Chapter 9
nine
Sloane
Iwake up with stiffness in my body and gentle soreness between my legs. The blanket slips off my hip, and I jolt upright before I even remember why I’m not in my room. Sunlight streams through the windows, too bright, too honest, and then the rest of it hits me all at once.
Gage and I had sex last night.
I close my eyes tightly, wishing I could wash away the memory, but that only makes it replay harder.
How did this happen? Why did I let it happen?
I groan at the truth of it—because I liked it. And that’s the part I don’t know what to do with.
I shouldn’t even be thinking about Gage like this, but I can’t help it.
The difficult part now is facing him.
Does he regret it? Knowing him, he probably does. He isn’t the type of man to share his feelings, and he doesn’t make a habit of talking to me.
Last night was the first time he truly spent any time talking to me about the ranch, and before everything that happened, he seemed pretty willing to finally let me in.
It was the moment I was hoping for, but then it was like a tornado, and everything spiraled into this sexually charged moment.
I didn’t hate it, but I wish I did.
Because liking him feels like the kind of mistake that costs something.
And I’m not sure I can afford to find out what.
It would make this easier.
But it doesn’t.
I get up, button the flannel shirt, and wrap the throw around my waist. My messy, disheveled hair falls onto my shoulders, and I stretch, trying to work out the knots and not think about why they’re there.
I head for the stairs, deciding it’s best to shower before I start my day.
After getting cleaned up and sorted for the day, I walk out on the porch and place my muddy boots back on my feet. The heat has returned, drying them and causing the once slick mud to harden and crack on the toes.
As I walk outside, I notice the truck has been returned, like Gage promised, and the boys seem to be back to work as usual. Looking around the place, I’d never think we had a crazy storm last night.
I walk toward the smaller barn, and Hank tips his hat to me. “Well, hello, Miss Carter. I hope the storm wasn’t too harsh on you last night,” he says with a friendly smile.
My mind drifts to when Gage helped me from the truck, flashing to his kindness as he attended to my hand, before drifting to us wrapped around each other on the couch as the storm raged outside.
I shake my head and force myself to smile his way. “It was forgiving,” I reply, and he chuckles. “Hope you stayed dry,” I add.
He chuckles again.
“Ah, well, as dry as you can after herding a whole slew of cattle with a grumpy owner and his cattle dog,” he says, and I smile at the way he refers to Gage. He truly is a grumpy man, but at least he’s surrounded by good people.
“Well, I won’t hold you up any longer. I’m sure you have work to do,” he says, patting my shoulder gently before walking off.
I sigh and roll my neck, already bracing myself for a long day—physically and mentally.
Thankfully, the water issue keeps me anchored. Once I get into the office, I dive into every document connected to water usage, filling a separate page with notes as I hunt for answers.
Every instinct I have tells me something is wrong, and if I can find evidence in these reports and put it in front of Gage, he’ll have to see that I’m not imagining things. Maybe he’ll even be in my corner and loosen up a little.
Two hours later, I’m still buried in reports from the past few years, tracking how the numbers shift.
So far, the trends stay consistent—which means the water main station in the woods near the property line is either an old system the ranch once relied on, or the newer one Gage mentioned, installed just one year ago.
One year ago…
“That’s it,” I whisper as I sift through reports from last year to the most recent one. The smaller stack is easier to manage, and halfway through, I spot it—the shift. The system shows a sudden increase, and I’d bet anything it lines up with the water station service Gage mentioned.
That isn’t a coincidence. Water main systems are serviced to regulate usage for livestock and the surrounding ecosystem, not to increase output. There’s no logical reason for this system to be pushing out more water.
I gather the documents into a folder and leave the office. It might not look like much to Gage yet, but if I can talk to the town assessor, I might be able to trace where the discrepancy starts—especially since the county commissioner was absolutely useless.
I head to my car just as Jesse jogs over to open the gate. I wave, and he nods back as I pull onto the road.
The long stretch of dirt gives me time to think. I want clearer proof, something concrete, but without more data, I’m stuck. I don’t know exactly what’s happening—only that it isn’t good, and it certainly isn’t in the ranch’s best interest.
I’ve had theories for a while now.
Ever since my visit to the county commissioner’s office, I’ve suspected something bigger at work. Seeing Horizon Group marked on the map only sharpened that suspicion.
If they’re trying to buy out the town—and I’d bet they are—then they already know Gage would never sell. I can’t prove the commissioner’s involved, but Horizon Group hovering around Bell River and snapping up parcels for nothing isn’t coincidence.
As the town hall comes into view, I slow and park out front. I step inside with purpose, then stop midway to collect myself. I can’t afford another misstep.
The commissioner already seemed annoyed I was there on Hollis Ranch’s behalf. If I rush this and tip my hand, I’ll lose any chance at real answers.
No. I have to play this smart.
I look down at my boots and wipe them clean of the dry mud, taking an extra second with the soles. They won’t pay any mind to the scuffs themselves, surely.
When I step inside, I walk up to the front desk and smile politely. “Good afternoon. I’m a land researcher with Golden Properties, and I was hoping I could speak with the property assessor,” I lie, giving myself the cover I need to get inside.
I keep the lie light and shallow—no forms, no signatures, nothing that sticks.
The woman lights up. “Sure thing. Let me call up to him for you,” she says. I nod and wander slowly, studying the little plaques and old historical photos lining the walls.
It’s strange to think the town was once smaller than this, yet somehow more bustling.
Now it’s quiet—too quiet. I’d bet a couple hundred, maybe a thousand people live here. It isn’t big, and judging by the emptiness, there aren’t many opportunities left.
No wonder it’s barely thriving.
“Can I help you?”
I whip around as a man in a flannel with a dress jacket stands behind me. I smile softly and hold my hand out.
