Chapter 11
WREN
Okay, so this isn’t going as well as I’d hoped.
Turns out asking someone to marry you isn’t as easy as they make it look in the movies.
I hold up my hands, palms out. “I know how crazy it sounds. Just—just let me explain.”
Sawyer’s still staring at me like he’s trying to figure out if I’m having a seizure. He hasn’t moved an inch since the words left my mouth—arms crossed tight over his chest, jaw locked, eyes fixed on me like if he blinks, I’ll disappear.
Or maybe he’s hoping I will.
“Can you breathe, please?” I say, because the silence is starting to make my skin itch. “You’re freaking me out.”
He blinks once, slow. “ I’m freaking you out? You just proposed to me.”
Fair point.
I drag in a breath, forcing my hands to stay steady in my lap. “Okay, look. This isn’t…it’s not like that. I’m not asking you to actually marry me.” I pause. “Well. I am. But not for, like…normal reasons.”
The muscle in his jaw ticks.
I grip the thermos tighter, willing the words to come out in a way that makes even a fraction of sense.
“If we get married,” I say carefully, “it would legally tie our properties together. We’d be considered one household under the county bylaws—one entity—and that means we’d have guaranteed, protected access to the aquifer.
They couldn’t revoke our water rights without opening up a whole different legal mess. ”
I watch him absorb that. No reaction yet. Still stone.
“And it wouldn’t just help my family,” I add, pushing through the lump rising in my throat.
“It would help yours, too. If the county sees you expanding, building a family here—it strengthens the Harts’ hold on your land.
Shows growth. Stability. The thing that makes inspectors and committees and greedy developers back off. ”
Still nothing. Not a blink. Not a twitch. I’m about two seconds away from throwing up on his perfectly polished floors.
“It doesn’t have to change anything,” I say, quieter now. “We keep living our lives. You run your clinic. I run my training program. No expectations, no actual relationship—just a piece of paper that buys both of us a little more time.”
The silence stretches out between us, tight and frayed at the edges. The only sound is the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall behind him.
I tuck my hands between my knees so he doesn’t see them shake.
“I wouldn’t ask,” I say, and my voice catches for half a second, “if there were any other way.”
He finally moves—rubbing a hand over the scruff along his jaw, dragging his palm slowly over the curve of it—and somehow that just makes him hotter.
If that’s even possible. Which, apparently, it is, because the universe hates me.
He drags the same hand over his face, covering his eyes for a second like he can’t even look at me, and lets out a long breath.
Oh God. This was a terrible idea.
Horrible. Catastrophic.
I’ve said a lot of insane things out loud in my life, but this one might just take the damn cake. I shoot up from the stool so fast the legs screech against the floor.
“Never mind,” I blurt, already moving toward the door. “This was stupid. I’m gonna go now.”
It’s only when I’m halfway across the kitchen that I remember he’s the one who drove me here.
But whatever. The round pen isn’t that far. I can walk it. Freeze to death a little. No big deal.
I’m just about to pass the island when I feel it—his fingers wrapping around my wrist, firm but not rough, stopping me in place like he barely even had to try.
It happens so fast that Hank lifts his head from where he’s curled up by the couch, his ears perked up.
I whirl around, my heart in my throat. Sawyer’s staring at me, still holding my wrist like he’s afraid if he lets go, I’ll bolt straight into the damn woods. Which, at this point, I would.
It’s the second time he’s touched me today. Both times to pull me back. To make me stay.
And the strangest part is…I don’t hate it.
Normally, I hate people touching me. Too close, too loud, too much.
But with him, it’s different. It doesn’t feel like a demand. It feels like a question. As if he’s giving me the option to stay, not dragging me back against my will.
His hand is warm and steady against my skin, and even though every survival instinct I have is screaming at me to run, something quieter underneath tells me to wait.
Sawyer’s thumb brushes once over my wrist before he finally lets go, stepping back like he’s giving me the space to decide.
He clears his throat. “Can I talk now?”
I let out a disbelieving breath, a small, startled laugh slipping out with it. “Yeah,” I say, smiling before I can stop myself. “You can talk.”
He leans back against the counter, his arms folding across his chest. The muscles in his forearms flex with the movement, and the kitchen lights catch in his hair, making it look a little blonder than usual. His chest and shoulders look carved out of stone.
“I’m not…necessarily saying no. I understand why you’re asking, and I think if I was in your position I wouldn’t be above doing the same for my family,” he says.
