Chapter 7
seven
Sloane
Ithink I’ve been going about things wrong when it comes to Gage.
I’ve already come to terms with the fact that he’s never going to see me as an equal, so I may as well stop trying. But it’s deeper than that: he’s never going to see me as a partner in this ranch. Not in the way that means we both have a hand in the operations.
He’s gotten used to doing things by himself, and I’ve disrupted his routine—but mine has been blown apart too. My entire life has been uprooted for the next six months; the least he could do is be a little nicer.
It’s too much to ask, I know, but a tiny part of me hoped he would lighten up and warm to me, even a fraction. I keep telling myself I don’t care what Gage thinks of me personally, but it would be nice to have some common ground.
Either way, I know it isn’t going to happen, and the best thing I can do is stay out of his way for the time being—which is why today I decide to explore the area.
I’ve spent so much time focusing on how to get Gage to acknowledge my worth here that I never took the time to see the full extent of the ranch.
I also need a break from all the paperwork I’ve been reading through. I’m at the point where I feel like my eyes are going to fall out of my head if I don’t get some fresh air and a change of scenery.
It makes me glad the land has so much additional area to wander; otherwise, I’d be running into Gage more often, and I desperately need a break from the constant tension between us.
To be honest, if it wasn’t for digging through the property line paperwork, I’d never have known how expansive the land truly was—or how much of it had been quietly ignored.
And it’s large—larger than I ever expected.
There is an abundance of acreage here that is completely untouched, thick with forestry along the property line. I don’t even think Gage knows the full extent of it—and if he does, he hasn’t touched it in years or tried to do anything more with it.
It’s like he treats the ranch as if it stops at the top of the hill, ignoring everything beyond it, when Hollis Ranch actually stretches all the way into the far end of the wooded area past it.
I can already imagine how many more cattle or other livestock this land could support, and how much additional revenue it could bring in over time. But again, Gage would never listen to me.
As I walk along the dirt path, the canopy of trees offers perfect shelter from another scorching hot day. The quiet stillness is welcoming compared to the chaos back at the ranch, and for the first time all morning, I can breathe.
Honestly, this is the kind of solace I could get used to if it stays like this for the remainder of my time here. Everyone has been welcoming and kind—well, all the ranch hands, anyway—and they’re the only reason it feels worth getting up in the morning while I’m stuck here.
I dread getting out of bed and stepping outside, already bracing myself for another argument or another list of things I’m not supposed to do. Every morning feels like gearing up for battle, because I can’t even do anything on my own without it becoming an issue.
If it were up to Gage, I probably wouldn’t even be allowed to use the bathroom if he could find a way to prevent it.
Literally everything this man does sends me into a fit of anger, and I’m exhausted from carrying it around all day. What I’m looking for is peace and quiet—and that includes finally silencing my thoughts about Gage Hollis.
The farther I walk, the more clearly I hear a bustling creek. The water moves in small ebbs, preserving the stillness of the woods. Its gentle trickle over the rocks makes it feel like I’ve stepped somewhere quiet, tucked away from everything else.
Please, let me stay here forever.
When I look up, something catches my eye, half-buried in the brush and tangle of trees. I step across the larger rock formations to reach the other side of the stream, careful to keep my balance and not slip.
Once my boots hit solid ground, I push through overgrown leaves and branches—and then I see it: a rusty old station.
I walk over and brush some of the rust away to check the levels. They aren’t actively reporting anything; in fact, it doesn’t look like they have been for a long while.
The dials look broken, the panel dented, vines threading through the metal like it’s been forgotten for years. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was the original water main station—but that only raises a bigger question: where’s the new one?
I scan the stretch of forest around me, half-expecting to spot a newer station nearby, but there’s nothing—just trees, brush, and silence.
Strange—and not in the charming, old-Texas way.
So where is the water being tracked?
I look around again, not entirely sure what I’m expecting to find, but this station is clearly outdated and completely useless. It makes me wonder how long it’s been sitting out here, abandoned and unused.
