Chapter 4
MORGAN
I tried to convince myself I wasn’t nervous.
I’d walked into zoning hearings where developers shouted over each other, chaired meetings where half the room clearly thought I was underqualified and relocated my entire life for the chance to make a difference.
The idea of spending a day in the field with Slade Kincaid shouldn’t rattle me.
Still, I checked my bag twice before leaving my office to make sure I had everything I needed. I wasn’t about to let the hot cowboy get under my skin. Or worse, see me fail.
Men like Slade Kincaid were used to being indulged.
They were golden boys… town favorites with legacy names.
The kind who mistook confidence for competence because no one had ever challenged them long enough to prove otherwise.
I wasn’t here to admire the scenery. Or him.
I was here to do my job, and if he made that harder than it needed to be, he’d suffer the consequences.
Slade didn’t seem reckless in the way a few of the locals had warned me he’d be. He was reactive. He pushed back when he felt cornered and bristled when authority brushed too close to his pride. Men like that didn’t scare me, but they could derail things if I wasn’t careful.
I locked my office and headed out front where Slade’s truck idled at the curb.
He stood next to the passenger-side door, his shoulders looking even broader than I remembered under his thick jacket.
He wasn’t scrolling his phone or leaning casually against the hood.
He was waiting. That alone told me more than the rumors could.
He wasn’t trying to impress me. Worse, he was measuring me.
The realization tightened something in my chest. I’d spent years walking into rooms where people decided who I was before they took the time to get to know me.
“Morning,” he said when he spotted me.
“Good morning.”
The cab of his truck was warm, and the windows fogged almost immediately once he shut the door behind me. Inside, it smelled like coffee and leather. I set my bag at my feet and buckled my seatbelt as he got behind the wheel.
We drove in silence for the first few miles, the road narrowing as town fell away and the mountains rose up around us. I tried to focus on the landscape instead of the awareness prickling along my skin.
“I want to start with the access routes,” I said to break the silence. “Before we get into parcel measurements.”
Slade glanced over. “Makes sense. I’ll head there first.”
We parked near the lower ridge where the snow had been packed down by truck tires and hooves. The cold hit harder out here without anything to slow it down. I pulled my gloves on and unloaded my equipment, laying everything out in neat, deliberate order.
Slade watched from a few steps back, his arms crossed and expression unreadable.
“Before you say it,” I said without looking up, “I know this probably feels excessive.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You were about to.”
He let out an impatient huff. “I was about to say you won’t see half of what matters from a map.”
I straightened and met his gaze. “Then show me.”
That gave him pause, but only for a second. Then he turned and started toward the ridge.
I followed, my boots crunching through the snow, trying to keep up. He didn’t slow down for me this time, but he didn’t surge ahead either. That seemed intentional, not exactly accommodating, but respectful. I didn’t know how I felt about that yet.
As we trudged across the snow, I explained what I was looking for and why certain slopes mattered, how drainage patterns could change with one bad storm, and why emergency access was something that had to be considered early on.
He countered with the knowledge he had from actually spending time on the land, like where water pooled after the spring melt, which paths stayed solid longest, and where horses naturally cut across terrain instead of following roads.
We disagreed more often than we found common ground, but neither of us dismissed the other.
At one point, I flagged an area near a shallow incline. “If you route vehicles through here, you’ll need reinforcement.”
Slade crouched, brushed snow aside, and pressed his palm into the ground underneath. He stayed there for a few long beats, his expression thoughtful.
“You’re right,” he said. “This ground turns into a mud soup every April.”
He was listening to me and taking my opinion into account when I’d expected him to be dismissive. The realization had me looking at him in a new light. Maybe he wasn’t dead set on being saddled with me. Maybe we could actually make this work.
We moved on, the rhythm between us settling into something that felt… workable. He stopped when I wanted to take a closer look at something. I listened when he warned me about footing or wind shifts. Exchanges between us weren’t exactly friendly, but they weren’t hostile either.
I was so focused on taking a set of measurements that I didn’t notice a patch of ice until my foot slid.
Slade’s hand shot out, catching me around the upper arm before I lost my balance. His grip was firm and steady. He didn’t pull me closer and didn’t make a show of it. Just stopped my fall like it was instinct, not opportunity. Somehow, that made it worse.
“Careful.”
I froze, way too aware of how close he was and how warm his hand felt, even through my coat. “I’m fine,” I said, though my pulse had kicked up a notch.
“You say that a lot.” He released his grip.
I exhaled. “It’s an occupational hazard.”
The corner of his mouth twitched before he had a chance to stop it, and that start of a smile made me laugh. He looked up in surprise, his dark brown eyes taking me in like he wasn’t sure I was capable of laughter.
“Let’s take a quick break.” He led me to a fallen log and pulled a thermos from his pack. “Want any coffee to warm you up? It’s strong.”
I took it. “As far as I’m concerned, coffee can never be too strong.”
His gaze flicked to mine. “That might be one of the only things we actually agree on.”
I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but it didn’t stop me from taking a sip. He was right, it was strong. Most men I’d been with didn’t know how to make good coffee. Slade Kincaid just earned a point, not that I was keeping track. Okay, maybe I was kind of keeping track.
He sat down next to me. “You didn’t have to come out today. You could’ve sent someone else.”
“I don’t send people into situations I wouldn’t walk into myself.” Steam rose from the lid of the thermos as I lifted the small cup to take another sip.
“I guess I didn’t expect you to know this much about planning,” he admitted.
Used to being underestimated, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “What were you expecting?”
He considered the question for a few seconds before answering. “I don’t know. Maybe I thought you’d shut down all of the plans before we even had a chance to get started.”
