I will not give him the satisfaction.
I stare at him carefully as he looks away, embarrassed. “You want me gone?” I ask as he looks back at me, but he says nothing. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.” I walk out of the mudroom and swing the door shut before stomping up the stairs and into my room.
I pace back and forth, going over the details of what just happened back there.
For one, Gage has been plotting this whole time to get rid of me. Not surprising. He hasn’t exactly been subtle about how he feels, but knowing he was actively trying to make this miserable enough for me to leave—that hurts.
I’ve wasted so much energy trying to help, trying to make things smoother, trying to treat this ranch with the respect it deserves… and all I’ve gotten back is resistance and hostility.
And to make matters worse—we almost kissed.
I didn’t imagine that.
We had a charged moment, and it almost went somewhere it shouldnevergo.
What am I doing?
More importantly—what is Gage doing to me?
Why do I care so damn much about what he thinks?
Why do I want him to acknowledge me in any way that isn’t scolding me?
And why, why, did a tiny part of me want him to kiss me?
Ugh. I feel awful.
I groan and flop back on my bed, staring up at the popcorn ceiling like it might have answers. This is the worst possible situation. Nothing actually happened, but we definitely complicated everything.
Maybe I shouldn’t have barged in and confronted him. Maybe I should’ve pretended I didn’t hear anything. Maybe then we wouldn’t have had… whatever that was.
But we did.
There’s no point in playing thewhat-ifgame. We crossed a line, even if barely. And I know Gage—he’ll pretend it never happened. Honestly, that’s probably the best-case scenario.
For now, the only smart move is to stay the hell away from him. My day was peaceful until I came home, and of course, I managed to make it worse.
That sounds on brand.
eight
Gage
Bullet’s barking echoes across the lower pasture as I pin another calf between my knees and snap a tag into place. The sky’s gone the color of old steel, heavy with the kind of storm that turns the ranch into a mud pit for days—but honestly? The weather’s still not the worst part of my morning.
I wipe sweat from my brow, straighten up, and that’s when I see my truck rolling across the property—slow, deliberate, completely unauthorized. Of course, the second I get a good look at the driver, my teeth grind.
Sloane. Of course it’s Sloane.
She pulls into the edge of the trees, kills the engine, grabs a bag of tools from the bed, and disappears into the woodslike she owns the place. Right there, mid-pasture, soaked in sweat and irritation, the thought slams through me—
I really cannot stand that woman.
Every time I get a plan together to push her out of my hair, she finds a new way to screw it up. I mean, what gives her the right to listen in on my conversation? Sure, it was about her, but that doesn’t make it any less private.
If she’s offended, that tells me she knows damn well she’s been a thorn in my side. Sure, I’m probably a thorn in hers, but at least I’ve got a reason—this ranch is my livelihood, my family legacy.
She’s here out of obligation. Temporary obligation.
