I scoffed, irritated by everything he said and yet eager for him to talk more. I was a walking, talking cliché.
“Well, I don’t like being called darlin’, so I wouldn’t bother trying that line on me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said around a mouthful of smoke.
“What do you want?”
“JD sent me,” he said. “Said you’ve been having trouble out here.”
I stiffened. “I can handle my own trouble.”
“Doesn’t look like it,” he said, nodding toward the broken fence.
Heat flared in my chest. Anger and embarrassment and something else I didn’t want to name. I hated that he’d noticedthe broken fence right away. “Well, you don’t know a damn thing about what I can handle.”
He didn’t flinch and didn’t back down. He just looked at me with those steady eyes like he was trying to read the parts of me I kept locked up tight.
“Maybe not,” he said, “but I know sabotage when I see it, and since you put in a call to the cops about it, I’m guessing you want it to stop.”
The word hit harder than I expected.Sabotage.
Hearing someone else say it made it real in a way I’d been avoiding. I hadn’t wanted to admit it to myself or anyone else, because it made it real. When I’d phoned the cops, it had been in temper and I’d regretted immediately because not only did they not seem to take give much of a damn, but then later that day one of the kings of Anarchy had turned up to talk to me about it, bringing my worst fears to life.
I swallowed hard. “Why would anyone sabotage my ranch?”
“That’s what I’m here to find out, sweetheart.”
I hated that his voice was calm. I hated that he sounded sure. But mostly, I hated that a part of me—a small, traitorous part—felt relief at not being alone in this, and in knowing that I wasn’t going mad and that none of this was by accident.
“Sweetheart?” I said with a raised eyebrow and he cocked a wonky grin at me.
“You said you didn’t like to be called darlin’.”
I groaned and looked away from him.This man!
Tex looked at me for a long moment, then nodded once. “Look, JD asked me to look around and see if I noticed anything. I won’t be in your hair for too long.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he was already walking toward the fence, broad shoulders and large strides. His body moved with a quiet confidence that made something twist low in my stomach.
I followed him, boots crunching in the frost-stiff grass, telling myself I was only going to make sure he didn’t screw anything up. But the truth was simpler, and far more dangerous. I wanted to know what he’d find.
I followed Tex along the fence line, the cold morning air biting at my cheeks. He walked a few steps ahead of me, broad shoulders cutting a clean line against the pale winter sun. He didn’t talk and he didn’t fill the silence with pointless noise. He just moved with this quiet, steady purpose that made something in me bristle and something else in me settle.
I hated that second part.
He crouched near the broken section of fence, gloved fingers brushing the cut wire. I stopped a few feet back, arms crossed tight over my chest, trying not to stare at the way his shirt stretched across his strong back when he leaned forward.
Focus, Rowan.
“What do you see?” I asked, sharper than I meant to.
Tex didn’t look up. “Wire’s cut clean. Not torn or weathered.” He touched the end of the metal, turning it slightly. “Bolt cutters.”
My stomach dipped. I already knew it, but hearing him say it made the truth land heavier. It had happened several times this month already. And each time it had taken hours to patch up the breaks and even longer to go and find the animals that had escaped. But why anyone would want to mess with me like this, I had no clue.
“Could be kids,” I said, even though it sounded weak.
“Kids don’t use bolt cutters,” he replied. “And they don’t kick out posts this deep.” He tapped the base of the nearest post with his boot. “This took force and intent.”
