14. Ace
ACE
I’m still here, pretending I’ve got a fighting chance. I set my jaw, press the bid button one last time, then make sure she sees me drop my paddle, watch as it spins on the table before standing up.
Everyone in this room, squeezed into their best boots and flannel for the event, knows the real contest is between the Bougie Cowgirl and me.
My chest is tight with what I thought was ambition, but it’s something else now.
I watch Olivia, fierce and composed in her designer boots, her tailored blazer, her devastating perfection, and realize I’m losing more than an auction.
I look at Olivia, really look at her, seeing the hopeful determination etched in the lines of her face, the fierce passion that makes her who she is. The realization dawns that winning the Ranch might win me years of pride, but it will come at the expense of losing something—someone—irreplaceable.
There was a time I convinced myself I didn’t need her.
Told myself we were rivals, adversaries, competitors in land, business, life.
Told myself I’d bid on that ranch, put in a show of stubborn resistance, watch her surprise when she won.
Told myself I’d walk away. That was before the late nights at the diner, and her easy laugh over steaming cups of coffee.
Each memory feels like a fresh brand, and I can’t tell what burns more—wanting her or wanting her to want me.
It is love—pure, unbidden, and undeniable—that spurs me into action. “I’m out.”
The room stills, a collective intake of breath marking the moment. Olivia’s eyes widen, a myriad of emotions flickering within them—confusion, disbelief, and the dawning realization of what his surrender meant.
“Wh-What?”
“The Ranch… it should be yours.”
Shock paints Olivia’s face, her lips part in stunned silence. She searches my eyes, looking for the competitive glint that has always driven me.
“Are you serious?”
“More than I’ve ever been about anything.”
The gavel falls and the auctioneer announces the end of the bidding war. I choose her.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her words imbued with wonder and a burgeoning trust.
“I can’t believe this is happening.”
My phone buzzes. My father, probably, wondering if his son will manage to impress him this time.
But this time isn’t like the others. I won’t be the winner or the favorite or anything I thought I wanted to be.
The ranch I grew up on, the legacy I tried to outrun—it’s his.
Everything I thought I needed is a thousand acres away, and everything I need is sitting right here, fifteen feet from me, close enough to touch, close enough to lose.
I’m in the hallway, looking back through the glass as they shake Olivia’s hand, as they announce her victory.
Everyone is too busy swarming her to notice me slipping away, everyone but her.
I see her scanning the room, looking for something, looking for me.
I don’t wait to find out if she cares enough to follow.
I’m halfway to my truck when she catches up. I thought I’d made it far enough that she’d let me go. Thought I was a big enough fool to let her. I don’t turn around when she calls my name, just lean against the tailgate and look at the sky like it might have something to say. It doesn’t.
“Not sticking around for the champagne toast?”
I let her question hang in the air like a breath on a cold night, then finally turn to face her. “Thought you’d be too busy celebrating.”
The auction house stands behind her.
“What if I’d rather be here?” she says, stopping a few feet short of me. She’s close enough that I can smell the soft scent of leather and something sweet, close enough that I know I’ll never be far away again.
“You could’ve fooled me.”
She crosses her arms, tips her head like she does when she’s figuring out a difficult business deal, like I’m the only thing she wants to get to the bottom of.
“I’m done,” I say, a little louder, gesturing back toward the auction house.
Her expression shifts, surprise slipping into understanding, understanding into something I can’t quite name. I can’t look at her and keep my distance at the same time, so I turn away again.
“We’re not through yet,” Olivia says, and I feel her taking a step closer.
Her presence is a heat I can’t ignore, melting away my defenses.
She’s right there, more solid than any ranch or land or promise of inheritance.
She’s a future I can almost touch. I thought I’d walk away, let her keep everything. I thought wrong.
“I’m not good at letting go,” she says, reaching out like she might touch my arm. The space between us disappears one heartbeat at a time, slow and measured and unstoppable. “And I don’t think you are, either.”
Her fingers graze my skin, and it’s like I’ve been lassoed. There’s no use trying to break free. I turn to face her, feeling all the stubbornness draining away, leaving only what matters, what’s always mattered.
“Olivia, I’m tired of running. From this. From you.” My voice sounds raw, but it’s the truth, finally.
The look she gives me is everything—relief and surprise and want, so much want—and I don’t give her a chance to say anything else before I pull her close, before I stop pretending to be strong and just kiss her, deep and slow, like this is the first and last thing I’ll ever do.
The world fades. The parking lot. The auction. The weight of my own expectations. All of it dissolves, and there’s just us. Her lips, soft and insistent against mine. Her hands, finding their place on my back. Her heart, beating in time with this new, dangerous rhythm.
“We’ll take it slow,” Olivia says, a smile in her voice. “Reckon that’ll be hard for you.”
“I’m up for the challenge.”
I’ll never walk away, not once I’ve finally found my person. It just took me this long to finally realize that I’m hurting myself by keeping her at arms length when it’s always been her.