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Her head whipped around. “Sterling Hayes, I swear to⁠—”

But her retort died as we rounded the bend and the ranch came into view.

The dark opened up, and my house, big and lit up, rose out of the night.

She gasped, an actual audible little sound, before narrowing her eyes at me. “I thought you were a rancher,” she said slowly.

“I am.”

She pointed at the looming structure as if it were Exhibit A in a trial. “That is a very big house.”

“Yes, it is.”

“So…” Her eyes narrowed further. “You’re a rich rancher.”

“Yes, I am.”

I pulled up the long drive, gravel crunching under the tires as the house loomed larger. The gold light poured from the windows like it was welcoming us home.

We parked beside the front steps. She didn’t move at first, just stared up at the place with her mouth slightly open.

I tried to see it the way she was seeing it.

The huge stone facade, the wraparound porch, the tall windows glowing against the dark. It was the type of house people whispered about and pointed at on highways.

Her eyes tracked all of it as she climbed out of the truck cautiously, like she half expected the building to jump at her.

“Sterling,” she said under her breath. “This is like…Kevin Costner Yellowstone-level wealth. Are there butlers? Should I curtsy? I feel like I should curtsy.”

I bit back a smile. “You don’t have to curtsy.”

“I might anyway,” she muttered as she followed me up the steps, gaping as we approached the door. “This place is ridiculous.”

Inside, the foyer stretched open in a wash of warmth, its polished floors gleaming beneath high ceilings and thick wooden beams. She stopped again, staring like the house had smacked her with a velvet glove.

“Why does your entryway have an echo?” she demanded.

“It doesn’t.”

“It does in my soul,” she said in a cute, awestruck voice.

I let her look, let her brain work itself into knots while I watched her reaction with something that felt unnervingly close to pride. It seemed like she liked it. I wanted this to feel…good to her. Safe.

She crossed her arms, still gaping at everything. “Okay. Where exactly am I staying? And if you try to tell me there’s only one room available, I swear to all that is holy, Sterling Hayes, I will dick-punch you so hard you’ll yodel.”

My mouth twitched. “A guest bedroom, of course.”

She blinked like I’d surprised her. “Oh.”

Her shoulders dropped a fraction, something in her chest seeming to loosen as she took in the space again.

“Good,” she said, trying to sound firm and not at all relieved. “That’s…good.”

I bit back another smile.

“I’ll give you a full tour tomorrow,” I said.

“That won’t be necessary,” she shot back immediately. “Because I’m moving back to the inn tomorrow. Or another inn. Or a barn. Or a bench. Literally anywhere that is not your personal billionaire cowboy headquarters.”