Page 193 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

Her fingers tighten around the wooden railing. “At first? Polite rich people nonsense.”

“Ah.” I nod solemnly. “One of the deadliest dialects.”

“They offered me money.”

I blink. “What?”

“To leave.” She finally looks at me, disbelief still burning in her expression. “Actual money. Like I’m some kind of problem employee they can quietly phase out before quarterly reviews.”

Heat flashes hard and immediate through me. “What kind of money?”

Annie stares at me. “What?”

“I’m just checking whether we should feel insulted or deeply insulted.”

Her mouth opens. Then, despite everything, she laughs. “Duke.”

“Sorry.” I hold up both hands. “Inappropriate coping mechanism. Continue.”

She shakes her head once, but some of the panic leaves her shoulders. “She said Ironwood belongs to the Harlan name.” Annie swallows hard. “Not to you. Not to Silas or Cody. The name.”

“And?” I ask.

Annie watches me carefully now. “And she said names survive by removing threats.”

There it is.

“You’re doing that thing,” she says.

“What thing?”

“The thing where you go really calm and somehow that’s worse.”

I breathe out slowly through my nose. “That’s because I’m trying very hard not to drive my truck directly through The Silver Bit.”

“That seems excessive.”

“Baby, I’m actually underselling my emotional journey right now.”

That gets another tiny laugh from her. But it fades quickly. “She hates me.”

The words come out smaller than everything else she’s said. And damn if that doesn’t hurt to hear.

I turn toward her fully. “No, Vivian doesn’t hate people.” Annie frowns. “She categorizes them.”

The wind catches her hair again.

I reach out before thinking too hard about it, smoothing one bright blue strand away from her mouth.

She lets me.

“She decides whether somebody is useful, manageable, or dangerous,” I continue. “And once she picks a category, she treats it as fact.”

Annie studies my face. “You sound like you know from experience.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I do.”

The café door opens behind us again, warm music drifting briefly into the cold before the door swings shut.