was about to say you won’t see half of what matters from a map.”
I straightened and met his gaze. “Then show me.”
That gave him pause, but only for a second. Then he turned and started toward the ridge.
I followed, my boots crunching through the snow, trying to keep up. He didn’t slow down for me this time, but he didn’t surge ahead either. That seemed intentional, not exactly accommodating, but respectful. I didn’t know how I felt about that yet.
As we trudged across the snow, I explained what I was looking for and why certain slopes mattered, how drainage patterns could change with one bad storm, and why emergency access was something that had to be considered early on. He countered with the knowledge he had from actually spending time on the land, like where water pooled after the spring melt, which paths stayed solid longest, and where horses naturally cut across terrain instead of following roads. We disagreed more often than we found common ground, but neither of us dismissed the other.
At one point, I flagged an area near a shallow incline. “If you route vehicles through here, you’ll need reinforcement.”
Slade crouched, brushed snow aside, and pressed his palm into the ground underneath. He stayed there for a few long beats, his expression thoughtful.
“You’re right,” he said. “This ground turns into a mud soup every April.”
He was listening to me and taking my opinion into account when I’d expected him to be dismissive. The realization had me looking at him in a new light. Maybe he wasn’t dead set on being saddled with me. Maybe we could actually make this work.
We moved on, the rhythm between us settling into something that felt… workable. He stopped when I wanted to take a closer look at something. I listened when he warned me about footing or wind shifts. Exchanges between us weren’t exactly friendly, but they weren’t hostile either.
I was so focused on taking a set of measurements that I didn’t notice a patch of ice until my foot slid.
Slade’s hand shot out, catching me around the upper arm before I lost my balance. His grip was firm and steady. He didn’t pull me closer and didn’t make a show of it. Just stopped my fall like it was instinct, not opportunity. Somehow, that made it worse.
“Careful.”
I froze, way too aware of how close he was and how warm his hand felt, even through my coat. “I’m fine,” I said, though my pulse had kicked up a notch.
“You say that a lot.” He released his grip.
I exhaled. “It’s an occupational hazard.”
The corner of his mouth twitched before he had a chance to stop it, and that start of a smile made me laugh. He looked up in surprise, his dark brown eyes taking me in like he wasn’t sure I was capable of laughter.
“Let’s take a quick break.” He led me to a fallen log and pulled a thermos from his pack. “Want any coffee to warm you up? It’s strong.”
