Page 176 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

Then Annie Wright looks at me as if she can see every fracture line anyway, and suddenly withholding things starts feeling less like discipline and more like cowardice.

Which is deeply inconvenient.

The wind shifts across the fence line, cold enough to carry the scent of pine and damp earth off the lower pasture.

Annie still stands close beside me, one hand wrapped around mine because she refuses to let go and I haven’t found a single reason to either.

Her thumb brushes once against my knuckles.

Small movement. Disastrous effect.

I clear my throat lightly and look back toward the property. “Vivian’s been calling more often.”

Annie glances up at me. “That sounds ominous.”

“It usually is.”

That earns the faintest curve of her mouth, but it fades quickly when she studies my face more carefully. “She’s pressuring you?”

“No,” I say dryly. “She’s attempting a hostile corporate takeover using passive aggression and family obligation.”

Annie snorts softly. I like making her laugh.

“She thinks Ironwood’s image has become unstable,” I continue. “Too much noise. Too many questions. Too much gossip around the ranch lately.”

“Because heaven forbid people have personalities.”

“She prefers predictability.”

Annie cocks her head to one side. “Vivian prefers control.”

“Yes.”

“She’s worried about the investigation?” Annie asks.

“She’s worried about appearances.”

The fence creaks softly beneath my hand as I lean against it.

Annie’s standing beside me under moonlight holding my hand because it matters naturally, and I find myself too tired to keep protecting everyone from the truth of my life.

“She’s been talking about legacy again,” I say.

Annie’s brow furrows. “Legacy.”

“Heirs. Stability. Public perception.” My jaw tightens faintly. “The importance of the Harlan name remaining structured.”

Understanding flickers across Annie’s face. Then irritation. “She’s trying to manage your personal life now too?”

“She always has.”

I don’t usually say these things aloud because saying them aloud makes them sound exactly as suffocating as they are.

Vivian has spent years treating Ironwood as a dynasty that requires careful cultivation instead of a ranch run by actual human beings.

But I’ve been the primary investment since I turned eighteen.

Oldest son. Inherited responsibility. Inherited expectations. Inherited pressure.