Chapter 8
Asher
The wind carries the sharp scent of cedar and sun-warmed dust as I lean against the porch railing of the ranch office, flipping through the latest land use documents.
It's just busy work, and I can't seem to focus.
Not with her car pulling up the drive, tires crunching on gravel like a countdown clock.
She's here.
Kassi steps out, shading her eyes from the sun, a folder clutched in one hand like a shield.
Her hair's pulled back today, neat and low, but a few pieces have slipped loose, curling at her jaw.
She walks like someone with something to prove, shoulders back, chin lifted.
I shouldn't notice how good she looks in jeans and a soft blue blouse, but I do.
Nor should I let my eyes linger on the way she moves, but I can't help it.
And I shouldn't still want her.
Pushing off the railing, I meet her halfway, my boots thudding heavily on the wooden planks.
"Afternoon," I say, though it comes out more clipped than I mean it to.
She holds out the folder. "Another offer with some documents and proposed timelines. Martin wanted me to hand-deliver them."
I take the folder, fingers brushing hers for a second. Just a second, but it's enough. Her breath catches. Mine holds. She smells of warm citrus and something softer I can't name, tugging at places I keep guarded.
"He sent you all this way just to drop off paperwork?"
"And to check in," she says, tone professional but tight. "Face to face. He's very big on looking people in the eye, even if he only does it via video."
I nod slowly, tucking the folder under my arm. "Alright then. Let's talk."
She follows me inside, and I can feel the tension thickening with every step.
The office is quiet except for the ticking clock and the distant hum of cattle lowing beyond the window.
I set the folder on the desk, but don't sit.
Neither does she. She closes the door behind her, and instantly the small office smells like her citrus perfume. It's going to linger all day.
"So," I say, turning to face her. "Let's not pretend. I know exactly who you are."
Her eyes narrow. "Do you?"
"You work for the development group, trying to buy this ranch out from under us.
For what? To put up apartments? Condos? To boost Walker Lake's population?
No one here wants that. We live here because we like this small town.
Bring in city folks, and it's not Walker Lake anymore.
It's just another corporate resort town. "
She pauses, and I can see her mind spinning before she speaks.
"That doesn't mean you know me."
I bark out a short laugh, but there's no humor in it.
"You really think I haven't been paying attention?
You were sent here to make it easier to tear all this down.
You show up with soft smiles and fake questions like you care about the community, but you're just scouting the land for the highest bidder.
Your boss did his homework. There is a reason he sent a beautiful single mom to do his dirty work instead of one of his hard-knock male execs. "
She takes a breath, jaw tight. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you think."
There's fire in her voice now, and heat in her eyes. It makes something stir in me. Makes me want to challenge her and pull her closer, all at once.
"You think I wanted this job to turn into some hostile takeover? I didn't. I believed in what I was doing. Until recently."
That catches me off guard. Not the change in her beliefs because Bear knows that, but the fact that she is admitting it to me, Asher, face-to-face.
"So, what changed?"
Her mouth opens, then closes. She looks down. "I don't owe you an explanation."
"You're right," I say, stepping closer. "But don't act like you're innocent. You've been asking questions, poking around where you don't belong. That's not community engagement. That's reconnaissance."
Her eyes narrow, but she doesn't rise to the bait. Not with words. She studies me for a moment, clearly lining something up in her head. I can practically hear the gears turning.
"People get curious when they care," she says carefully. "And sometimes lines blur before you realize you've crossed them."
That's something I once said to her. As Bear. One of the first messages, when we were still dancing around the edges of something neither of us could name.
Her lips part, just slightly. I see the thought land in her eyes. But she doesn't say it. Not yet. She tucks it away like a question she's not ready to ask.
I don't confirm it or deny it. I just let the weight of it hang between us.
She shifts her stance, the tension in her shoulders coiling tighter.
Her gaze lingers on my face, then flickers briefly to my hands, like she's trying to connect something unspoken.
I see her swallow hard, then shake her head slightly, as if trying to dismiss a thought that came too fast, too strong.
The silence stretches, heavy and alive. We're both standing on the edge of something neither of us is ready to say aloud.
