Page 31 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

And that’s the moment I crumble.

CHAPTER SIX

Duke

The look on Annie’s face hits me right in the chest.

That’s inconvenient.

Not because I don’t like Annie. I do. Probably more than I should for a woman who’s been here about five seconds and already has both my brothers acting like something’s gone wrong in the accounting department.

I’m used to liking people. I’m good at it. I like half the town, most of the horses, and one mean rooster that’s tried to take me out every morning for a year.

No, what’s inconvenient is that this doesn’t seem to be an ordinary concern.

This feels more intense.

More personal.

She’s standing in the barn aisle as if the ground might not hold, one hand clenched around her camera strap so tight her knuckles have gone white, her blue hair dragged into a messy bun that’s trying its best to come apart, and her expression makes every instinct in me go dead serious all at once.

Which, for the record, I hate.

I’m excellent in a crisis, but I much prefer mine with less heartbreak in them.

“You okay?” I ask, because people still deserve the dignity of deciding how honest they want to be.

And then her face twists painfully.

That stiff, held-together look people get when they’re one careful breath away from falling apart and are deeply offended by the possibility.

Well.

Hell.

I set my Thermos down on the nearest feed barrel and take a slow step closer. Not too close. Annie has the vibe of someone who’d bolt if handled wrong, and while I’m a people person, I’m not stupid.

“Hey,” I say, lighter this time. “That bad, huh?”

She lets out the kind of laugh that got dragged over gravel on the way out. “You could say that.”

“Okay.” I nod once. “We can work with that.”

Her mouth twitches. She wants to smile just to prove me wrong, but it doesn’t quite get there.

I glance toward the open barn doors, where cold morning air keeps slipping in. “First things first, you’re freezing.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

She exhales. “I’m having a bad day. Don’t make me fight you about temperature.”

I lift my Thermos. “I’ve got coffee.”

She shakes her head.

“Tea?”