Chapter 15
Kassi
The gravel crunches beneath my shoes as I step out of my car, anger already tight in my chest. I didn't want to drive all the way out here tonight or to face him again after everything.
But my boss's words are still ringing in my ears, and my nerves are so frayed I can barely think straight.
"Find leverage," he'd said, as if I were some hired spy instead of a woman trying to make a living.
Asher is by the fence line when I spot him under the fading light, his broad shoulders and hat pulled low.
He looks like the earth itself carved him and then forgot to smooth the edges.
Steady. Rough. Unmoving. And it infuriates me because I know the second he sees me, he'll fold those arms across his chest, narrow his eyes, and treat me like I'm the enemy.
Squaring my shoulders, I march toward him, dust kicking up behind me. He hears me coming and turns, and there it is. That look. Like I just showed up to ruin his peace.
"What are you doing here, Kassi?" His voice is rougher than gravel, low enough that it sinks into my stomach before I can steel myself against it.
I lift my chin. "We need to talk."
"About what? Another offer? Another way to slice this land up for those people you work for?" His jaw flexes. "Because if that's all you've got, you can turn right back around."
Heat floods my cheeks. "I'm not here for them."
"No?" He leans against the fence post, arms crossed, just like I knew he would. "Then what, exactly? Because every time I see you, you're waving some paper at me or fishing for information you've got no business asking."
My pulse hammers in my throat. "I'm trying to do my job. Trying to build something better for this town. You think I like being put in this position?"
"Better?" His laugh is humorless. "You call tearing up land better? Or chasing families off their ranches progress? You don't know the first damn thing about this place if you think concrete and strip malls are going to save it."
I flinch but stand my ground. "You think staying stuck in the past is going to save it? Do you even hear yourself? Walker Lake is dying. Businesses are closing. Families are leaving. Maybe a little progress is what it needs."
He pushes off the fence and takes a slow, heavy step toward me. I feel the weight of him before he even closes the space. "And you think your bosses give a damn about Walker Lake? They see dollar signs, and that's it. You're just the pretty face they send in to make it easier to swallow."
The words sting more than I want them to. Partly because I've had that thought myself. But then I think, pretty face? Like that's all I am. All the nights I've stayed up juggling bills and wondering how I'll make it through, it doesn't matter because I happen to smile in the right places.
"At least I'm trying to help," I snap. "You sit up here on your high horse acting as if you're the only one who cares about this land, but all you're really doing is hiding. You're too stubborn and too scared of change to admit the world doesn't stop spinning just because you want it to."
His eyes flash, and his voice cuts sharper. "You think you know me? You don't know a damn thing about me or this land. Waltzing in here with your big-city plans doesn’t mean you've got it all figured out."
The words boil in my throat before I can stop them.
"Maybe your brothers are moving forward while you're the one stuck in the past. Zach's making friends and picking up a few new skills, Finn's chasing his rodeos.
At least they're out there living. You? You're too busy chaining yourself to the fence line, waiting for the world to pass you by. "
His jaw tightens. "Don't you dare drag my family into this."
"Why not?" I shoot back. "You use them like a shield every chance you get. If you shout loud enough about tradition, no one will notice that you're just afraid. Afraid to risk anything. Afraid to let anyone close."
The hurt that flickers across his face guts me, but I don't take the words back.
I can't. He doesn't know what it feels like to stand alone, to hold everything together with nothing but stubbornness and love for a little girl who didn't ask for any of this.
He doesn't know how much it costs me every single day.
His eyes flash, storm-dark and unyielding. "And you're too blind to see you're being used. Their spy, Kassi. All the smiles, the flirting—you think I don't see it for what it is? Digging for leverage. That's all you've ever been doing."
My hands tremble at my sides, but I ball them into fists. "Don't you dare," I whisper, fury lacing every syllable. "Don't you dare reduce me to that. I'm a mother trying to make a living. I don't have the luxury of family help to take care of me."
For a second, I think I see something soften in his expression, but it's gone as quickly as it came. He takes another step closer until the heat of him steals the air from my lungs.
"You think this land is just dirt and fences?
" he growls. "This land is blood. It's sweat.
It's every calloused hand that's kept it alive.
Generations before Willy, my brothers, and me.
We bleed for it. And you want me to hand it over like it's nothing.
Like it's some bargaining chip in a game you don't even understand. "
My throat tightens, but I force the words out anyway. "And what about me? What about my daughter? Do you think I don't bleed for her every single day? That I don't know what it means to fight for something bigger than myself? I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t.”
We're close enough now that the tension between us feels like a live wire, sparking hot and sharp. I can see the rise and fall of his chest, the way his jaw works as he tries to rein himself in. My own heart feels like it's trying to beat its way out of my ribs.
"God, you make me crazy," I spit out, breathless.
"Good," he fires back, voice rough. "Because you sure as hell make me crazy too."
He's so close now that I can see a bead of sweat run down his temple, catching the last of the daylight.
My breath hitches. His anger radiates off him, but underneath it, there's something else, something that coils low in my stomach.
I try to back up, but he follows, every step forward closing me in until my back nearly hits the fence.
My chest rises and falls too fast, and all I can think is how unfair it is that someone who makes me this furious can also make me want to drown in him.
And before I can stop myself, before I can think about what a mistake it is, my mouth is on his.
His lips are hot against mine, rough and demanding.
For a split second, he freezes, like he can't believe what's happening, and then his hands are in my hair, pulling me closer.
I taste cola and mint on his tongue, feel the scrape of his stubble against my skin, and it makes my knees go weak.
My fingers dig into his shoulders, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt.
I'm drowning in the taste of him, in the way his callused thumb traces my jaw, treating me as something precious he's afraid to break.
The kiss deepens, and I lose myself completely, forgetting why I came here, forgetting the papers folded in my back pocket, forgetting everything except the way his body feels pressed against mine.
It's wrong. God, it's wrong. He's the enemy. He's the line I shouldn't cross. And yet I can't stop.
When we finally break apart, both of us breathing hard, and the world feels tilted. His forehead rests against mine for a heartbeat, his breath hot against my skin.
"That," he says, voice ragged, "was a mistake."
I swallow hard, my lips still tingling. "You think I don't know that?"
His thumb brushes my jaw before he pulls back, eyes searching mine with something I can't name. "It didn't mean anything."
I force a laugh that sounds brittle even to me. "Of course not."
But my hands are shaking. I try to settle them hoping he doesn't notice, but I know he does. His gaze drops to where my fists tremble against my hips, and something flickers in his eyes that scares me more than his anger ever could.
I take a step back, then another, until there's space between us again. Space I desperately need if I'm going to breathe.
"I should go," I manage, voice barely steady.
He doesn't stop me. Doesn't say a word as I turn and walk back to my car, each step heavier than the last. I slide into the driver's seat, hands gripping the wheel, heart pounding so hard I think it might bruise my ribs.
The drive back into town is a blur. My mind replays every second of that kiss, every word we threw like knives, every flicker of heat that should never have been there. My lips still burn with the memory of him, and no matter how hard I tell myself it was nothing, my body knows better.
At a red light, I lift my fingers to my mouth, brushing lightly over them as if I could erase the feel of him if I tried hard enough. But all it does is make the memory sharper, deeper.
I whisper into the quiet of my car, a confession meant for no one but me. "It meant nothing."
But my voice shakes. My hands shake. And the truth settles like a stone in my chest.
It meant everything.