The air crackles between us. My hands are clenched at my sides. The line between anger and attraction is razor-thin. I can see her questioning if I'm Bear. While I should let it go and walk away, the part of me that wants her to know wins over.
I say quietly, "You ever get the feeling you're falling for something you shouldn't?"
She freezes. Her eyes search mine, recognition flashing in them.
I've said that to her before.
As Bear.
She takes a step back, blinking. "What did you just say?"
I don't answer.
She stares at me, heart in her throat. I can see the pieces clicking together in her mind. There is no going back, but it is the right thing to put an end to this now. It's already gone too far.
"You," she whispers. "Are you Bear? Or is one of your brothers—?"
"Does it matter?" I ask, but my voice is low now. Worn.
"It matters if you've been lying to me."
"You weren't exactly honest either."
We stand there, locked in the middle of a war neither of us asked for. I don't know if I want to kiss her or tell her to leave and never come back.
"I didn't come here to fight with you," she says after a moment. "And I didn't come to hurt anyone."
"But you are," I say. "Whether you meant to or not."
She swallows hard. "So are you."
That lands, too. Because it's true, I let it go too far. I let myself believe in something sweet in the dark, without thinking what would happen in the light.
Silence stretches. Her eyes flick to my forearms, my tattoos on display. I see the flicker of distraction. Want. My gaze falls to her lips, the way they part slightly as if she's about to speak again, but doesn't.
She reaches for the folder again, probably to leave with it, but I move faster and grab it. Our hands meet again. Her skin is soft, but her grip is steel. The moment holds longer this time. We don't pull away.
"This could've been something," I say, my voice rough.
She looks up at me. "Maybe it still can be. But not like this."
When she turns to leave, she pauses at the door. Her voice drops. "Bear said once that sometimes the best things come when you least expect them."
I inhale sharply. I remember that message. A quiet night. I said it because I meant it.
She studies me as if she already knows the answer. Then walks out the door.
The door clicks softly behind her. Rooted to the spot, I stare at the empty space she left behind. The scent of her still lingers. The air feels both charged and hollow at the same time. I rub a hand down my face, exhaling a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
She's gone. And I'm still standing here, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.
I rub a hand down my face and stare out the window, watching her car reverse down the drive. Gravel crunches beneath her tires, and with every foot she puts between us, the ache in my chest gets sharper.
This shouldn't hurt, but it does—because she’s no longer just the woman doing a job for the developer. She's the woman who laughed with me at midnight, who called me Bear and made it mean something.
Lowering myself slowly into the office chair, the leather creaks under my weight. I stare down at the folder she brought. But I don't open it. I don't think I can. My hands are still shaking.
I thought that confronting her would settle something inside me. Instead, it just stirred everything up more. The look in her eyes when she realized the truth—it wasn't anger. It was betrayal. And damn if that doesn't sit like a stone in my chest.
She's more than her job. I see that now. I think I've always known it, but it's easier to pretend otherwise when you're trying not to fall.
Running both hands through my hair, I lean forward, elbows braced on my knees. What do I do now? Walk away? Keep texting like nothing's changed? Nothing feels like the right answer.
The office door creaks again. I look up as Finn strolls in, a travel mug in one hand and a smirk on his face.
"You look like you either lost a fight or just got dumped," he says.
I don't answer, leaning back in my chair, looking at him.
He raises an eyebrow. "Okay, so not a fight. What's her name?"
I shake my head. "Drop it, Finn."
He grins, sipping from his mug. "You get real moody when you're holding something in. You know that? Like a horse about to buck."
"Not now."
He shrugs. "Alright, alright. But when you're ready to talk, maybe try doing it before you implode. You've got that look again."
"What look?"
"Like you're halfway between punching a wall and writing a damn love letter."
He walks out with a chuckle, leaving me alone again.
And he's not wrong.
I thought calling her out would make me feel better. Like I was protecting the ranch. Protecting my family. But it doesn't feel like a win. It feels as if I took a sledgehammer to something delicate we built together, even if it was in the dark.
I don't know what happens next. Should I confess everything or bury it deeper? Should I walk away or fight for something I'm not sure I ever had?
All I know is she looked at me as if I was worth believing in. And maybe I still want to be.