I know Hollis Ranch has been around for several generations, so it’s possible the system was upgraded and relocated—but with modern environmental standards, that’s unlikely. Any update would have replaced the old equipment right here, not quietly moved it elsewhere.
The longer I’m here, the more things stop adding up, and I’m starting to suspect there’s something bigger at play. Gage will never look into it—he’s too stubborn, too set in his ways—and even if I bring it to him, he’ll insist I’m exaggerating or lying.
That leaves me on my own, which means it’s up to me to get to the bottom of it.
I wish I didn’t have to do it alone. I wish that, as my partner in this ranch for the time being, he’d actually work with me to build something instead of shutting me out—but that’s never going to happen. He doesn’t see me as a part-owner, and even if it stings, I can understand why.
On my way out of the woods, I make a mental note to have someone check the station—but for now, it’s time to head back, the heat already creeping up on me. I make my way up the hill, pass the barn, and head inside the main house.
Inside, I pour myself a glass of water to cool down and let myself roam the house, something I’ve barely done since I arrived.
I walk into the living room, take a sip from my glass, and study the photos lining the mantle. What stands out immediately is how much the Hollises value family. Different photos of the same man—who I’m guessing is Samuel—with various family members, including Gage, line the walls.
One old photo catches my attention: a young boy beside the same man, only younger himself. They’re mounting a horse together, both smiling straight into the camera.
I smile softly at it. Even as a child, I can tell right away it’s Gage. It’s strange seeing him smile so freely when all I’ve ever seen are scowls. I know he was a kid back then, but it’s grounding to realize he was happy once—before all of this.
I finish my water and turn to rinse the glass when I hear muffled voices somewhere in the house. I step away from the sink, listening more carefully, trying to place where the sound is coming from. I follow it down the hall and stop at the mudroom door, pressing my ear to the wood.
“I know we spoke earlier, but this can work.” He pauses—long enough for the person on the other end to respond. “She isn’t happy here any more than I am about her being here. If I can get her to leave willingly, then she breaks the clause in the will, and the ranch is completely mine.”
I straighten. My stomach drops. Seriously?
He’s plotting to push me out of here—with someone on the other end of the line?
I know I’m not the easiest person to be around, and I know I’ve come in here and disrupted his routine, but I never claimed I wanted control over this place. Honestly, the only reason I’m trying to do anything for it is so I can leave it in the best possible condition—for Gage.
The question I’m starting to ask myself is: why? Why am I even bothering to try? Why am I putting my best foot forward for a man who wouldn’t even appreciate it?
He thinks he can do and say whatever he wants because he was raised to lead this place, but he’s wrong. He doesn’t get to treat me like garbage, walk all over me, make demands about what I can and can’t do—and he certainly doesn’t get to belittle my character.
I will not allow Gage Hollis to drag me down into the dirt.
I push the swinging door open, and he jumps, turning toward me. His phone is still pressed to his ear as the other person talks on the other end of the line. I can’t make out what’s being said, but Gage looks like a deer in headlights as we lock eyes.
“I’ve got to go, Monty,” he says, hanging up.
“Oh, don’t stop plotting to get rid of me on my account,” I say as he straightens. I shake my head, and it feels worse standing in front of him now, knowing what he’s been doing behind my back—and realizing, once again, that it hurts because I care.
“Anyone ever tell you not to eavesdrop?” he asks—and I step forward, shoving him back against the washer. Metal clangs as he hits it.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What the hell is wrong with me? Me?” I yell—beyond tired, beyond frustrated. Who am I kidding? I’m way past that.
“Do you own a mirror, Gage? Or maybe you need hearing aids with your old age, because you clearly have no self-awareness if you think I’m the problem.”
God! I’ve never met a man so infuriating. He pisses me off so much I feel like I’m going to lose my mind.
“Now hold on a damn minute! I’m not that old. I’m forty-two, thank you very much,” he snaps, and I scoff before he continues. “And you said it yourself on the first day—you don’t want to be here. I’m giving you an out.”
Yes, I said that.
But that was before I started seeing all the issues.
Now that I’ve come across the old water station, I can’t just leave. I need to figure out what’s going on; otherwise, this ranch will have problems, and I refuse to carry that on my conscience.
