FOURTEEN.
Tobias
——————————
Robby Burke.
I wake from a dream I wish I could erase the instant my eyes open.
Ever is pinned hard against the wall, legs wrapped tight around my waist, arms locked around my neck, pulling me in until every curve of her body presses perfectly against mine.
Her head tips back, throat exposed, and she moans my name as I drag my teeth down the side of her neck.
The sound echoes in my skull even now, real enough to make my pulse kick. I shouldn’t crave her this badly. Shouldn’t let her invade every quiet corner of my thoughts like this. But she’s there anyway, and my brain refuses to give me anything else.
It’s too early, the sky still dark at the edges, far too soon to head to the ranch and burn off this restless heat. But staying in bed is impossible. If I lie here any longer my mind will keep replaying the same heated scenes until I’m hard and frustrated and hating myself for it.
I push out of bed, pull on jeans and a worn flannel, and pace the house. I flick the T.V. on, scroll through channels without really seeing them, then turn the set off and back on again just for the noise.
I drop onto the couch, pull out my phone, and scroll through emails on autopilot—feed orders, invoices, a couple of vet appointments I confirm for next month. Anything routine, anything safe, to keep my hands busy and my thoughts from drifting back to her.
My eyes keep dragging to the clock on the wall. Five a.m.. Close enough to morning that I can justify leaving without looking desperate.
Then a sharp crack splits the quiet. My body jerks upright before my brain fully registers it. There’s only one sound that carries like that out here.
A shotgun.
I’m already moving—boots yanked on, keys snatched from the hook, door banging open behind me as I launch onto the porch.
My gaze cuts straight across the fields toward Ever’s place.
No second shot follows. No scream rises.
No smoke curls into the sky to signal fire or worse. But dread sinks into my gut anyway.
I don’t wait to think. I’m in the truck, engine roaring, tires spitting gravel as I tear down the road.
Her front gate stands wide open when I reach it and the sight sends another jolt through me.
I don’t slow. The truck fishtails onto the long driveway.
I skid to a stop in front of the house and jump out before the engine dies, leaving the door hanging open.
Ever stands at the edge of the porch, shotgun still in her hands, barrel pointed toward the ground.
Her whole body is rigid, every muscle drawn tight.
I follow the direction of her stare just in time to catch the black SUV cutting through the field past the barn, moving fast toward the main road.
It doesn’t hesitate. It finds the pavement and disappears.
I approach her slowly, boots quiet on the weathered boards, until I’m close enough to hear the ragged edge of her breathing. Her eyes are distant, glazed, like she’s still watching the scene replay inside her head, processing every detail while the rest of her stays frozen.
“I’m gonna take this, alright?” I say, nodding toward the shotgun. She lifts it without looking at me.
I close my hand around the stock, and ease it from her grip.
I step to the side, crack the action open, confirm there’s still one round chambered, then lean the weapon carefully against the doorframe.
When I return to her side she hasn’t moved.
Her gaze is still locked on the empty stretch of road where the SUV vanished.
“Did you recognize that car?” Her voice is low, cautious, almost too controlled.
I rub the side of my jaw, buying a second to figure out how to say it. “I did… unfortunately.” Her head snaps toward me. Her eyes are wild and furious, pinning me in place. “His name is Robby Burke.”
“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” she snaps. She spins away, paces to the far end of the porch, hands shoved into her hair as she drags in deep, shaky breaths.
I watch her carefully, every instinct screaming to close the distance, to pull her against me until the shaking stops.
But I stay put. I’ve been trying to keep him away from her—it’s why I led her to her truck the day I saw her at the farmers market.
I knew the second I saw him there I couldn’t risk it.
Robby Burke doesn’t just want things. He takes them.
And when he decides something belongs to him—land, money, a woman—he doesn’t stop until it’s his.
She turns back to me, fury still blazing in her expression. “That was Robby Burke?”
“Coulda been anyone, but it was one of his cars.”
She presses the heels of her hands hard into her eyes like she can push the reality away. After a long moment she drops them, stares at the porch boards, then shakes her head slowly.