I blink. “Okay…?”
“I just don’t think you’ve really thought this all the way through, Wren.”
My brows knit together. “How so?”
He exhales slowly, like he’s choosing his words carefully, and somehow that’s worse than if he just blurted something out.
“Because if we do this,” he says, voice even, “we’re gonna have to make it seem real.”
Real? The word rattles around my head, knocking into every sharp edge it can find.
Real.
“What do you mean? How real?” I ask, and my voice sounds thinner than I want it to.
His mouth pulls into something that’s not quite a smile. “Very real.”
He pushes off the counter. “You know Summit Springs. Hell, you know my dad,” he says.
“The county already watches him like a damn hawk because of who he is and the shit he’s done around this town.
And if they get even the slightest sense that this is anything less than legitimate?
That we’re doing it for the wrong reasons?
” He shakes his head once. “They’ll be up our asses so fast we won’t even see it coming. ”
I swallow, but he’s not done.
“Which means,” he says, meeting my eyes without blinking, “we’re going to have to…live together. Make it seem real .”
For a second, the words don’t compute. They just sit there, heavy. Maybe if I blink fast enough they’ll rearrange themselves into something less terrifying.
Live together? Live together.
Live with Sawyer Hart.
My heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s echoing in my ribs.
“I—” I start to protest, but he cuts me off with a shake of his head.
“If we get married and keep living separate lives in separate houses, it’s going to look suspicious,” he says. “This town’s too damn nosy, and it’s way too small. Someone will talk. Someone will notice. And word travels fast around here.”
Deep inside, I know he’s right, even if I don’t want him to be. Summit Springs is too small for anything to slip by unnoticed. Half the town’s been watching me and Sawyer Hart grow up since we were in grade school. And both of our families? They carry too much weight around here.
I rub the heel of my hand over my forehead, trying to think.
“I’ve never lived with someone before,” I say, mostly to myself. “Not…like that .”
Sawyer doesn’t say anything, just watches me with that same steady expression. I glance around his house—the wide, clean spaces, the floors that look like they’ve barely been walked on—and my stomach knots up tight.
“Where would we even live?” I ask, looking back at him. “I mean, I have to be here working with Zeus. But I’ve got my own training program running back at the Wilding ranch most days.”
He leans a hip against the counter, arms still crossed.
“You could move in here,” he says, feeling the words out as he says them. He doesn’t sound thrilled about it. But he doesn’t sound like he’s joking, either.
I stare at him, horrified. Move in here? Into this big, quiet, surgically clean house with a man I barely know? I think I might actually throw up now.
“I can’t just…invade your space like that,” I say, shaking my head. “That’s—no. No way.”
He shrugs. “Probably won’t even see each other that much.” He pushes off the counter and gestures to a hallway off the kitchen. “There’s a big, nice guest room down that way.”
Then he points in the opposite direction. “My room’s over there.”
His voice stays calm, as if he’s explaining the floor plan to a potential buyer and not suggesting we fake an entire marriage.
“I get one, maybe two days off a week if I’m lucky,” he says. “You’ll be at your family’s place most of the time. It won’t hurt my feelings if you’re gone most of the day, even though you’re totally welcome here.”
I blink at him, trying to keep up.
He shrugs again. “We’ll be like ships in the night.”
Right. Ships in the night. Completely normal.
I let out a breath, a laugh slipping out that sounds way more panicked than I want it to.
“Oh, fuck,” I whisper, dragging my hand down my face. “This is a terrible idea. Isn’t it?”
Sawyer just lifts a brow, waiting for me to answer my own question.
“Normal people don’t do this,” I add, because apparently my mouth has decided to keep going without consulting my brain. “They don’t just…marry each other to save a ranch. Or to get water. Or whatever the hell we’re trying to do.”
“Oh my God,” I breathe, looking around. Maybe, if I have any luck, I’ll find a trap door to fall through. My eyes land right back on Sawyer’s.
“We’re going to have to have a real wedding, aren’t we?” I say, dread curling low in my stomach. “A real, legit wedding. With guests and shit?”
Sawyer nods once, slow. “With guests and shit.”
I let out a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a whimper and start pacing because sitting still feels impossible. Because if I don’t move, I might actually spontaneously combust.
“And our families?” I say, spinning back toward him. “What are we supposed to tell our families?”
“We tell them.”