“Oh, don’t stop plotting to get rid of me on my account,” I say as he straightens. I shake my head, and it feels worse standing in front of him now, knowing what he’s been doing behind my back—and realizing, once again, that it hurts because I care.
“Anyone ever tell you not to eavesdrop?” he asks—and I step forward, shoving him back against the washer. Metal clangs as he hits it.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What the hell is wrong with me? Me?” I yell—beyond tired, beyond frustrated. Who am I kidding? I’m way past that.
“Do you own a mirror, Gage? Or maybe you need hearing aids with your old age, because you clearly have no self-awareness if you think I’m the problem.”
God! I’ve never met a man so infuriating. He pisses me off so much I feel like I’m going to lose my mind.
“Now hold on a damn minute! I’m not that old. I’m forty-two, thank you very much,” he snaps, and I scoff before he continues. “And you said it yourself on the first day—you don’t want to be here. I’m giving you an out.”
Yes, I said that.
But that was before I started seeing all the issues.
Now that I’ve come across the old water station, I can’t just leave. I need to figure out what’s going on; otherwise, this ranch will have problems, and I refuse to carry that on my conscience.
“That isn’t your call to make! Besides, my leaving could have more complications than you realize—but you aren’t willing to hear me,” I reply, staying close enough to keep him pinned against the washer. He isn’t going to walk away from me, not when this conversation has needed to happen—and boy, is it a long time coming.
It may be less a conversation and more an argument—something we’re both exceptionally good at—but we need to hash this out.
“I already spoke to the lawyer. All you have to do is go,” he says, softer this time—and he still isn’t getting it.
Everything I’ve learned—everything I’ve encountered since being here—is much deeper than just a will split between two strangers.
The problem is that Gage is too hardheaded to see it.
He has all the documents right in front of his face—has had them for years—but he’s so focused on operations that he never looks at the business or the environmental side of things.
This is why he needs me. But he willneveradmit that. Because in his mind, I came here to steal his land.
But one thing is for certain: whatever is going on, I’m beginning to think the will Samuel created was intentional. The question is—why?
“This is deeper than that,” I say as he scoffs. “I’m serious. I think something is wrong, and if you’d just listen—”
“—I don’t want anything from you, Sloane!” he yells, stepping forward and pressing me back against the wall, caging me until our faces are almost touching. He isn’t hurting me. He’s furious—and barely containing it.
I can feel the ghost of his breath against my lips and the musk of sweat clinging to him from the heat and his ranch duties. His steel-gray eyes swirl like animpending hurricane. They lock on mine—unyielding, furious—but I don’t miss the way his gaze flicks down to my mouth.
My pulse jumps. My breath stutters.
His hands brace on either side of my head, caging me in, and my chest rises and falls too fast. He’s just as breathless, his eyes darting back to my lips, like he’s fighting something he doesn’t want me to see.
He leans in.
And God help me, I find myself leaning in, right along with him.
My eyes flutter closed—then my brain snaps awake. I jolt, shove both hands against his chest, and force space between us.
No. No, absolutely not.
I slip out of the tiny space he built around me, putting distance between us like my life depends on it. My eyes widen at what almost just happened—what I almost let happen.
This cannot happen. Not with Gage. Especially not with Gage.
I get that it’s been a while since anything in my love life has been remotely alive—and even longer since I’ve had sex—but I’m not about to break that drought with him. I’m not that desperate. This is the man who has treated melike absolute crap from day one. The man who has never once shown me kindness.
