The heart of the nearly thousand-acre ranch comes into view. They built their house in the absolute best spot, situated on a hilltop with the mountains and a lake as a backdrop. It's definitely a jaw dropper.
"Fairfield isn't exactly slumming it," I say.
"Pfft, we might have high-end facilities, but we sit on less than a hundred acres. Without your sixty, we’re barely forty."
"What would you do with all this land anyway?" I ask as I take in the sprawling estate through her eyes.
"Same as you, I suppose," she mutters before turning to me. "Start a dream."
We share a second of what feels like a moment that could be a shared dream, a shared reality, both of us letting go of all the circumstances and history that kept us apart, and then the car comes to a stop.
"Remind me again, who are we meeting with?"
“Originally, we were meeting with Dar, the owner, but plans changed on the ride over, and now Mateo, their ranch manager, is going to be giving us a tour. We will meet with Dar this evening for dinner."
She nods, and I unbuckle my seatbelt, squinting through the windshield. A figure is already descending the porch steps, broad-shouldered, wearing a faded denim shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. The heat hits us like a wall when we step out.
Mateo closes the distance with his hand extended and a genuine smile beneath the shadow of his hat brim. "Welcome, welcome. You must be exhausted. That's a long drive." His handshake is firm and callused. "I'm Mateo. Sorry about the change in plans, but Dar had to be called away on business. You're in good hands, though, I promise,” he says, the Spanish rolling warm through his voice.
He turns to Asha, and his smile lingers. "And you must be Mrs...?"
"Asha," she says, extending her hand.
He takes it, holding it a beat longer than necessary. "Asha. Beautiful name. Suits you." His fingers linger a moment too long before he lets go. "I hope the drive wasn't too rough on you."
Instinctively, I move into her space and place my hand on the small of her back, spreading my fingers wide. The thin fabric does nothing to hide the warmth of her skin, and when her spine straightens, I know she feels the claim in my touch, and when she plays the part, my mind can’t help but short-circuit.Mine.
"We managed just fine,” she confirms before glancing up at me with surprise or one of her scolding glares; I can't be sure because I keep my gaze keenly tuned to Mateo. It can't be helped. A man knows when another is admiring what he has, and I'm making sure he knows she's all mine.
"She's tougher than she looks.” I pull her closer and feel her warmth against my side, the way she fits there like she was meant to. Her hip brushes mine, and the contact feels electric. "Aren't you, sweetheart?"
"Oh, absolutely," she says, her tone sweet and sharp as her hand comes to rest against my chest. The gesture looks affectionate to anyone watching, but I can feel the tension in her fingers. "If anyone had a rough ride, it was my husband, having to put up with being stuck with me for all those hours."
Stuck with her, as if that's what this is. As if the way I can't stop touching her, the way my body gravitates toward hers without permission, is some kind of burden. Her fingers curl slightly into my shirt, and I can feel my own heartbeat against her palm, hammering harder than it should be for a simple touch.
This is supposed to be for show, but the way my thumb unconsciously traces a small circle against her back, the way she doesn't pull away even as she cuts at me, coupled with the way we both seem to have forgotten to breathe properly, says different.
"Lucky man. Well, then, shall we get started? I promise to take good care of you both,” he says, slipping deeper into his accent.
His words snap us out of the haze brought on by yet another one of our petty feuds that exist for reasons I can't name. We break apart, but instead of missing her touch, I'm already anticipating the next one. Because that's what tonight promises, an entire evening of her playing the devoted wife, and every time she does, every touch she manufactures for appearance's sake, every smile she forces for our audience…it chips away at that wall she's built between us.
The pleasantries continue, small talk about the drive, the weather, the ranch's history. I'm half-listening when somethingpulls my attention sideways. Across the garden, past the cluster of plants and the wooden fence line, a man stands on the far porch. Just standing there. Watching. The distance makes it hard to make out details, but it's the stillness that catches me. Everyone else on the property seems to have purpose, movement. This man has neither.
"...and we've got about two hundred head right now, though that fluctuates seasonally." I blink, turning back to Mateo, who's gesturing toward the stables. The man is probably just a ranch hand, curious about visitors.
"Sounds good," I say, falling into step as we head toward the barn.
Inside, the air is cooler, thick with the smell of hay and leather. Mateo walks us through the operation with the ease of someone who's given this tour a hundred times.
"Our main focus is breeding stock," he explains, running a hand along a stall door. "We've got some of the finest Angus bulls in the Southwest. Bloodlines going back three generations, all AI-certified. We lease out bulls for natural cover during breeding season."
"What's your turnover like?" I ask, watching a massive black bull shift in his stall.
"We keep our prime breeding bulls for about five to six years. After that, if they're still performing, they're sent to smaller operations or sold for beef. But the genetics is where the real money is."
"And day to day?" Asha asks, surprising me. She's leaning against the stall, genuinely interested. "What does that look like?"
"Early mornings," Mateo says, that warm smile back for her. "Feeding starts at five. We've got a rotation for pasture management, can't overgraze, especially in summer. The vet comes by twice a week to check breeding soundness and docollections. Then there's maintenance, fence repairs, and water system checks. We run AI classes here too, teaching other ranchers proper technique. It's good supplemental income."
