6. Olivia
OLIVIA
Rows of worn wooden chairs stretch out in the meeting hall.
I walk in and feel eyes on me, sizing me up like the cattle to be auctioned later.
A chalkboard stands front and center, scrawled with times, numbers, and promises of things to come.
Ace leans against the wall in the far corner, his Stetson dipping as he looks down at his boots.
I pretend not to notice and find a seat near the back, gripping my notepad like a lifeline.
“Welcome, everyone,” the elderly man begins. He doesn’t have to shout. “We’ll get started shortly. Please make sure you have the schedule and the auction terms in hand so we can field any questions before we leave.”
He lays out the ground rules like commandments. “Open auction, all bids public. Fair chance for everyone. You know the drill.” He’s telling me I’ve got the same shot as anyone. Telling me to prove it.
My grip tightens on the notepad. It’s all scribbles and crossed-out plans now, the raw sketch of something no one else sees yet.
My stomach twists, a knot of excitement and dread.
There’s too much at stake, too much to win or lose.
My eyes steal another glance toward Ace.
His face is unreadable. It’s maddening, the way he seems so sure, so unfazed.
It’s gotten harder lately to keep my eyes off of him, but we have an agreement. No one can find out about us. It’s the one rule we have had since high school. In public, we hate each other, but even sometimes he breaks it with his lingering glances.
The man gestures to the board, each swipe of his hand drawing us closer to what really matters. “Livestock lots posted,” he says, voice cutting through the murmurs. “Catalogs available for review.” Every word echoes the chance I’m here for. The risk. The opportunity. A slow burn starts in my chest.
I look back down, pretend to study the agenda like I don’t already know it by heart. The chatter rises. Everything hinges on these next few days. And him. Always him. Leaning there like he has nothing to prove. I focus harder, shut out everything but the facts on the page.
You’re ready for this.
More shuffling. More whispers. The crowd is restless. Eyes flit across the room, measuring each other. This is my game to play, and I didn’t come to lose.
“Remember,” he adds, just before the room erupts into the buzz of post-announcement jitters, “the auction starts at eight sharp.”
Eight sharp. My gaze snaps back to the corner where Ace stands. He meets my eyes, but looks away, and then a slow tilt of his head. I gather my papers and push through the double doors.
Serena stops me right outside the door. “Well?”
The papers tremble in my hands, a small betrayal. I don’t answer right away. Her touch on my shoulder is reassurance and expectation. She’s patient, even when she’s curious. I give a little shrug.
“That bad, huh?” Her laugh is an easy release, cutting through the air.
“Not bad,” I say, but it’s not convincing. The papers crumple in my grip. “Just a lot to take in.”
Serena is always pushing me to do what she knows I can. What I’m not sure I can.
“Your vision is good. Did you see him?”
I don’t need to ask who she means. “Yeah, he was here.”
“I still can’t believe you guys are going to be battling it out. It’s got to make the sex that much hotter.”
I smack her shoulder. “Shut up. Someone could hear you. Nothing is worse than small town gossip.”
“Oh, whatever. How do you feel about him wanting the ranch? Isn’t it upsetting? That he might own your family’s ranch? His last name will be on that sign.”
I try not to think about it. Ace isn’t a bad guy, his father is. But she’s right. Honestly, I’m surprised his father isn’t coming after the ranch as a way to stick it to my father one last time.
“Every rancher in Texas is coming to this auction. Our property has been maintained for generations. Ace has every right to want a place to call his own especially after the shitty things his father has said.”
“Wait, you guys talk? I figured you just met up and screwed like rabid animals.”
“God, you’re feral.”
Selena can sometimes be a bit much, but she has no filter. Says whatever is on her mind, no matter what others think.
“You know what you want, Liv,” Serena says, as if she’s saying goodbye and good luck at the same time.
“I do.”
She smacks my shoulder and smiles. “Then go fucking get it. Don’t let anyone stop you. Not even him.”