It’s still strange how easily he lets me make decisions for Hollis now, when five months ago he fought every suggestion like it was a threat. It’s made the last stretch of these six months easier to live in. Easier to forget what’s coming.
It’s insane to realize we’re already into the last month of this. The countdown has been sitting heavy in my chest as the end gets closer.
When this started, I counted the days until the six months were up so I could sell my share and leave the ranch behind. Now the math doesn’t work the same way.
I’ve gotten close to the ranch hands, especially Hank, who’s shown me what it actually takes to keep this place alive. The town has worked its way into my routine, into my days.
Daisy’s scones and coffee have become something I rely on more than I should. And then there’s Gage. Broody,gruff, impossible Gage Hollis, who somehow became my comfort before I realized how much that could cost me.
How am I supposed to walk away from all of this and go back to Austin? Back to a city life and a job spent behind a desk, surrounded by corporate suits.
My job may be in environmental protection, but it’s still a world away from this place—and from the choices waiting for me here.
I spent my morning buried in Gage’s bed, wrapped in a comfort that felt too easy for how temporary everything is. I moved into it not long after the night we spent together, mostly because we fell into it, and partly because—despite what he’ll admit—he likes sleeping next to me.
I enjoyed it more than I should. This morning just feels heavier than it should.
My thoughts keep circling, and I don’t want to drag the rest of the ranch down with me. I run a hand through my hair and let out a slow breath. No matter what, decisions won’t be made lying in bed—even if I keep pretending I still have time.
I slip from the covers, stretch, and pad downstairs toward the coffee maker. I make myself a cup, doctor it just right, and head out to the porch. Curling up on the swingingbench, I nurse my coffee while Jesse and Mason head off together, leaving the morning quiet.
Gage is kneeling by the tractor, shirtless, a worn work hat settled low over his brow like it’s always belonged there. I stare at his sun-darkened skin, slick with sweat under the rising light. His biceps flex with every turn of the wrench, and the longer I watch, the harder it is to look away.
Remind me how I’m supposed to return to Austin when this is what my mornings look like.
He stands and lifts the hat, wiping his brow with his forearm before settling it back into place. When he turns, the taut lines of his abdomen—and that familiar trail of dark hair—pull my attention hard and fast.
His gaze locks on mine, and he smirks, fully aware of exactly where my attention is. I take a slow sip of coffee, trying to steady myself. I breathe out slowly, but it doesn’t help much. Men like Gage Hollis don’t make it easy to stay grounded.
He tosses the wrench into his toolbox and starts up the steps. Even in the shade, his skin still gleams with sweat. “See something you like?” he teases, and I smile up at him, knowing I should look away—and don’t.
“I don’t know. I’ve been getting into cowboys lately. If you find one with dark hair, broody, and a real pain in my ass, let him know I’m interested,” I say, watching his reaction as he nods.
“I might know a guy,” he says, his smile slipping for just a beat, like his thoughts drift somewhere he doesn’t invite me into. With everything happening between us, I can’t be the only one thinking about what happens when the six months are up.
His expression shutters, and he pastes a grin back on like nothing slipped. “I think it’d be good for you to take a break for the day,” he says a little too quickly.
I lift an eyebrow. “Trying to get me out of the way again?”
The joke lands, but something underneath it doesn’t.
He laughs, easy and practiced. “Nah. We both know the ranch runs a lot smoother with you behind the scenes.” At least he’s finally admitting it. “You’ve done a lot for the place.
“You deserve to relax,” he says. “It won’t burn down if you’re not making calls, checking the books, or untangling whatever crap Uncle Sam failed to disclose—for one day.”
I suppose he’s right, even if it feels foreign to hear it said out loud.
I’ve done little else since I got here. Less time combing through what Samuel did or didn’t do, more time figuring out how the ranch was quietly bleeding money—through water rights, delayed repairs, and Horizon’s illegal bullshit creeping in where no one was looking.
Rest hasn’t exactly felt like an option.
I stand and walk over to him anyway, the decision settling slowly in my chest.
His hands slide around my waist, warm and sure, pulling me close like this is easy for him—like I’m something he already knows how to hold. I tip the brim of his hat up with two fingers and kiss him slowly, deliberately, a soft hum slipping from my throat as I linger there.
“A bubble bath does sound nice,” I murmur, pulling back just enough to see his eyes darken, his gaze dropping to my mouth before lifting again. His eyes hood, desire flickering there—sharp, controlled, unmistakable.
“Then get in there before I make you work,” he says, his voice rough enough to pull something dangerous and hot low in my belly.
