Chapter 4
COLE
The sun on-site is brutal today, white-hot, unforgiving, the kind that turns steel beams into stovetops and men into shadows.
My crew is spread across the skeleton of what will eventually be a three-bedroom house, grunting through heat and deadlines.
If I had my full staff, we’d be ahead of schedule by a mile.
But I lost half my workers when Calista and Toby ripped into the company, and the ones who stayed are gripping with me through the wreckage.
I’m knee-deep in measurements, the tape stretched out between my boots, pencil behind my ear, when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I almost ignore it; anything not related to lumber, invoices, or court papers can wait. But then I see the name: Hank Morgan.
Well, shit.
My stomach sinks. There’s only one reason a man like Hank calls directly instead of contacting me through my office.
He knows about Ella and me. How we walked into that office together, and how I fucked up in every sense of the damn word.
I wipe sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand, then swipe to answer.
“Cole,” Hank says, tone clipped but not angry. That somehow makes me even more uneasy. “I need you to come down to Iron Stallion. Today.”
My spine straightens. “Is everything okay?”
He pauses a bit too long. “The family and I have something we’d like to discuss with you. In person.”
And there it is. My death sentence wrapped in politeness.
I can’t afford any more problems at the moment. I already have too much going on, but Hank Morgan is not someone you ignore. I might as well face the music and get it over and done with.
I close my eyes. “All right. I’ll be there.”
When he hangs up, I stand there for a moment, letting the heat press into the back of my neck like a warning. The men keep working around me—hammers thudding, saws whining, metal clanking.
I hear none of it. My mind is too jumbled with colliding thoughts: Hank’s firm tone, Ella pinned under me, breathless, warm, begging for more, and the cold truth that I fucked the daughter of the most respected rancher in the county, then walked away like nothing happened between us in that back office.
I grab my jacket off a sawhorse, yell to my foreman that I’ll be back later, then climb into my truck. I take note that Aria’s hair ribbon is on the dash, and one of her backpacks is in the back seat. Every inch of this truck reminds me that I can’t afford another problem. But I still drive anyway.
Iron Stallion hits me the same way it always does, like stepping into a different kind of world.
The land sprawls wide and arrogant, fences so pristine they’d make a lesser contractor sweat, barns standing tall like monuments.
I grew up admiring this place, sneaking glances over the fence line as a kid when my dad would drive us past it.
Then I got to work on it and quickly came to the realization that the Morgans are exactly who they think they are.
Never did I imagine that one day, I’d walk onto it with a secret like the one between Ella and me.
My boots hit gravel the second I step out, and then—
She’s there, standing on the porch, hands clasped, looking both guilty and exceptionally beautiful in the afternoon sun. My chest pulls tight. Her hair is down today, soft around her shoulders, and something inside me trips over itself at the sight.
She walks toward me, each step tiny but purposeful.
“Cole,” she says softly.
God, her voice. I didn’t realize how much it had been echoing in my head until I hear it again.
“Shiloh.”
She swallows. “Before you go in… I just want to apologize.”
My heart stops. “For what?”
She winces. “I caused this.” She pauses, making me even more nervous. “You know what, you’ll… understand in a minute.”
So Hank does know. Fantastic. And Ella is apologizing for not warning me sooner, or maybe she’s apologizing because she regrets it. The office. The heat. The way she said don’t stop.
My throat tightens. “How much do they know?”
“I didn’t tell them everything, just enough,” she rushes out nervously.
Her reassurance does nothing to unclench the knot in my stomach.
“Let’s just… go in,” she says gently. “They’re waiting.”
She leads me inside without another word. She’s close enough that I feel her body heat slip under my shirt, close enough that the entire walk through the hall feels like a test of willpower I’m losing, one breath at a time.
Her fingers brush mine only once, accidentally, I think, but it’s enough to send a sharp, traitorous jolt up my arm.
I can’t do this. Not with her right here, knowing exactly what her skin tastes like. I nearly turn back around, but it’s too late.
The living room opens up ahead of us, and the Morgan men look up in unison—four pairs of eyes, assessing, suspicious, sharp as barbed wire. With Ella beside me, it feels like walking into judgment day.
Zane leans back against the mantle. Jace is perched on his wheelchair, not to be mistaken for weakness; he’s like a soldier ready to deploy at a moment’s notice.
Beck’s arms are crossed, face unreadable.
Hank sits at the head like an old king who’s already made peace with whatever verdict he’s about to hand down.
Great. A tribunal.
My heartbeat thuds painfully behind my ribs.
“Cole,” Hank greets, voice deep, measured. “Thank you for coming.”
I stand straight, shoulders squared. “Of course.”
