Does Gage even know about any of this?
The thought settles heavy in my chest as I stare down at the paperwork. Because if he doesn’t, that means someone made decisions without him. And if he does… then this mess goes deeper than I thought.
And whether Gage likes it or not, he needs to know.
The first day doesn’t go as planned—of course it doesn’t—but I refuse to take the blame. I try to keep the peace with Gage.
I try to show him I’m serious about making this work for the sake of the ranch. But effort doesn’t mean much when it’s one-sided.
I don’t like him. He doesn’t care for me. That much is painfully obvious.
But this place matters to him in a way I understand, even if he’d rather choke on dust than admit it. And if there’s a problem buried in these records, I owe it to him—and to the ranch itself—to say something.
I slide the documents into the front of the filing cabinet so they’re easy to find later, then close the drawer.
Before I leave, I slide the simple bolt into place on the inside of the office door—not to hide anything, but because I don’t trust what might disappear if I leave it unsecured.
Outside, the sky is still washed in deep navy, the kind that comes just before sunrise. The land is already alive. Men move with purpose.
Gates open and close. Animals shift and settle. In the distance, I spot Gage in the same pasture where we nearly tore each other apart yesterday.
Of course he’s there.
As I walk toward him, I rehearse the conversation in my head.
Best case, he listens. Takes this seriously. Tells me to handle it and lets me work.
If that happens, I lean into my strengths and prove I’m not the liability he’s convinced himself I am.
Worst case?
He shuts me down. Tells me to stay in my lane. Accuses me—again—of sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.
My money’s on the second one.
I step through the gate and slide it shut behind me. When I turn around, I stop short.
Gage’s white shirt is lifted as he wipes sweat from his face, exposing a sharp line of muscle, a hint of a happy trail, and exactly the kind of distraction I do not need right now.
It’s unfair, really—how easily the male body can derail a woman’s train of thought.
I'm into that sort of thing. Just not with Gage. Definitely not on Gage.
I squeeze my eyes shut, take a grounding breath, and remind myself why I came over here in the first place. When I open them again, he’s pulling his shirt back down, already braced for a confrontation.
“Did you know there are permit issues?” I ask, getting straight to the point.
He sighs, like I’ve just asked him to explain quantum physics. “I see you’re snooping again.”
I scoff. “It isn’t snooping if you’re concerned about everything running smoothly.”
He chuckles, and there it is—that same condescending edge. “Right. And what do you know about running a ranch, Little Miss?”
He steps closer, invading my space, and irritation flares hot in my chest. I can’t believe I ever found him attractive. That illusion dies a fast, satisfying death.
“Running a ranch is more than barking orders, Gage,” I snap. “It’s about complying with laws and making sure you’re not getting screwed by the state or the county.”
He shrugs like I’ve just insulted his boots. “At Hollis Ranch, we run on instinct. Not bureaucracy.”
