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“I forgive you,” he said, his voice lighter now. “And I mean it—I want you to be happy, Eleanor. If that means my boss, then…I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

I nodded, letting the quiet settle between us for a moment. This had gone better than I ever expected.

Axel wasn’t a villain. He wasn’t even a bad guy. Just someone who had wanted something different than I did. And now, it was painfully clear why we hadn’t worked out.

I liked them broodier. Grumpier. And wearing cowboy boots.

Holding out my hand, I offered a truce. Axel took it, his fingers wrapping around mine.

“Good luck,” I said.

Axel held onto my hand for just a second longer before releasing it. “You too.”

I took a step back, then another, finally turning toward the door.

“Oh, and Eleanor?”

I turned, arching a brow.

“Maybe…mention to Colton how good of a chef I am? I kinda like working here.” His smirk was back, his eyes gleaming with humor.

I snorted, shaking my head as I glanced down. “Funny, considering what I did tell him about you, I thought you’d already be looking for a new job by now.”

Axel let out a short laugh, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

I’d created this mental picture of Axel in my head I think in part to deflect my own insecurities and that was unfair. After having the conversation, even as brief as it was, I can see how I’d let my emotions control my reactions.

Raising a hand in farewell, I gave him one last look before slipping out the door.

Stepping into the hallway, I found my bags exactly where I had left them. Slipping my purse over my shoulder, I grabbed my suitcase and made my way toward the lobby.

A small smile tugged at my lips—one that felt good. Light. Free.

The weight of old wounds, of past love and lingering resentment, had finally lifted. I hadn’t even realized how much I’d been carrying until now.

And damn, did it feel good to finally set it down.

Chapter 31

Colton

THE FRONT DOORS of Stone Ranch creaked open, and there she was.

Eleanor.

Black leggings, an oversized T-shirt, and her hair messily swept into a bun that somehow only made her look more beautiful.

This was it. We were back on the road for the last time. The thought twisted something sharp in my chest, but I buried it under a smolder as I walked toward her.

“Did you pack enough shit?” I said, reaching for the rolling suitcase she was dragging and the bag slung over her shoulder.

Eleanor raised a brow, her signature sass firmly in place. “I’m a lady who likes to be prepared for every occasion. Take me as I am, Mr. Stone.”

I rolled my eyes, letting her have the last word, and popped the truck’s back door open. Her luggage landed with a satisfying thud next to my single, modest duffel bag.

She climbed into the passenger seat with her backpack, likely stuffed with everything she needed to work and amuse herself for the drive.

I’d done this route enough times to know I could knock it out in one go—no stops, no fuss. But Eleanor was the type who’d want to stop for drinks, a bathroom break, maybe even a gas station snack she didn’t need.