Chapter Three
RONAN ALREADY KNEW what Acacia looked like even before walking into the bus station. A slim redhead of medium height, and although her back was turned to him now, he had a feeling the photo he had seen of her failed to capture the iciness of her blue eyes.
Her parents held high positions in one of the world's top banking chains. She had neither siblings nor cousins, being the only child of two career-minded individuals who were also raised in single-child households. As a result, Acacia had been raised by a succession of nannies and sent away as soon as she was old enough to be admitted to a ladies' boarding school.
She had no known interests or hobbies except for her keen interest in Greek mythology, and so it was no surprise she held a degree in Classical Studies. Her only job since graduating from college, which she had recently resigned from, was that of an on-call lecturer for private VIP tours in a boutique art museum. And since the Initiative was nothing but thorough when it came to conducting background checks on prospective residents, the report that landed two weeks ago in Ronan's inbox also included details of her ex-boyfriend and their breakup.
Acacia was dressed rather lightly for someone heading up to a frigid mountaintop town in Wyoming. A pastel oversized sweater that revealed the delicate slope of her shoulders, a denim skirt with a knee-high slit in the front and a pair of open-toed sandals that were as pretty as they were useless.
Ah, well .
She was sure to freeze in no time, but it would be a good lesson she was unlikely to forget for the rest of her life.
And speaking of lessons...
"Anything I can help you with?"
It was pretty easy to tell she had no idea what she was doing—
"I'm fine, thank you."
Just as it was also easy to tell from the courteous firmness of her voice that she wasn't used to feeling helpless.
Ronan took a look at her phone over her shoulder even when he didn't have to. "So...Hartland, isn't it?"
His lips twitched at the way she refused to look at him even as her body stiffened in visible affront. He generally preferred his women to be the malleable type, but there was something about this girl...
He moved forward to stand next to her, and her reflection on the ticket machine's glass display revealed her incredulity and frustration.
Seeing her gnaw on her lip, however, was what changed everything.
I want her.
He had a feeling that would be the case, and since Ronan had surprised the other members of the Initiative by requesting that today's task be assigned to him, the same thought had likely occurred to them as well.
He could feel her stewing next to him as he bought her a ticket. Her profile report had heavily implied a certain aloofness in her behavior, but it had mentioned nothing about Acacia possessing a fiery temper.
Did this mean he was the only one to bring out the worst in her?
Ah, sweetheart .
If he could make her blow her top this easily, then he had a feeling he could just as easily make her do and feel other things. The more forbidden, the better.
The ticket machine beeped as it dispensed her one-way fare to Laramie. Ronan had to fight back a smile as he handed it to her. The plan had been simple enough—make sure she made it to Hartland without incident. Being her knight in shining armor had been a last-minute improvisation, one that had already reaped unexpected benefits.
He could see the war within her—pride versus practicality, independence versus necessity. The way her slender fingers hesitated before taking the ticket from him. The way her lips parted, no doubt to utter some frosty expression of gratitude.
But then her eyes had glazed over, and he'd known immediately she was lost in some memory. Something painful, judging by the subtle tightening around her mouth. The ex-boyfriend, most likely. Claude Something-or-Other.
The Initiative's files had a lot to say about him actually, but Ronan didn't like wasting his time on people he didn't give a fuck about.
Acacia, however...
A memory from the past drifted in is mind.
A girl who used to matter to him.
But as soon as he realized who he was thinking of, Ronan shoved the thought away and determinedly fixed his attention on the present.
He had a job to do, and that job had to do with Acacia, who still looked as if she were lost in the past, just as he was a while ago.
"You didn't hear a word I said, did you?"
He couldn't resist breaking into her thoughts, watching as awareness flooded back into those crystalline blue eyes. The momentary disorientation. The pink flush of embarrassment staining her cheeks.
"I'm sorry," she said jerkily.
"Via doesn't offer any direct routes to Hartland from San Antonio," he murmured. "But when you get to Laramie, you can transfer to a local bus to Hartland."