“That isn’t your call to make! Besides, my leaving could have more complications than you realize—but you aren’t willing to hear me,” I reply, staying close enough to keep him pinned against the washer.
He isn’t going to walk away from me, not when this conversation has needed to happen—and boy, is it a long time coming.
It may be less a conversation and more an argument—something we’re both exceptionally good at—but we need to hash this out.
“I already spoke to the lawyer. All you have to do is go,” he says, softer this time—and he still isn’t getting it.
Everything I’ve learned—everything I’ve encountered since being here—is much deeper than just a will split between two strangers.
The problem is that Gage is too hardheaded to see it.
He has all the documents right in front of his face—has had them for years—but he’s so focused on operations that he never looks at the business or the environmental side of things.
This is why he needs me. But he will never admit that. Because in his mind, I came here to steal his land.
But one thing is for certain: whatever is going on, I’m beginning to think the will Samuel created was intentional. The question is—why?
“This is deeper than that,” I say as he scoffs. “I’m serious. I think something is wrong, and if you’d just listen—”
“—I don’t want anything from you, Sloane!” he yells, stepping forward and pressing me back against the wall, caging me until our faces are almost touching. He isn’t hurting me. He’s furious—and barely containing it.
I can feel the ghost of his breath against my lips and the musk of sweat clinging to him from the heat and his ranch duties. His steel-gray eyes swirl like an impending hurricane. They lock on mine—unyielding, furious—but I don’t miss the way his gaze flicks down to my mouth.
My pulse jumps. My breath stutters.
His hands brace on either side of my head, caging me in, and my chest rises and falls too fast. He’s just as breathless, his eyes darting back to my lips, like he’s fighting something he doesn’t want me to see.
He leans in.
And God help me, I find myself leaning in, right along with him.
My eyes flutter closed—then my brain snaps awake. I jolt, shove both hands against his chest, and force space between us.
No. No, absolutely not.
I slip out of the tiny space he built around me, putting distance between us like my life depends on it. My eyes widen at what almost just happened—what I almost let happen.
This cannot happen. Not with Gage. Especially not with Gage.
I get that it’s been a while since anything in my love life has been remotely alive—and even longer since I’ve had sex—but I’m not about to break that drought with him.
I’m not that desperate. This is the man who has treated me like absolute crap from day one.
The man who has never once shown me kindness.
I will not give him the satisfaction.
I stare at him carefully as he looks away, embarrassed. “You want me gone?” I ask as he looks back at me, but he says nothing. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.” I walk out of the mudroom and swing the door shut before stomping up the stairs and into my room.
I pace back and forth, going over the details of what just happened back there.
For one, Gage has been plotting this whole time to get rid of me. Not surprising. He hasn’t exactly been subtle about how he feels, but knowing he was actively trying to make this miserable enough for me to leave—that hurts.
I’ve wasted so much energy trying to help, trying to make things smoother, trying to treat this ranch with the respect it deserves… and all I’ve gotten back is resistance and hostility.
And to make matters worse—we almost kissed.
I didn’t imagine that.
We had a charged moment, and it almost went somewhere it should never go.
What am I doing?
More importantly—what is Gage doing to me?
Why do I care so damn much about what he thinks?
Why do I want him to acknowledge me in any way that isn’t scolding me?
And why, why, did a tiny part of me want him to kiss me?
Ugh. I feel awful.
I groan and flop back on my bed, staring up at the popcorn ceiling like it might have answers. This is the worst possible situation. Nothing actually happened, but we definitely complicated everything.
Maybe I shouldn’t have barged in and confronted him. Maybe I should’ve pretended I didn’t hear anything. Maybe then we wouldn’t have had… whatever that was.
But we did.
There’s no point in playing the what-if game. We crossed a line, even if barely. And I know Gage—he’ll pretend it never happened. Honestly, that’s probably the best-case scenario.
For now, the only smart move is to stay the hell away from him. My day was peaceful until I came home, and of course, I managed to make it worse.
That sounds on brand.