“Hello, my name is Sloane Carter, and I’m with Golden Properties. I’m researching the town, as we’re looking to build in neighboring areas to bring in more opportunities for growth.
I was hoping you’d have a moment for me,” I say, slipping into a script I’ve delivered more times than I can count. I’ve given versions of this corporate speech so often for my real job that the lie barely registers.
Change a few words, and it may as well be the same thing.
He shakes my hand and releases it. He grimaces and sighs. “Unfortunately, another company beat you to it,” he says, settling his hands on his waist.
My face drops. “Is that right?”
He shrugs. “Horizon Group is buying up parcels fast, much to my dismay, but I can’t really fight the county commissioner,” he says. It’s information I already uncovered, but hearing how quickly they’re buying everything up tightens something in my chest.
If they’re really doing all of this, I shudder to think what they’re capable of when they can’t get Hollis Ranch.
Because they’ll never get it.
“Now they’ve bought every single open space?” I ask, and he nods regretfully.
“All the way up to Hollis,” he replies, and my heart drops straight into my stomach.
If I’m right, this is going to be bad.
But will Gage even hear me out?
I thank him for his time and walk out of the town hall with one thought looping over and over—getting back to the ranch so I can talk to Gage about this before it’s too late.
I haven’t seen Gage all day, not since the night we shared, and frankly, I’m anxious and nervous. Every ounce of me is on pins and needles at the thought of seeing his face.
It’s strange, because part of me wants to avoid him entirely, while another part aches just to be near him.
I hate it because he confuses me.
***
When I get back to the ranch, I search for him until I spot him in the distance by the property line. I head down the hill toward him, nerves buzzing under my skin as I brace myself to face him.
Will he still ignore me after everything that happened? Will he treat me even worse? Too many thoughts crowd my head, and none of them are good, because I know he won’t be completely different.
I know he won’t suddenly treat me well or be sweet to me.
When I reach him, I stop and watch as he sets a new wooden post into the fence. I bite my bottom lip, hoping he’ll break the silence first, but he doesn’t.
I know he can feel my presence behind him; he just refuses to let it interrupt his work.
I let out a shaky breath. “Do you need any help?” I ask, and for a moment he pauses—but only for an instant. He doesn’t turn around, his hat tipped low to block the sun from his already tan face as he keeps working.
“Nah.”
He goes right back to it, and I roll my eyes at how determined he is to show absolutely no emotion. The most emotion I’ve ever seen from him was when he was having his way with me.
Not for nothing, I was hoping for something—anything—outside of that, but instead he stays closed off and unreadable.
I sigh and step closer. “Where do you want me to hold?” I ask, and this time he stops, finally glancing at me.
I meet his eyes—steel gray and sharp—and now they haunt me with something deeper than irritation. It shouldn’t be this way.
I shouldn’t be drawn to a man who pretty much hates me, who’s spent most of his time trying to push me out. What kind of woman wants a man like that? He doesn’t even treat me well.
It’d be one thing if he showed kindness or took a moment to explain things, but all he’s done is dismiss me. One small act—keeping me out of the storm, wrapping my hand—and suddenly my judgment wavers.
I’ve never been that woman, so why am I letting some cowboy make me question my own morals?
“I said I got it,” he reminds me, and I roll my eyes.
“I heard you, but I’m here and I’m helping, so where do you want me to hold it?” I say. His jaw tightens before he exhales slowly through his nose.
He pauses, then kneels to level the post with the hole he dug. When he stands, he places his hands over mine, warm and solid. “Grip it tightly.” He lets go immediately, and the absence of his touch feels louder than it should.
He uses the mallet to hammer down the post, and I watch as his biceps tighten with each forceful hit. I lick my lips, biting down as I stare at the pulsing muscle. Ugh. I hate myself for even noticing.
I’ve never been the lustful type. Every guy I’ve ever been interested in has just been a guy—nothing remarkable. They were nice enough, and we had fun, but they were simple.
We’d share interests and want the same things, until one of us wanted more and the other didn’t. Dating was never my strength, but I was fine on my own. I had my job. I had a full life.
I didn’t need to complicate it by letting another person into it.
But now here Gage stands, and I’m questioning who I am as a person, as a woman. When do I accept that this isn’t the man I should even be thinking about?
One lapse of judgment, and suddenly I can’t stop eyeing him like he’s a five-course meal. I never thought he was attractive—except that he very much is.
On the outside, Gage is the kind of man women would fawn over. A cowboy with dark hair and steel-gray eyes that hint at a thousand emotions his mouth refuses to share.
He’s every woman’s dream on paper, but inside, he’s one walking red flag. And I know—deep down—that he’s wrong for me in every way that matters, even as my head screams for more.
None of it matters, though, because even if I wanted anything else from him, Gage can’t stand me. He made that clear, even during the deed, in the way he pushed me to meet him where the anger already lived.
I gave in to his demands only because it felt too good not to.
“Will you ever see me?” I ask out of nowhere. Embarrassment hits hard because I was only thinking it. I never meant to say it aloud, never meant to give him access to my thoughts—especially when he doesn’t seem to care at all.
But he steps away from the newly placed post and looks at me.
His gaze drags over me, slow and deliberate, his breath heavy, his face slick with sweat. He doesn’t say a word—just stands there and shakes his head.
What is he thinking? What goes through this man’s head? This is one of those moments where I wish I could read minds, even though I’m not sure I’d survive knowing what he actually thinks.
The longer he holds my gaze, the more uncomfortable I feel. My confidence drains away, leaving me exposed. I look down, realizing I may never get an answer, and I think that’s what hurts the most.
I blink back tears, because there is no way I’m going to let this man see me cry.
Then he finally speaks.
“I see you,” he says—not gentle, not reassuring. Just honest.
I lift my gaze to meet his.