Page 51 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

“Annie.”

I do not like the way my name sounds in his mouth.

That’s a lie.

I like it too much, which is obviously the problem.

“What?”

“You’ve been here a few weeks,” he says. “You know the ranch. You know the office. You know which coffee mugs are secretly Cody’s and which ones Sherry only says are communal because she’s choosing violence. You should know the town too.”

“That feels less like an invitation and more like a threat.”

“It can be both.”

I lean back in my chair and study him, because the alternative is agreeing too quickly and letting him think he can just show up with that grin and get what he wants.

Which, to be fair, he probably can.

Annoying.

“We’re ignoring the fact that you didn’t give me more notice,” I say.

His brows lift. “Annie, it happens every month.”

“Yes, but not every Sunday involves me being paraded in front of strangers holding casseroles and opinions.”

“Paraded is a strong word.”

“Escorted.”

“Still dramatic.”

“I’m an accountant with blue hair in a small town,” I say dryly. “Dramatic is what people are going to call me the second I walk in.”

Duke’s gaze softens. Enough to make my chest shift in a way I don’t appreciate.

“Come anyway,” he says. “I’ll stay with you.”

That’s definitely not romantic. We’re not doing romantic. We are barely doing eye contact for more than four consecutive seconds at breakfast.

But there’s a danger about the certainty in his voice. The way he says it like it’s simple. Like of course he’ll stay with me. Like that’s just a thing he can offer and I can trust.

I should say no.

I should absolutely say no.

Instead I hear myself ask, “Do I need to bring anything?”

His grin turns victorious, bright and immediate. “Your sparkling personality.”

“Oh, good…”

“And maybe a pie, if you want to avoid Betty Lou deciding you were raised by wolves.”

I sigh. “I hate that you know exactly how to manipulate me.”

“I know exactly how to motivate you,” he corrects.