I stopped at the counter, close enough that Ruby's brows arched. That meant I had about thirty seconds before she kicked into matchmaker mode like I’d seen her with a bunch of the guys around here. I turned toward her instead of Rachel. “Do you have those work gloves I asked you to order?”
“They’re in the back, sweetheart. Let me grab them.”
“I'll get them.” I leaned over and whispered to Rachel, “Come with me.”
It wasn't a request, and I didn't frame it like one. Rachel's chin lifted like she was going to argue, but something in my expression must have landed, because she picked up her coffee cup and followed me.
The back hallway was narrow, lined with shelving units and boxes Ruby hadn't gotten to yet. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, but I barely heard it. I walked far enough that we were past the doorway, past where sound carried easily to the main floor, and stopped.
Rachel stopped three feet behind me, holding her coffee in one hand. The other was tucked into her front pocket. She didn't look nervous. She looked like she'd been waiting for this.
“What are you doing?” I kept my voice low.
“Having coffee. Asking questions.” One shoulder lifted. “It's what I do.”
I took a step her direction. “You're asking Ruby about stock certification paperwork for rodeo horses.”
“I'm asking anyone who will talk to me since you won’t. Ruby just happened to be standing there.”
“Ruby happens to be standing everywhere in this town. That's by design.” I crossed my arms and crowded closer. “What are you actually after?”
Rachel took a sip of her coffee and watched me over the rim like I'd just confirmed something she'd already suspected. “I'm writing about the rodeo. Slade knows that. Dawson knows that. The stock angle is part of the story.”
“The stock angle.”
“Three horses arrived without vet clearance documentation. One of them got pulled from the lineup. That's not nothing.”
She was right. It wasn't nothing. And the fact that she'd gone from watching me work the mare yesterday to pulling registry records today told me she could move faster than I'd given her credit for.
“It's also not a story,” I said. “It's a logistics gap. Paperwork gets delayed. Suppliers run behind.”
“You really think that’s all there is to this?” She tossed the question out between us, and it hung there, suspended in space, waiting for me to answer.
“If you keep pulling on this thread in public, in Ruby's store, where every word gets recycled through this town inside an hour…” I dropped my arms. “You'll make problems for people who don't deserve them.”
Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “Which people?”
“The ones trying to build something here.” I held her gaze. “Slade. Dawson. The guys who've put hundreds of hours into making this work.”
She tilted her head. “Are you one of the people trying to build something?”
The question caught me off guard. I'd walked back here to shut this down. Not for her to read me like a fucking book. But she was doing it anyway. Standing in a buzzing hallway with cooling coffee in her hand, she stared at me like the answer she wanted wouldn’t be found in the registry forms or in Dawson's careful evasions or in anything that could be filed and double-checked. It was on me.
And the worst part — the part that made my hand flex once at my side — was that part of me wanted to give it to her.
“You’d better get back out there before Ruby starts getting ideas.” I walked past her toward the storage shelf, close enough that I could feel the heat drifting off her without making contact.
Behind me, she didn't move.
I pulled the gloves off the third shelf and made myself focus on the label until my breathing settled.
Rachel was still standing in the hallway when I turned back. Just holding her ground in the buzzing quiet with her coffee in her hand and an expression that said she'd noted every second of my hesitation.
She'd asked the question for a reason. And I hadn't answered it for a reason. We both knew that. The honest answer was complicated, and the dishonest one would've been transparent to a woman like her.
So I took a step forward instead. “You need to stop.”
She didn't move. Her spine stayed against the shelving unit behind her, the coffee cup loose in her hand, and she watched me close the distance without giving any ground.
