I had a guess.
But I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of watching me flinch at it.
“I don’t,” I said. “Tell me.”
She looked past me—over my shoulder—toward my family as if she were taking inventory.
Then her gaze returned to me. “I’m looking for answers.”
“So, am I,” I said.
A beat.
Then she smiled again, and this one was sharper. “I’m told you’ve been spending time with Micah Dane.”
My brothers shifted. Sunny barked louder.
My father stepped forward. “Ma’am, you’re done here.”
The woman didn’t even glance at him. She kept her eyes on me, like he was scenery.
“He’s not your business,” I said carefully, my voice low enough that it didn’t tremble.
“Oh,” she said softly. “But he is.”
The way she said it made my skin crawl.
My momma’s hand landed on my shoulder from behind—warm, steady. A reminder of who I was before this moment.
My father’s voice went cold. “Last warning.”
The woman finally turned her attention to him, like she’d just remembered he existed. “I’m not here to threaten you, Mr. McKinley.”
My father didn’t blink. “Then you’re here to threaten my daughter.”
The woman’s eyes flicked back to me, and for the first time, something like irritation surfaced.
“Threats are such a crude tool,” she said. “I prefer clarity.”
“Clarity about what?” I asked.
Her gaze dropped briefly to my left hand, as if looking for a ring that wasn’t there. Then back to my eyes.
“You’re in over your head,” she said quietly. “And you don’t even know it.”
My heart hammered, but my voice stayed steady. “You came to my parents’ home to tell me that?”
“I came,” she corrected, “because you’re close to something you shouldn’t be close to.”
I felt it then—the line she was trying to draw. The boundary she was trying to enforce.
Keep away from Micah.
Keep away from whatever he was connected to.
But she had chosen the wrong place to deliver that message.
Because this wasn’t my shop. This wasn’t a city sidewalk where I could swallow my fear and let her walk away.
