Page 127 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

He catches my eye and gives me the tiniest shake of his head, like I know.

Which would be more comforting if Duke didn’t seem so practiced at surviving people like Vivian.

“Annie,” Silas says as something of a greeting at least.

“Sit beside Duke,” Vivian says before Silas can do anything else. “It’s the most practical arrangement.”

I almost laugh.

Of course the woman who probably weaponized christenings and funeral seating charts her entire adult life thinks human placement is practical.

I take the seat beside Duke because making a scene at the literal start of dinner feels premature, and because if I have to sit next to one Harlan while their aunt dissects me, I’m choosing the one least likely to make me homicidal.

Duke leans in as I sit. “You look nice.”

“Thank you,” I murmur back. “I’m trying not to throw a bread plate.”

“Ambitious. I’m proud.”

A tiny spark of laughter threatens.

Vivian notices that, too.

Dinner begins with soup. The first few minutes are almost normal.

Almost.

There’s a murmur about the weather. Something about a land use discussion in town.

Duke makes a dry comment that makes Cody’s mouth twitch despite himself. Silas asks one of the staff members serving the meal to bring more water without ever fully taking his eyes off Vivian, which tells me this isn’t his favorite tradition either.

Then Vivian turns to me with a glance over the rim of her wineglass and a smile so polite it feels taxidermied. “And how are you finding Colter Creek, Annie?”

Her opening move.

I set my spoon down carefully. “Busy.”

“How diplomatic.”

Duke shifts beside me. “Aunt Viv, you know Annie has a lot of work here, and…”

She doesn’t look at him. “I’m making conversation.”

“No,” Cody says from across the table, “it seems more like you’re auditing.”

I shouldn’t enjoy that as much as I do.

Vivian’s gaze flicks to Cody, cool and dismissive. “If I were auditing, dear, you would know.”

Cody’s expression goes flat in that way that says he’s one controlled breath away from saying something genuinely impolite.

I file that away for personal enjoyment later.

Vivian’s attention returns to me. “So, temporary contract work.”

“Yes.”

“How modern.”