Chapter 15
fifteen
Trouble
The last place I expect to find her is in this worn-down barn.
The old wooden door groans under my grip as I step inside. The floor shifts beneath my boots, warped and uneven. She’s easy to miss at first—tucked into the shadows, knees hugged to her chest like she’s trying to disappear.
And for a second, I wish I hadn’t seen her.
Because the girl I’ve spent the past few days sparring with, rolling my eyes at, calling every name in the book under my breath… has tears on her cheeks. Real ones. Not the fake kind you expect when someone’s trying to get their way. These are raw, silent, gut-wrenching tears.
Something shifts. Uninvited.
I freeze, one hand still on the door. My instinct says turn around, let her have her moment. But something deeper—the part of me I usually silence—tells me to stay. Seein’ her like this… it takes me back to finding Mama just like this growing up. All that anger, all that hurt—it comes rushing back.
She looks up then. Eyes wide and vulnerable. Like a coyote caught in a trap. And damn if that doesn’t punch a hole straight through my cold heart.
She clears her throat, trying to deflect before she turns away, a wisp of blonde hair falling across her face as she tries to hide. But she can't hide the moisture glistening in her eyes, can't cover up the tremor in her words. "What are you doing here?"
She swipes at her cheeks with the back of her hand.
The sight of those usually fierce eyes, now shimmering with unshed tears, does something strange to my chest—a twinge, a pull, something unfamiliar.
There's a part of me that wants to step forward, to cross the space that separates us, but I hesitate.
"Knox said y'all had an extra fence stretcher in here."
She straightens, shoulders squared like she’s ready for a fight—even if her eyes are still glassy.
“What, you don’t have one of those on that fancy ranch of yours?" That familiar sarcasm slips out, softer than usual though.
The corner of my mouth twitches, threatening to break into a smile, but I hold it back. I lean against a wooden beam, arms crossed, because this place? It’s her territory. Her family ranch, and I'm an intruder in more ways than one.
"Seems stuff's been going missing around our ranch lately," I confess. "Fence stretchers, tools... can’t seem to find ‘em."
Sawyer tosses back her blonde hair, strands catching the light in a way that lights her up entirely. A glimmer of amusement dances in her stormy blue eyes. "Sounds mighty irresponsible of you."
"Maybe so," I say, with a half-cocked grin as I roll a toothpick between my teeth. There’s a thrill crawling down my spine—her smart mouth’s got bite, and I like it way more than I should.
She just called me irresponsible, and hell, maybe I am, but I’m too busy enjoying the view to mention the Kennedys stole the damn tools.
“Well, I’m sure whatever you’re lookin’ for is back there,” she says, pointing to a shadowed corner off to my left.
I spot it immediately—but I don’t move. Not yet. I glance back at her instead, soaking in the rare vulnerability she’s showing.
"You know, I'm not exactly a fan of you," I drawl, my voice low, teasing. "But you gonna tell me who put those tears in your pretty eyes?"
Her chin lifts defiantly, and when she speaks, her voice is steel. "You're the last person I'd want to tell, actually." Her words are a challenge, a door shut tight and deadbolted, but they hang there, tempting me to pry it open.
And hell if I’m not already reaching for the handle.
“And why’s that?” I ask, slow and easy just like my lazy grin. “You might not be my biggest fan either, but there’s one thing you oughta know about me…”
I don’t miss the slight narrowing of those powder-blue eyes. But curiosity is there too.
"And what's that?"
"If there's one thing in this whole damn world I can't stand, it's to see a woman cry. Even you. So go ahead, tell me who did it."
"I wasn't crying," she lies.
"Darlin'," I say, the word rolling off my tongue, "you're gonna look me in my face and tell a boldfaced lie like that? I heard you out here howling worse than my horse Dodge sounds giving birth."
She glares at me, but I can see the corner of her mouth twitching, fighting a losing battle against a smile. It's a small victory, but I'll take it.
"Of course you would have a female horse named Dodge. And what are you gonna do if I tell you?"
"Guess you'll just have to trust me and find out"
“I know you won’t hurt the man who did it,” she says, looking away now, not as confident as she just was.
"You should know by now I'm not scared to get blood on my hands, especially if that'll stop all that cryin’ mess."
She sniffs and lifts her gaze to meet mine. "My daddy," she finally whispers.
"Your daddy?" I ask, and fuck me sideways riding a bull because she’s right. I wouldn’t put my hands on that grumpy old man if she paid me.
“He’s stubborn as hell,” she breathes out, throwing her hands up. “Have you seen this place? I’m surprised the barn is still standing. He can’t take care of the land anymore. He’s getting too old to manage it on his own.”
She shakes her head, words spilling faster now.
“And Knox tries to help when he can, but he can’t shoulder it either.
My daddy holds a grudge against me for leaving, and boy, is he punishing me for it.
But I want what’s best for him. I’m going to convince him to sell this place.
I’ll take care of the sale, take care of him, then get the hell out of here. ”
The silence turns heavy. She knows she let too much slip, and worse, she let it slip to me.
It’s written all over her face, she’s already kicking herself for looking weak in front of the last man she’d want to.
And in that moment, I realize that whether she likes it or not, we have more in common than she thinks—we're both tied to the land from our ancestors, by the blood and sweat that's been poured into it. I have a feeling this land means more to her than she’s willing to let on.
I hate that I want to fix it for her. For Knox.
For all of ‘em. Pride’s a mean bastard—it can choke the sense clean oughta a man, even good men like her daddy and Knox.
But damn, why hasn’t Knox said anything?
Because hell, I'd walk through fire for him and his family—and here I am, clueless about how bad things have gotten around these parts.
“Sounds like a lot,” I finally say, glancing toward the weathered beams holding this place together.
“I can’t help you with your old man. But there’s one thing I do know…
a man lives and dies on his ranch. Ain’t no convincing him otherwise.
It’s just the way it is. Though… I’ll be honest. I was kinda hoping you’d say it was that ex of yours who made you cry. At least then I could’ve handled it.”
That earns me the tiniest huff of a laugh. “Harrison? No. He thinks everything can be solved with a three-hundred-dollar steak and a glass of wine in some private dining room he rented.”
I rub my jaw. “Don’t tell me those are the dates he took you on.”
“What’s wrong with a date like that?” she challenges, a spark finally lighting back in her eyes.
“Nothing,” I shrug, letting my grin spread slow. “Except it sounds boring as hell. Predictable, too. Any guy can flash a card and order you a steak. But that’s not what sticks. What you remember is a man who makes you smile so hard you forget whatever kinda day you had—stress, bullshit, all of it.”
Her laugh slips out before she can stop it, soft and surprised. “And what do you know about taking a woman on a date? I thought the Stetsons don’t date.”
“Oh, we date,” I say, leaning in just enough. “We just don’t fall in love. It’s a Stetson rule.”
She arches a brow, lips twitching. “Well, if you ask me, that sounds boring and predictable.”
I chuckle, tipping my hat back. “Maybe so. But how about you wipe those tears and come with me.”
Suspicion flickers across her face, but it’s softened by the curiosity I was counting on. “Where are you takin’ me?”
I flash her the kind of grin that’s gotten me out of more trouble than it should as I reach for her hand. “Gonna show you what it’s like to go on a real date. How us cowboys do it… get your mind off all this cryin’. Try your best not to fall for me, sweetheart.”