“He’s trying to buy the ranch,” she says. The words come out flat, matter-of-fact.
My hands curl into fists at my sides before I can stop them.
I work to keep my face neutral, to swallow the surge of rage that wants to come out of me.
This is exactly what I’ve been dreading since the day she rolled up here.
I’ve been quietly bracing for it, hoping he’d lose interest after time.
But he hasn’t. He’s here. And now she knows his name.
“Did he offer anything?”
“Many times.” She exhales sharply through her nose, exasperation threading through her voice—the same weary, defeated sound I heard too many times when Linda would vent to me about Robby and old Mr. Jenkins.
“And?” I press carefully. “Is it an offer you’re going to take?”
She shoots me an annoyed look. “I’m still standing here with the ranch in my name, aren’t I?” The words snap out sharper than before. She shakes her head, turns on her heel, then paces back to the far end of the porch so her back is to me.
I shake the tension out of my arms and step to the edge of the porch.
My gaze sweeps over the land I’ve known half my life now.
I know there’s money in this land, it’s only been raising through the years.
Which means it’s only a matter of time before the offers climb higher, until the numbers get too tempting to ignore.
I wonder how high they’ll get before she finally caves and leaves this place.
I close my eyes for a second, chin dipped, and force a long, slow breath. I need to pull myself together. Falling apart in front of her won’t help anyone. She’s the one who just fired a shotgun at an intruder on her property. She needs steady, not another person unraveling.
I lift my head, square my shoulders, and walk straight to her. I hop off the side of the porch, turn to face her, then hold out my hand.
She looks down at me, curiosity flickering through the storm still brewing in her eyes, then glances at my open palm.
“What?” she asks, voice low, but there’s the smallest spark of amusement there too.
“Come on.”
“Come on where?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Walk with me.”
She arches an eyebrow, studying me like she’s weighing whether I’ve lost my mind. I keep my hand out, steady, knowing her well enough by now to bet she’ll cave. We’re both running on thin restraint these days.
She reaches down and takes my hand. Her fingers are cool and a little shaky, but they close around mine with quiet trust. I help her step off the porch, and we start down the gentle grass slope toward the fields.
Neither of us speaks. The only sounds are our boots brushing through the dew-wet grass and the distant lowing of cattle waking up with the day.
The sun is just above the horizon when we reach the cow pasture, farther than I expected us to go, but I would have kept walking with her all morning if that’s what it took. I figured I’d follow wherever she needed to go until the tension bled out of her shoulders and the sharp edge of fear dulled.
She leans against the rough wood fence and crosses her ankles behind her.
I mirror her stance with my elbows over the top rail, and we watch the cows graze slow and lazy in the new light.
It’s probably close to six-thirty now. If I started my work now I could get a good head start on the day, but nothing feels more important than standing here beside her.
“Can you tell me what happened?” I ask gently, breaking the silence.
She pulls in a deep breath and lets it out slow, shoulders dropping in defeat.
“I heard a car pull up around four. It was early enough that I questioned why it might be you—but figured maybe you came to check on things. It was too dark to make out the shape of the car, but I could tell it was big. I thought maybe it was your truck.” She pauses, gaze fixed on the distant tree line.
“Then the sky started to lighten and I saw it wasn’t you.
I didn’t know what to do. I knew you were probably still asleep, so I just…
grabbed the shotgun and let off a round. Hoped it would scare them off.”
Her voice stays even, smooth, never cracking, but when she stops a ragged breath slips out, betraying her. I know she’s trying to hold herself together, trying not to let the fear show in front of me.
“You did the right thing,” I tell her quietly.
Her shoulders sag further. “I don’t know what I would have done if they’d actually tried to do something,” she admits, and now the fear finally cuts through, raw in her voice. “What if they’d hurt the animals? Or taken something? What the hell do I even do in that situation?”
“Lock the doors and call me,” I say firmly. “Don’t hesitate. Not for a second.”
She lets out a long, tired huff. “That sounds so simple in theory.”