"He was soaking wet and his wife was filming it for their grandchildren. And you, Rose Gracen, stood in that creek in your boots and helped a seventy-two-year-old man out of the water and apologized seventeen times and then personally led his horse back to the barn like you'd committed a felony."
"I thought they were going to sue me."
"They left a five-star review. They called it 'the most authentic ranch experience in Colorado.' Mrs. Caldwell sent you a Christmas card."
"She still sends me Christmas cards."
"Because you'regoodat this." Denise's voice dropped, losing the playful edge. "Rose, listen to me. You built this place out of nothing. I watched you dig postholes and paint fences and sleep in your truck because the cabin wasn't finished yet. I watched you learn to run a business with no training and no safety net and nothing but pure stubbornness."
My eyes burned. I stared at the burrito wrapper because looking at her was too much.
She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. Her grip was warm and firm and real. "And if something does go wrong, I'll be here. Same as always. That's the deal."
The words settled into me like a hand on a wound. Not fixing it. Just holding pressure until the bleeding slowed.
"Okay," I said.
"Okay." She released my hand and tapped the binder. "Guest itinerary. Take a look at it later. I’ll go check on Taylor."
Then she was gone. Door swinging shut behind her, keys jingling as she took the porch steps two at a time.
At one-thirty Ireturned to my cabin.
My private cabin was small and simple. Two rooms, a porch, a view of the pasture I could see from my bed. It was the only part of the ranch that was entirely mine. No guests. No staff. No curated rustic vibes.
Just me and the faint, constant hum of my brain trying to anticipate disaster.
I walked up the steps and paused, fingers brushing the keypad lock Taylor had installed last month.
Denise's idea.
"Guests like keypads," she'd said brightly. "It's more modern. More… seamless."
Taylor had assured me it was secure. He'd shown me the app. He'd told me I could check the lock status any time.
I punched in my code. The lock beeped. The deadbolt clicked.
I stepped inside, turned and locked it.
I showered fast, scrubbing the morning off my skin like it was something I could wash away. The hot water helped remind my body it wasn't in danger right this second.
When I turned the shower off, steam filled the bathroom and fogged the mirror.
My face stared back at me through the blur.
Tired eyes. A line between my brows that hadn't been there two years ago. Hair still damp and curling at the ends.
I wrapped myself in a towel and stepped out into the main room, my mind already on the guest arrival in ninety minutes.
I needed to change into something professional. Something that saidcompetent ranch owner,notwoman who sleeps four hours a night and has to talk herself into calm.
I walked toward my dresser.
And then I saw him.
A man.
Inside my cabin.
