Page 203 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

“I’m fine.”

“Mm.” She closes the laptop gently. “That’s your least convincing habit, by the way.”

I lean against the desk across from her.

The office feels smaller at night. Closer. Only the desk lamp glows, painting warm light across wood floors and scattered paperwork.

Annie watches me carefully. “You think the trap’s going to work.”

“Yes.”

“But…”

I exhale slowly through my nose. “But if it does, whoever’s behind this realizes we’re onto them.”

Understanding flickers across her face. “And you think they’ll escalate.”

“I know they will.”

The honesty hangs heavily between us.

Annie’s fingers curl loosely around the edge of the chair. “You can’t protect everybody, Silas.”

“No.”

My answer comes too fast. Too rough. Because that isn’t the real problem. The real problem is much worse.

I step closer before I fully decide to. Annie stills. The room narrows around us. Lamp light. Coffee. Rain beginning softly against the windows.

Her pulse flickering visibly in her throat. Mine hitting hard enough to hurt.

“I need you to understand something,” I say. Her eyes stay locked on mine. “When this started, I thought I was protecting the land. Then it became protecting my family,” I continue. “Cody, Duke, Ironwood itself.”

Annie swallows softly. “And now?”

There it is. The question I’ve been avoiding for weeks.

I look at her sitting there in my office wearing oversized socks and stubbornness as armor.

This woman who walked into Ironwood carrying temporary plans and somehow became essential before I noticed it happening.

The realization hits hard enough to bruise.

Because I know exactly what this means now.

If Annie gets hurt, there’s no version of me that recovers from it intact.

“I’m not just protecting Ironwood anymore,” I say.

Annie goes very still.

I take one final step closer. Close enough to touch. Close enough to feel heat radiating between us.

“I’m protecting you.”

The truth settles heavily into the room.

Raw.