“No.”
It’s not harsh. Not loud. Just… final.
“Why?” I demand.
“Because I said so.”
“Oh, wellthat’sreasonable.”
He stands slowly, and for the first time, I realize how tall he is. Broad-shouldered and serious, his dark eyes cutting through me.
I steady myself by drawing a slow breath.
But Dean isn’t done. “I’ve already upped my liability insurance for the property. If someone eats it on that slope, I’m not footing the ER bill. Liability’s a little more complicated than ‘but the view is nice’.”
My hands are shaking.
He crosses his arms. “I’m not risking a twisted ankle and a three-year legal battle because someone wants a golden hour glow. If Ivy wants scenic, she can take a picture. My premiums say no.”
“Wow.” I take a step back, suddenly aware of how close we’re standing. “Great speech. I hope they don’t invite you to give one at the reception.”
“I didn’t want this wedding here,” he says, low and even. “But Mason asked, so I agreed. What I didn’t agree to is a stranger showing up and acting like she owns the place.”
My pulse spikes.
“I’m not trying to own anything. I’m trying to do my job.”
“Then do it somewhere else.”
I blink, the pressure of the whole event suddenly rising behind my ribs.
And I snap.
“If you’re so worried about your liability insurance, maybe you should keep a better eye on your dog.”
His brows draw together. “My dog?”
“She let herself into the guest house and is currently napping under the bed.”
He blinks once. “That’s not my dog.”
I stare at him. “She seemed pretty at home.”
“She visits,” he corrects. “Frequently. And without invitation.”
“Oh.”
He shrugs. “She prefers my rug to her actual home. I’ve given up arguing.”
I open my mouth. Close it.
Because that doesn’t even make sense.
He’s trying to tell me a ten-pound dog has broken in? Staked her claim? And there’s nothing he can do about it?
There’s a brief silence in which I have to reckon with the fact that I’ve just yelled at a man about a dog that isn’t his, after already yelling at him about grass.
We’re off to a great start.
