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“Maybe just on a mission for her.”
“Aw shit. That woman needs to leave well enough alone.”
“Could say the same for you.”
I looked up at him, my eyes stinging in the sun, despite my hat blocking the worst of it.
“I was just thinking of the ranch. The town. We don’t need some tourism hot spot right next door.”
“That’s not what she’s building and if you’d listen to her, you’d know that.”
“Oh, and when did you listen to her?” I knew Mason wasn’t a threat, but the blood rushing in my veins didn’t get the memo. I was so crazed for her, everyone felt like a threat.
“I like her. I think you do too, you’re just too stubborn to admit it.”
“I can admit it. Don’t change anything about the business, though.”
“You’re an idiot sometimes, you know that?”
“Yep,” I agreed. No point in fighting that fact.
“Town could use some changes.”
“Change ain't always for the better,” I muttered, but my certainty wavered like a heat mirage on the horizon.
“Sometimes it is,” Mason countered, dismounting his horse with the ease of a man who’d done it a million times. “She could bring folks who'd appreciate this place . . . maybe even help the ranch.”
I dropped the wire I was holding. “You really think so?”
He nodded. “I do.”
I chewed over his words, the taste of possibility mingling with my stubbornness. “I suppose growth ain't a bad thing.”
“Shit, it sure isn’t.” He clapped me on the back. “And you know what else isn’t a bad thing?”
I had a feeling I’d be annoyed by what came out of his mouth next.
“Letting yourself be happy. Don't let a good opportunity slip through your hands. You never know, you might just like what comes of it.”
“Or who comes of it,” I added under my breath, surprising myself with the admission.
“Come again?” Mason teased, but I just shook my head.
“Nevermind.” I tipped my hat back, feeling the first crack in my resolve. Maybe it was time to stop bucking against the change that was coming, whether I liked it or not.
* * *
I woke up the next morning with a new resolve. Determined to actually give Eryn’s business my blessing, and hopefully, make her mine in the process. Heading down to the stables, the sound of my boots crunching against the gravel provided a comforting soundtrack to my morning routine—until they were drowned out by an unexpected clatter.
“Gray! You better come see this!” Mitch's voice, usually as calm as settled dust, carried a sharp edge of urgency that had me breaking into a jog.
“What's got you hollerin' at this hour?” I called out, rounding the corner of the building.
“Damned if I know who did it, but look here.” Mitch pointed toward the fence line where wooden posts lay splintered, wire fencing cut clean through like it was done with malicious precision.
“Son of a—“ My words trailed off as I surveyed the damage, and a knot tightened in my stomach. This wasn't just some random act; it felt personal.
“Found a couple of the horses grazing by the road, almost got themselves hit,” Mitch continued, his eyes scanning the expanse of our land, face etched with concern.
