Chapter 3
EVERETT
The phone call was nothing. A supplier confirming delivery times. I could have ignored it.
I didn't want to ignore it. I wanted to get away from Rowan Cafferty and those hazel eyes that see too much. From the way she looked at me in that basement like she understood something I hadn't said out loud.
I stand on my porch now, staring at the tree line, listening to the creek that runs behind the property. The night air is cold. Good. I need cold.
Then help me prove you deserve to keep it.
She said that like it was simple. Like three generations of blood and sweat could be reduced to paperwork in cardboard boxes. Like I could just hand over the evidence of my family's worth and trust her to see it for what it is.
I hear her moving around upstairs. The creak of the guest room door. Water running in the bathroom. She's getting ready for bed, and I'm standing out here like a coward because I don't trust myself to be in the same house with her.
My phone buzzes. Mama.
Did she settle in okay?
I type back:
She's here.
Be nice to her, Everett.
I'm always nice.
You're never nice. Try harder.
I pocket the phone without responding. Mama thinks she's playing matchmaker. She doesn't understand that Rowan Cafferty could end everything I've built. Everything my father built. Everything my grandfather started with an axe and a dream.
The screen door creaks behind me.
"Couldn't sleep," Rowan says.
She's wearing sweatpants and a faded university t-shirt. Her hair is down, falling past her shoulders in waves I didn't expect. Without the clipboard and the professional armor, she looks younger. Softer. Human.
"Coffee's in the kitchen," I say without turning around.
"I don't need coffee."
"Then what do you need?"
She steps up beside me at the porch railing. Close enough that I can feel her warmth against the cold night air. "I wanted to apologize."
That makes me turn. "For what?"
"Earlier. In the basement." She's looking at the trees, her profile lit by the moon. "I pushed too hard. Asked questions that weren't about the audit."
"You asked why I hate you."
"Which isn't professional."
"No. But it was honest." I lean against the railing, facing her. "I don't hate you, Rowan."
Her name feels different in my mouth than Ms. Cafferty. More dangerous. She notices too. I see her shoulders tense.
"Then what do you feel?" she asks.
Too much. Way too much.
"I feel like you're gonna find something in those records that gives you a reason to shut me down." The words come out rougher than I intend. "Some permit my father forgot to file. Some form that got lost in the shuffle. And I'm gonna lose everything because of paperwork."
"Is that what happened with other audits?"
"There haven't been other audits. Not like this." I scrub a hand over my face. "New regulations. New oversight. They're looking for reasons to shut down small operations like mine. Makes it easier to let the big corporations take over."
"That's not—" She stops herself. Takes a breath. "That's not what I want."
"What do you want?"
She finally looks at me. The moonlight catches the gold in her eyes. "I want to understand."
"Understand what?"
"This." She gestures at the darkness around us. The trees. The mountains. The quiet. "Why it matters so much. Why you're willing to fight for it."
I should tell her it's just business. Just land. Just the family operation that pays my bills. That's what a smart man would say.
I'm not feeling smart tonight.
"Come with me tomorrow," I say.
"Where?"
"Into the timber stand. The one we're working right now." I push off the railing, turning to face her fully. "You want to understand? You can't do that from a filing cabinet. You gotta see it."
"That's not part of the audit protocol."
"Screw the protocol."
Her lips twitch. Almost a smile. "You're asking me to break the rules."
"I'm asking you to do your job better." I step closer. She doesn't back away. "You were a scientist, right? Before the county hired you. So be a scientist. Get your hands dirty. Look at what we're actually doing out there instead of what the paperwork says."
"And if I don't like what I see?"
"Then you write me up. Same as you would anyway." Another step. We're close now. Close enough that I can see the pulse jumping in her throat. "But if I'm gonna go down, I want it to be for something real. Something that matters. Not because my father forgot to sign the right form in 2015."
She's quiet for a long moment. The creek burbles in the darkness. An owl calls from somewhere in the trees.
"Okay," she says.
"Okay?"
"I'll come with you tomorrow." She tilts her chin up, meeting my eyes. "But I'm still doing the audit. This doesn't change anything."
"I know."
"And if I find violations—"
"You'll document them. I get it." I should step back. Put space between us. Go inside and lock myself in my room like a responsible adult. "Rowan."
"What?"
I don't know what I'm going to say until the words are out. "I'm glad you couldn't sleep."
Her breath catches. Just a small sound, but I hear it. Feel it like a physical thing.
"Ev," she says, and my name in her mouth is everything I didn't know I wanted.
I close the distance between us.
My hand finds her jaw, tilting her face up. Her skin is soft under my calloused palm. She doesn't pull away. Doesn't push me back. Her eyes are wide, her lips parted.
"Tell me to stop," I say.
"I can't."
I kiss her.
She tastes like mint toothpaste and something sweeter underneath.
Her lips are soft against mine, hesitant for half a second before she melts into me.
Her hands come up to grip my shirt, pulling me closer.
I angle her head, deepening the kiss, and she makes a sound in her throat that goes straight to my cock.
My other hand finds her hip. Pulls her flush against me. She gasps when she feels how hard I am, and I swallow the sound, kissing her deeper. She's warm and willing and everything I shouldn't want.
I back her against the porch post. Her spine hits the wood and she arches into me, her breasts pressing against my chest. I can feel her nipples through the thin fabric of her shirt. My hand slides under the hem, finding bare skin. Hot. Smooth. She shivers.
"We shouldn't," she whispers against my mouth.
"I know."
"This complicates everything."
"I know."
"Ev—"
I kiss her again. Harder this time. My hand travels up her ribs, stops just below her breast. Waiting. Asking without words.
She answers by grabbing my wrist and pressing my palm against her.
Christ.
I cup her breast, feeling the weight of it. Run my thumb over her nipple through the fabric. She moans, her head falling back against the post. I kiss down her jaw, her throat. Bite gently at the spot where her neck meets her shoulder.
"Inside," she breathes. "We should—"
The crunch of gravel cuts through the night.
Headlights sweep across the drive.
We spring apart like teenagers caught by parents. Rowan stumbles, and I catch her arm, steadying her. Her lips are swollen. Her eyes are dazed. She looks wrecked in the best possible way.
A truck pulls up next to hers. Hank's truck.
He climbs out, flashlight in hand, and spots us on the porch. Squints. "Ev? Everything okay?"
"Fine." My voice comes out rougher than I'd like. "What's wrong?"
"Got a call from the night crew at the processing yard.
One of the trucks broke down on the mountain road.
They need the backup." He looks between me and Rowan.
Takes in her mussed hair. My untucked shirt.
Says nothing, because Hank's worked for my family long enough to know when to keep his mouth shut. "I can handle it if you're busy."
"No." I step off the porch, putting distance between me and Rowan. Between me and the mistake I was about to make. "I'll come."
"Ev," Rowan says.
I don't turn around. Can't. If I look at her right now, I'll tell Hank to handle it himself. I'll carry her upstairs and finish what we started. And tomorrow, when the sun comes up, we'll both regret it.
"Get some sleep," I say. "We're leaving at six."
I'm in Hank's truck before she can respond. He pulls away, and in the side mirror, I watch her standing alone on the porch. Arms wrapped around herself. Looking smaller than she did five minutes ago.
"Want to talk about it?" Hank asks.
"No."
"Good. 'Cause I wasn't gonna ask anyway."
The truck bounces down the dirt road, and I press my hand against my mouth. I can still taste her.
Six AM is going to be torture.