My eyes flick to Ella instinctively, as if I need confirmation that this isn’t a trap. She gives me the smallest hint of a smile. It’s barely there, but I feel it everywhere.
“Sit,” Zane says.
Ella quietly moves to stand beside her father, close enough to hear everything, far enough to pretend she’s impartial. Except she isn’t.
“How’s work?” Jace asks, tone neutral but loaded.
I clear my throat. “Busy. Trying to stabilize things since the divorce.”
Ella’s eyes flick to mine, a soft sympathy, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared.
“We heard,” Beck says. “About the settlement.”
My jaw tightens. “Yeah.”
Silence stretches. I brace myself. Any second now, they’ll mention what happened, and I’ll be sweating through this shirt and begging the ground to open up.
Then Hank clears his throat. “We have a proposition for you.”
I blink. “A proposition?”
“Yes,” Zane affirms. “We’re building houses. One for each sibling, right here on the ranch.”
Relief floods my system. So this is what I was called here for, and Ella was apologizing for telling them about the divorce, and not what happened between us. I feel like I just escaped a bear trap.
I stare. “All of them? That’s—“
“Big,” Jace finishes. “We know.”
“It’s a multi-home development,” Beck adds. “You’re going to be handling everything—land grading, materials, everything from the ground up.”
I sit back.
Holy shit.
Hank meets my gaze. “We want Dawson Construction to be our first consideration.”
For a moment, I don’t breathe. Not because I don’t want the job. God knows I do. It would save my company, give me the chance to buy out Calista, and put my entire life back on track.
But…
My crew is thin. The company is bleeding. I’m balancing fatherhood, financial ruin, and the aftermath of a divorce that chewed through my sanity.
And working here means working around Ella. Every day, on her land, in her orbit, with her eyes finding mine like they always do.
I rub my jaw. “Hank… that’s—that’s more than a job. It’s a full-scale development.”
“We know,” Hank says evenly. “We trust you.”
My throat tightens at that.
“You’ve always done right by us,” Zane adds. “Which is why we think you’re the best fit.”
I inhale slowly, mind racing. I don’t want to disappoint them or seem incapable, but I also don’t want to accept a job I might not be able to execute perfectly.
I pause for a moment too long because Ella speaks up. “I told them you are the right man for the job.”
Heat rolls under my skin, sharp and instant.
“I need time,” I request finally, voice low. “I don’t want to take something on if I’m not sure I can commit every resource to it. Not half-assed. Not rushed. And definitely not flawed.”
Jace nods. “That’s fair.”
“We’ll give you time,” Hank says. “But don’t take too long, son. We’d like to get moving soon.”
“Understood.”
The men stand one by one, offering nods. When they file out, Ella stays put, waiting, watching me. Her hands twist together nervously, and when she finally steps forward, I swear the room shrinks around us.
“I’ll walk you out,” she smiles and starts walking without waiting for my response. “I’m sorry I freaked you out earlier,” she murmurs once we’re alone in the hallway.
“You did,” I admit. “I thought Hank was about to break my jaw.”
She winces. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
We walk toward the porch. She’s quiet for a few steps, shoes clicking on hardwood, heart practically beating out of her skin. I can hear it in the silence.
I study her profile, the soft curve of her cheek, the way her mouth presses together like she’s holding something back. She’s beautiful. Even more beautiful when she’s nervous.
“You really are perfect for the job,” she praises softly. “The project needs someone like you, and I know you’d make something beautiful.”
I stop halfway down the steps, and she stops too.
The sunlight catches her hair, turning the strands gold and warm. I want to touch it, touch her. I want—
“I don’t know if working here is a good idea,” I admit, voice rough.
Her throat tightens. “Because of me.”
I don’t deny it. I can’t.
“There’s a line,” I say quietly. “I don’t want to cross it again.”
Her eyes soften, but her jaw lifts the tiniest inch. “Then don’t cross it. But don’t punish yourself by walking away from something that could change your life.”
She steps closer, close enough that her perfume drifts over me—peaches and something sweet. Close enough that the memory of her legs wrapped around me slams back into my body like a freight train.
“Think about Aria,” she whispers. “She deserves stability. She deserves everything you’re fighting for.”
God. She knows exactly where to hit me.
I exhale. “I will think about it.”
She smiles, but it’s small, fragile at the edges. “Good.”
I move toward my truck, then pause and look back one more time. She’s still watching and glowing. Still trouble. But the right kind of trouble.
I get in the truck, start the engine, and as I pull away, only one thought sticks with me: I’m in more danger from Ella Morgan than I ever was from a courtroom.
And I’m not sure I want to be safe.