“I’m not here to make your life harder,” I said. “I’m here to make sure things work.”
He nodded, like that made sense.
“Thanks for the coffee. It was really thoughtful of you.” We might have butted heads most of the morning, but he obviously had a softer side. Maybe I could get him to let me see it more often.
By the time we packed up, the silence between us felt different… less uncomfortable and strained but still charged in a way I didn’t quite trust.
As we got back in the truck so he could take me back to town, I thought about everything I’d learned. “You were right about the runoff.”
He glanced over at me. “Well, you were right about the access road.”
Seemed like we’d actually found ourselves on common ground.
It felt good, and I should have left it at that.
That was the sensible choice. The professional one.
I’d gotten what I needed from the site review, confirmed a handful of concerns, and established a working rhythm with Slade that didn’t feel like it might blow up at any moment.
“I want to look at one more thing,” I said. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wished I could take them back. We’d covered enough for one day. There was no need to push things any further.
Slade glanced up. “Now?”
“It won’t take long.”
He studied me like he was trying to decide whether this was a bad idea. Then he nodded. “All right. Where to?”
“I’d like to understand how the traffic pattern would move during an event.
Where are people going to park? Where are they going to congregate before the rodeo starts?
” They were valid questions and needed to be addressed but there wasn’t a rush.
For some reason I wasn’t ready to go home.
Not when the only thing I had waiting for me in my small apartment was a frozen dinner and an old episode of Gilmore Girls.
“I’ll show you.”
He drove over to an old barn that didn’t look like it had been used in the past decade.
It sat quiet against the snow, weathered and broad-shouldered, like it had earned the right to sag a little after all these years.
We got out of the truck, and I stopped a few feet in front of the big door, taking in the way the ground sloped and the nearby tree line that provided a break from the wind.
“Is this the only building you’ve got?” I asked. The question wasn’t really about the barn. It was about whether he’d thought this through or assumed the town would bend because the name Kincaid still carried weight.
Slade took a step toward me, not crowding me, but close enough that the worst of the wind hit him first.
“For now. It’s solid,” he said, resting one hand against a post. “Needs some work but the bones are good.”
I scanned the roofline, the supports, the history written into every board. “What do you have in mind?”
“We can use it for storage while we get everything else going. The arena needs to be out there.” He nodded toward an open stretch beyond the trees. “There’s a natural slope and better footing if it’s prepped right. This area drains well and won’t get slick or muddy during a summer storm.”
I looked up at him. “You’ve thought about this.”
He shrugged. “When you grow up riding the same ground, you start seeing more than what’s there.”
The wind blew harder, stealing my breath. I tucked my hands into my sleeves, annoyed that the cold was getting to me. Before I could brush it off, Slade shrugged out of his jacket and held it out.
“Put it on. You’re freezing.”
I hated that my body agreed before my pride did, but I slipped it on before I could overthink it. The jacket settled around my shoulders, warm enough to make me forget for a second why this was a bad idea.
“We’d need new construction,” I said, pulling my attention away from how it felt to be wrapped up in Slade Kincaid’s coat and focusing it back where it belonged.
“I imagine you’ll have to have chutes and pens for the animals.
You can use temporary bleachers but will probably need to bring in gravel for parking. ”
“And a spot for restrooms,” he added.
I snorted before I could stop myself. “Especially restrooms.”
Something like a smile tugged at his mouth.
“This land you’re offering,” I said, shifting my gaze to the ground. “Does that marker you found complicate any of it?”
Slade didn’t answer right away.
“Not directly,” he said. “But it’s close enough that I’m not pretending it doesn’t exist.” His answer told me more than a yes or no ever could.
“If we move forward,” I said, “everything we build has to stay clear of that boundary until the issue is resolved. That’s non-negotiable.”
His jaw flexed. “I agree.”
I looked up then, catching the concern he probably hadn’t meant to show. His jaw was tight like a man bracing for impact he couldn’t yet see.
“And you’re comfortable offering the land anyway?” I asked.
He met my gaze. “I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t.”
The wind shifted, carrying the smell of cold earth and pine. For a moment, neither of us said anything.
“This could work,” I said. “If you’re willing to be honest about the risks.”
His eyes held mine, steady and serious. “I don’t know how to do it any other way.”
I nodded. For a moment, the wind faded into the background. The barn, the land, the logistics… all of it fell away as something warmer and more dangerous took hold.
It was time to go. I handed his jacket back, my fingers brushing his as he took it. As I turned away, I was uncomfortably aware of the truth settling into my chest. The real issue wasn’t the rodeo. It was how much I trusted him already and wanted to see him succeed.
“I should get back,” I said, though I didn’t move.
“Yeah,” he replied. He didn’t move either.
For a split second it felt like something might tip. Like the space between us wasn’t just charged but waiting. Then he stepped back and gestured toward the truck.
“After I drop you off, I’ll send you the rest of the notes Dawson has.”
“Thanks.”
He reached the truck first and opened my door. The conversation lagged on the way back to town. Either he was all talked out or there was nothing left to say. Either way, I was glad when we reached town hall.
“Will you be at the Chill Thrill event this weekend?” I asked as I picked up my bag from the floorboard, my heart beating faster than it should have after a day of taking measurements and checking maps.
“Yeah. They’re donating the money they raise to the rodeo fund this year.” Slade reached for his door handle like he was about to get out and come around the truck.
“I’ll see you there.” I got out of the truck and shut the door behind me before he had a chance.
With a quick wave, I turned around, feeling his gaze on my back as I walked away.
I didn’t trust myself to turn around. If I did, I might have to admit that the real line I was in danger of crossing wasn’t on a map at all.