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I HUFFED AND leaned back in my desk chair, eyes fixed on Eleanor, who had once again ambushed me with a project I apparently had to take part in. She and Tawnie sat in front of me, her phone propped up on the same tripod as last time, ready to capture this so-called interview. Eleanor sat off-camera, holding a list of questions she’d be throwing my way.

This was the second time she’d pulled something like this, and for reasons I couldn’t fathom, I didn’t say no. I was irritated, sure, inconvenienced without a doubt, but none of that stopped me from going along with whatever Eleanor wanted.

“Where are these questions even coming from?” I asked, my annoyance slipping into my tone.

“The internet,” Eleanor answered, her voice laced with that effortless sass she wielded far too often.

“I gathered that much, but are they going to piss me off? They better not be dumb questions.”

Eleanor sat up straighter, crossing her legs and leaning in slightly, the stack of papers resting on her lap. “Has anyone ever told you that you act like a grumpy old man?”

Tawnie giggled from her side, and I shot her a look, surprised at how quickly she’d taken to Eleanor. They were becoming two peas in a pod.

“I have,” Tawnie chimed in, her comment laced with humor.

Last night, when I saw them watching the sunset together, something twisted in my chest. Seeing Eleanor get close to someone I viewed as family—whether Tawnie realized it or not—was unsettling. The thought of Eleanor departing but still leaving an imprint on Stone Ranch and its people made my stomach turn.

Once she was gone, I’d need to erase every reminder of her. Starting with my truck—the one she’d ridden in too many times and where we’d gotten too fucking close. I’d already made plans to scrap it, ensuring no one else could share that space, wiping away any trace of Eleanor from my existence.

“The questions are from people on social media. They’re pretty good, if you ask me. If you think they’re dumb, just answer and move on. Look at the camera when you’re answering and remember to smile. Got it?” Eleanor leaned closer to the camera, ready to press play. When I didn’t respond, she looked up, her eyes narrowing slightly.

I nodded, tensing my jaw and straightening my posture.

With that, she hit play, not giving me time to react or throw a smart-ass comment back. I swallowed my pride and forced a smile at the camera, one filled with anything but happiness or comfort.

“So, Mr. Stone, question number one: How long ago did you start Stone Ranch?”

“I opened my first ranch nearly ten years ago. It took time to build up the funds and make the dream a reality.”

I became a CEO at thirty-two years old, the same age as Eleanor. Sure, I was given a decent chunk of change to get things started, but I still had to secure backing before I began building. I met with executive after executive, trying to market myself. Once, I was a young man with charm, able to talk my way to the top. Now, I was rugged, worn down by time, and somewhere along the way, I had lost the ability—or perhaps the willingness—to cater to people who didn’t give a damn about me.

Eleanor nodded, handing the first piece of paper to Tawnie before moving to the next question.

“Why a dude ranch for the elite? Don’t they have enough?” Eleanor smirked, clearly expecting to stump me. I scoffed, looking directly into the camera as I answered confidently.

“Stone Ranch is employee-focused. I charge what I do so I can afford to pay my employees well. Everyone, from management to hourly workers, is excited about our excellent salaries, benefits, and stock options that set them up financially. This approach ensures everyone is compensated well above the average for their roles.”

Use the rich to make the pockets of my employees full. Without them, these ranches would be nothing.

My eyes snapped to Eleanor, catching the surprise flicker across her face. Her triumphant expression faltered, replaced by something akin to being caught off guard.

“Next question, Miss Stewartt,” I said, waving my hand to signal her, my gaze unwavering.

Eleanor picked up the next piece of paper, clearing her throat before speaking. “Of all the businesses to run, why a dude ranch?”

It was an easy question. My body relaxed as I leaned back in my desk chair, tension easing from my frame with a deep breath. “I’ve always loved being on a ranch. It was my escape. I wanted to provide that for others too. My very first paying job was on a ranch, so I’m familiar with the process and hard work. I take pride in teaching the way of ranching to those who are interested.”

“What was your childhood like?”

I nearly choked on my inhale. No way was I delving into that, so I kept it brief. “Hard and disappointing.”

I shot Eleanor a look, silently urging her to move on. For once, she didn’t push, nodding instead as she handed the paper to Tawnie and moved to the next question.

“This one’s my favorite,” Eleanor said with a deep laugh. “‘Is there a Mrs. Stone? If not, I volunteer as tribute.’”

Tawnie joined in, both women giggling like schoolgirls. My nostrils flared, and I shot them a pointed look. “No, and as flattered as I am, no thank you.”

They continued laughing, forcing Eleanor to pause the video.