Then I lean forward, voice steady. “Sierra. This isn’t a negotiation. It’s a safety measure. My bed’s against the wall, farthest from the door. Less exposure if someone busts in. The couch is directly across from the entrance.”
I lower my voice. “I’ll sleep there with a shotgun within reach. Not that I’m planning to let anything get past the outer perimeter, but we’re not taking chances.”
Her mouth drops open.
We finish our meal. Sierra insists on paying. I raise an eyebrow because I make good money and this is literally my job. She glares until I let her leave a tip.
Mary winks at me like she thinks she knows something I don’t.
Back in the truck, Sierra yawns. It’s late. Her head lolls and she startles awake.
I nod to the back seat.
“There’s a blanket. Pillow, too. If you want to take a power nap, I’ll wake you when we get there. It’s not far.”
“I don’t sleep in cars,” she says. “I’ve seen too many horror movies. That’s when the murderer attacks.”
I huff. “The only murderer you need to worry about is me if you don’t get some rest.”
Her eyes widen. “Was that a threat?”
“Figure of speech,” I mutter. “Sleep, darlin’.”
She grumbles but grabs the blanket. Ten minutes later, her head is against the window, lips slightly parted, breathing even. A strand of hair falls across her face.
I reach over on instinct to tuck it behind her ear.
I catch myself halfway.
No touching.
The kiss was a necessity, I tell myself.
There are rules.
But rules bend.
I brush the strand back gently anyway. Her skin is soft. She doesn’t stir. For a moment, my guard drops. The vulnerability on her face reminds me of sunbeams falling through barn rafters.
Brief. Beautiful. Rare.
The road to The Ranch twists through fields dotted with grazing cattle. The air smells fresher here. Like hay and dirt and possibility. The heavy weight that sits on my chest when I’m in cities lifts.
I roll down my window.
Sierra stirs, blinking awake. She squints at the scenery.
“Where are we?” she mumbles, voice sleep-thick.
“The Ranch,” I reply.
Chapter 5
Knox
TheRanchlooksdifferentat night.
In daylight it’s all big sky and bigger fences, men on horseback cutting across open land like they were born in the saddle. After midnight, the same place feels sharper. Floodlights. Cameras. Steel gates. A quiet kind of power that doesn’t need to raise its voice to be dangerous.
