“Once again, I thought you were the beauty queen.”
I turn my glare on Knox, ignoring Trouble. “By the way, this so-called bodyguard of yours doesn’t even know the beauty queen’s name. You sure you picked the right guy for the job?”
Trouble crosses his arms, still leaning against the post. “No one better than me. Don’t need to know names to keep you safe.”
My jaw tightens. “Fantastic. Can’t wait for the nightly curfew checks.”
Suddenly, I’m fourteen again, Knox looming in the hallway, playing the overbearing big brother deciding who can come within ten feet of me. It’s infuriating.
I shove past them, yank open the front door, and step inside before either of them can get another word in.
Of course. Because why wouldn’t his family own this place. Which means I’m not just anywhere—I’m onhisland.Hisranch. And the pieces suddenly click. PJ and her sons? They are the Stetsons.
This has got to be some kind of cruel joke.
I slam the door behind me hard enough to rattle the whole frame.
nine
Trouble
Beyond the trees, something flickers at the edge of my vision. I ease the reins. “Whoa,” I say, feeling the horse settle beneath me with a soft snort.
Curiosity pulls me closer, and as I round the bend, I spot her—Sawyer, standing on the edge of a hill near the back side of one of our barns. She’s in another damn pair of heels that don’t work with the uneven ground of this ranch.
"Careful now," I call out, easing the horse into a gentle walk as we draw nearer. "Would really hate to see you roll an ankle in those heels and tumble down that hill. But then again, it wouldn't be the first time we've seen a city girl disappear down there."
Sawyer pivots on those heels that look like they gotta hurt. "Very funny," she says, and those piercing blue eyes of hers catch the sunlight like the edge of a blade. "They probably chose death to escape you."
"Nah, city girls always like makin’ a grand exit around here."
Sawyer stands there, all defiant, and I can’t help butwonder what it is about this woman that sets my blood on fire.
"I dropped my clutch when I was about to get in my car, and your family dog took off with it." She gestures below where Benson is in his element, waggin’ his tail.
"Ah, Benson Bone's been into picking things up lately," I drawl, leaning back in the saddle. My gaze follows the erratic path of the dog, racing against the swaying field of wheat and wildflowers.
"Benson Bone?" She laughs as she watches him. "That's kinda cute. And he's adorable and all, but could you do something about it?"
"So, what you're saying is, you need a favor?"
"I guess you could call it that," she says. Her eyes roll up to the sky that matches them.
"All you gotta do is say please, but I doubt you’ll do that because it doesn’t seem like you have any manners."
Her lips part, but she says nothing, just as I thought. She's pride wrapped in blonde waves—a woman who'd probably throw herself down that hill rather than admit she needs help. Especially from me.
"You're one to talk," she finally fires back.
"Alright then," I say, amused. With a subtle nudge of my heels, I cue my horse to move. He begins to ease into a lazy walk away from her. I feel the weight of Sawyer's gaze on my back.
"Alright, can you please help me?"
I turn in the saddle, facing her. Without warning, I bring my fingers to my lips and unleash a sharp whistle. The sound rolls through the ranch. Scarcely a moment passes before Benson Bone answers the call. A grey-and-white blur charges toward us with a little wallet clenched in his jaws. The dog skids to a halt below me, kicking up a storm of dust.
"Good boy," I murmur. "Drop it."
Benson Bone's ears perk up, and the wallet slips from his mouth, landing softly on the ground.
