Solid.
Secure.
Perfect.
My eyes drift toward the yard.
The barn door is shut tight.
The fence line runs straight along the pasture.
The porch step that used to wobble is still steady.
And suddenly something inside me snaps.
“Oh hell no.”
I spin around, march back to my truck, and climb in again.
The engine roars to life.
Because if Cole Mercer thinks he can sneak around my farm fixing things without actually talking to me about it, then he clearly doesn’t understand who he’s dealing with.
Ten minutes later I’m pulling into the parking lot outsidePerdition.
The place is loud enough that I can hear the music from the street. Neon lights glow against the front windows, motorcycles lined up along the curb like a steel parade.
I climb out of the truck without bothering to check my reflection in the mirror because I already know exactly what I look like. My hair is twisted into a messy bun that’s halfway fallen out, mascara smudged under my eyes from a long shift, and my jeans and boots are still dusted with dirt from the barn. It’s basically my standard hot-mess look at this point, and honestly, I don’t care. I shove the door shut with my hip and head straight for the entrance, pushing through the door into the bar.
The music hits me the second I step inside, bass thumping through the floorboards while voices rise over the noise of conversation and laughter. The place is packed, bodies moving between the tables and the bar, the familiar smell of whiskey, leather, and sweat hanging thick in the air like it always does on a busy night.
It takes about three seconds for a man behind the bar to notice me standing there scanning the room.
“What can I get you?” he asks.
“I’m not here for a drink.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Okay.”
“I’m here to see Cole.”
He frowns slightly. “Who?”
“Ghost.” My patience snaps. “Where the fuck is he?”
A couple people nearby glance over at the sudden volume in my voice. The bartender studies me like he’s trying to figure out whether I’m about to cause a scene or not.
Before he can answer, a voice behind me says, “Why do you want to see Ghost?”
I turn around. Two women are standing there watching me with matching curious expressions. One of them has dark hair pulled into a ponytail, the other shorter with dark brown waves falling over her shoulders.
I cross my arms. “Because he keeps sneaking onto my farm and fixing things without permission.”
The shorter woman’s eyes widen slightly. Then something shifts in her expression. “…oh.”
The brunette leans closer. “Ooooh.”
I blink. “What?”
