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Colton shook his head. “Nope. Pretty typical for me. You?”

“Same. Sleep is for the weak.”

Colton scoffed.

The quiet returned, stretching long enough for me to properly stare. The moonlight softened his sharp features, casting shadows that made him look less broody and more…weary. His usual intensity was dulled, and I noticed details I hadn’t before—faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, how prominent the silver streaks woven into his dark hair really were.

“How old are you?” I blurted, unable to stop the thought before it escaped.

Colton groaned, and that’s when I noticed the beer dangling from his fingers. “Why?”

“Because I’m curious,” I said, shrugging.

“Forty-two.”

I let out a low whistle. Colton glanced at me from the corner of his eye.

“What about you?” he asked.

I smirked, leaning back in the chair. “Wow, didn’t your mom ever teach you not to ask a woman her age?”

“Nope.” He took a long sip of his beer, gaze fixed on the horizon.

I chuckled under my breath. He was blunt and unapologetic, and man did I like it.

“Since you weren’t aware of that rule, I’ll tell you,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “But you have to swear to secrecy.”

“Ugh, okay…” Colton leaned back, feigning disinterest, though I could see the faintest flicker of curiosity in his gaze.

“Thirty-three.”

He nodded, taking another sip of his beer without a word. The silence that followed was heavier. Somehow, this minimal conversation was making my thoughts race even faster than before. I hated it—hated feeling unsteady. I felt an almost desperate need to fill the void with words, anything to keep the flow going.

“The post from the charity night is doing really well. People—”

Colton cut me off with a wave of his beer. “No shop talk,” he said firmly. “It’s too late—or I guess early—for that.”

I blinked, momentarily stunned. What the hell else was there to talk about with him? I couldn’t shake the uneasiness, the sense that certain topics were strictly off-limits. It wasn’t like me to avoid conversation or to feel at a loss for words, but something about this moment felt…different.

Two questions ran through my mind—why was Colton Stone here on the ranch this early in the morning? And why would he be hanging out here, in a space reserved for guests? A man with his kind of money should be holed up in some sprawling, unnecessary mansion, tucked deep in the woods where no one could bother him. That kind of solitude seemed to suit his aloof personality.

My gaze followed him, studying the way he moved, trying to figure out the puzzle that was Colton Stone. He was a challenge to me, and I loved a challenge.

His expression darkened, lips pressing into a tight line like he could feel me peeling back layers he wasn’t ready for me to see.

“So, tell me,” I started, tilting my head. “Why is the CEO of Stone Ranch lingering at work until the wee hours of the morning?”

Colton’s voice came out low and gravelly, laced with something unreadable. “Because I can.”

A short laugh escaped me. “I meant, shouldn’t you be heading home? Kicking back in your four-post king-sized bed, wrapped in silk sheets?”

One of his brows lifted. “Do I look like the kind of man who enjoys silk sheets?”

I hummed, pretending to consider. “Who doesn’t love silk? It feels incredible on bare skin. Soft, elegant…” I sighed, letting myself get lost for a second in the memory of my own bed back in New York—the bed I’d tailored to my every liking. It’s the one thing I truly missed about my place in the city.

I took pride in my space. A big, fluffy comforter. Expensive sheets. Too many pillows.

“I don’t have a home,” Colton said, his voice even, like the words meant nothing.