He watched the conflicting emotions play across her face. Gratitude warring with suspicion. Relief battling with distrust. Most women would have been melting into a puddle of appreciation by now. Not Acacia Greenway.
That was what had caught his attention in her file. She wasn't like the others. She had backbone. And strength that came from having ice running through her veins.
He couldn't resist stepping closer, drawn by some primitive instinct he hadn't felt in a very long time. The scent of her—something light and floral with notes of vanilla—filled his senses as he leaned down, his lips deliberately brushing against the shell of her ear.
"You're welcome, darling."
The small, almost imperceptible shiver that coursed through her sent satisfaction flooding through his veins. There it was. The chemistry he'd been looking for.
Ronan continued watching her as she boarded the bus ahead of him, appreciating the gentle sway of her hips and the curtain of red-gold hair that cascaded down her back. He'd given her enough time to settle in before following, taking his assigned seat across from hers.
It had been almost comical watching her fall asleep within minutes, her body finally surrendering to the exhaustion she'd been fighting. How long had it been since she'd properly rested? Days, most likely. Flight instincts tended to override basic needs like sleep and food.
He'd spent those quiet hours studying her. The delicate arch of her brows. The way her chest rose and fell with each breath. The vulnerability that softened her features in sleep—a stark contrast to the defensive mask she wore while awake.
And now, catching her staring at him as she woke, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of something dangerously close to possessiveness.
"Enjoying the view, darling?" he taunted, enjoying the way her eyes flashed with indignation.
Ronan knew he was being deliberately provocative. It went against every protocol in the Initiative's handbook. His job was to observe, to facilitate her transition, to ensure she stayed in Hartland once she arrived. Nothing more.
But those rules had been written by men who hadn't met Acacia Greenway in person.
Her attempt to pay him back for the ticket amused him. As if $150 meant anything to him. As if money was what he wanted from her.
"How about we agree to call a truce," he offered instead, "and I'll consider your debt fully paid."
He watched as she put her money away, a small victory. Her willingness to talk about Hartland was another. But when he asked about the reason for her coldness, he saw the walls come up instantly. Thick, impenetrable barriers designed to keep everyone—especially men like him—at a safe distance.
It only made him more determined to breach them.
The sound of her stomach growling had been a welcome distraction. Physical needs were always easier to address than emotional ones. He'd taken his time selecting food for her, using the opportunity to observe how she responded to simple kindness. The confusion on her face told him everything he needed to know about her past relationships.
"I was wondering if I should just say it."
He'd seen the sauce at the corner of her mouth for several minutes before mentioning it, waiting for the perfect moment. When he finally reached across to wipe it away, the jolt of electricity between them confirmed what he already suspected. This wasn't just chemistry. This was something more powerful. More dangerous.
Her laugh when he asked about ice cream had been unexpected. A genuine, unguarded moment that transformed her face and sent something hot and urgent racing through his blood.
That sound. He wanted to hear it again. Wanted to be the cause of it. Wanted to discover what other sounds she might make under different circumstances...
Ronan leaned back in his seat, making a show of relaxing, but his mind was racing. The Initiative's plans for Acacia had been clear. Simple. Straightforward.
But now he was considering alternatives. Complications. Possibilities.
Hartland can wait , he thought as he watched her trying not to watch him. We have twenty-six hours ahead of us.
Twenty-six hours to learn what made her tick.
Twenty-six hours to discover her weaknesses, her desires, her fears.
Twenty-six hours to make her his.
As the bus rolled through the darkening landscape, Ronan reached for his phone and composed a quick message to the Initiative's command center:
Subject en route. ETA Laramie 11:00 tomorrow. Proceeding according to plan.
It wasn't entirely a lie. They were indeed heading to Laramie. She would indeed reach Hartland.
But the plan? That had already changed the moment he'd first seen her bite her lip.
"So," he said, setting his phone aside and focusing his full attention on the woman across from him. "You never did answer my question about ice cream."