“You’re coming with me,” I say, keeping my eyes on the road, voice steady, “while the lawyer checks to see if that fucking dating app of yours got it right.”
She huffs out a breath beside me.
“It’s not my dating app?—”
“If we’re still married,” I cut in, glancing at her briefly, “and when he gets back to me with his final report, I’ll let you know.”
Her jaw tightens.
“But Benji?—”
“Until then,” I continue, talking over her, my tone dropping, because this part is more serious now, “you’ve got a stalker. Someone already broke into your place. I’m not leaving you like a sitting duck back at the ranch.”
She goes quiet.
I can feel her looking at me.
Really looking.
“And this?” I add, nodding toward the road ahead. “This works. I keep you close. I keep you safe.”
“Safe,” she repeats softly.
There’s something in that word.
Something complicated.
I don’t dig into it.
Not yet.
“Anyway,” I go on, forcing a little edge of normal into my voice, “you’ll like South Dakota. Don’t think you’ve been there.”
She frowns slightly.
“What? How do you know that?”
I shrug.
“Haven’t seen it in your videos.”
Her head snaps toward me.
“Have you been following my socials?”
I huff out a short laugh.
“I didn’t even know they existed until a few days ago when you showed up,” I admit. “But I’m catching up.”
That earns me a look.
One of those looks.
Half surprised. Half something softer.
“And?” she asks carefully.
“And what?”
