Page 75 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

“Then maybe you should stay off,” he says.

I smile, but there’s no warmth in it. “That sounded personal.”

“That sounded practical.”

“Since when are you practical about women?”

“Since this one lives in our house and works in our office while someone’s actively interfering with the accounts.”

Huh?

I sit back slowly. “Okay. That’s the first useful thing you’ve said.”

Cody exhales through his nose and puts his glasses back on, which means he regrets having said even that much. “If you’re done, leave.”

“Not yet.”

His stare narrows.

I hold up a hand. “I’m serious, Cody. Are you actually looking at the books, or are you hiding behind them because you don’t want to answer me?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, which is answer enough.

Then he turns one of the monitors toward me.

At first, all I see is rows of timestamps and file paths, the kind of backend system nonsense that makes my eyes glaze over after about twenty seconds because, unlike my brother, I wasn’t born wanting to romance a spreadsheet.

But even I can tell what I’m looking at is wrong.

“Whose access is that?” I ask.

“Annie’s.”

I look at him.

“Except it isn’t,” he says. “Her login shows activity she shouldn’t be able to perform without secondary approval, and there’s no record of that approval happening.”

That gets all of my attention at once. “Someone used her login?”

“Or made it look like someone did.”

“And you didn’t tell her.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know what I’m looking at yet.”

I stare at the screen again.

The dates mean nothing to me. But the implications do.

Someone’s in the system. Someone wants Annie visible. Or compromised. Or both.

And suddenly my jealousy feels very small and very stupid sitting beside that.

We have way more going on here that I need to be focused on.