Chapter 1

Mia didn't unpack right away.

She told herself it was because she was tired. Because the drive had been long, the air too hot, the entire situation too irritating to deal with.

But really?

It was because unpacking meant staying.

And Mia Carter wasn't ready to admit that yet.

She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her suitcase like it had personally betrayed her. The room Cindy had set up was... nice. Soft white bedding, a wooden dresser, little touches like a vase of fresh flowers by the window.

It should've felt welcoming.

Instead, it felt temporary.

Like a hotel she hadn't chosen.

A soft knock broke her thoughts.

"Mia, sweetheart?" Cindy's voice came through the door. "Dinner's almost ready."

Mia stood, smoothing her hands over her outfit out of habit. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Take your time!"

Mia waited until Cindy's footsteps faded before glancing at herself in the mirror.

Still her.

Still city.

Still completely out of place.

"Great," she muttered, grabbing her phone—still no signal—and heading downstairs.

The sound of voices drifted through the house as she reached the bottom step. Cindy's light, easy tone... and a deeper one.

Lane.

Mia slowed slightly, catching part of the conversation.

"...she's just a kid, Lane."

"She's not a kid," he replied. "She's eighteen. Old enough to know better."

Mia's jaw tightened.

Know better?

She stepped fully into the kitchen before she could stop herself.

"Good to know you've already formed an opinion," she said.

Both of them turned.

Cindy's expression shifted instantly. "Mia! We were just—"

"Talking about me?" Mia finished, crossing her arms.

Lane didn't look surprised.

If anything, he looked... unsurprised.

"Wasn't exactly a secret," he said.

Mia let out a short laugh. "Right. Because you've got me all figured out already."

He leaned back slightly against the counter, completely at ease.

"Don't need to figure you out," he said. "Seen it before."

Her eyes narrowed. "Seen what?"

"Girls like you."

There it was again—that spark. Sharp. Immediate.

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Mia asked.

Cindy stepped in quickly. "Okay! Food is ready, let's just—"

"No," Mia said, not taking her eyes off Lane. "I'd actually love to hear this."

Lane held her gaze, steady, unbothered.

"City girl," he said. "Thinks this place is beneath her. Counting down the days until she leaves."

Mia scoffed. "Well, at least you got one thing right."

Cindy set the plates down a little harder than necessary. "Alright, that's enough."

The tension in the room thickened, stretching between them.

"Sit," Cindy said, gentler now but firm. "Both of you."

Mia hesitated before pulling out a chair. Lane followed, though he looked far less affected by any of this.

Dinner started in silence.

The kind that wasn't peaceful.

The kind that made every small sound feel louder—the clink of cutlery, the scrape of chairs, the quiet exhale Mia didn't realise she'd made.

"So," Cindy said brightly, trying again. "Mia, I thought tomorrow I could show you around town. It's small, but it's got charm."

Mia nodded politely. "Sure."

"There's a café, a few shops, a lake not too far—"

"She won't last a week," Lane cut in casually.

Cindy froze. "Lane—"

Mia set her fork down.

"Do you have a problem?" she asked, her voice calm—but only just.

He met her eyes. "No."

"Then why do you keep talking like you do?"

Lane shrugged slightly. "Just stating facts."

Mia let out a humourless laugh. "You don't know anything about me."

"Don't need to," he said. "You've been here, what—an hour? Already complaining."

"I wasn't complaining—"

"You called it 'the middle of nowhere,'" he interrupted.

"Because it is."

"And you said you wouldn't be here long."

"Because I won't."

Another pause.

Longer this time.

Then Lane leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table.

"Wanna bet?"

The challenge in his voice caught her off guard.

Mia tilted her head. "Excuse me?"

"You won't last," he said. "Not here. Not with this life."

Something in her chest tightened.

Not doubt...

Defiance.

"You don't get to decide that," she said.

"No," he agreed easily. "You'll prove it yourself."

Cindy exhaled, clearly at her limit. "Alright, that's enough from both of you."

But Mia didn't look away.

"Fine," she said, her voice sharper now. "I'll stay."

Lane's brow lifted slightly.

"Longer than a week," she added.

Silence.

Then—

A slow, almost impressed smile.

"Alright," he said. "We'll see."

Mia picked up her fork again, her appetite gone but her point made.

Because there was no way she was letting him be right.

No way she was letting some country boy who'd judged her in five seconds decide what she could or couldn't handle.

She'd stay.

She'd prove it.

And then she'd leave—on her terms.

Simple.

Except...

As Mia glanced up, catching the way Lane was still watching her—like this was just the beginning.

She had the unsettling feeling that nothing about this was going to be simple.

Mia lasted through dinner on stubbornness alone.

Every bite tasted like cardboard, every second stretched thin by the weight of what had just been set in motion. She kept her eyes on her plate, refusing to look at him again—refusing to give him the satisfaction.

But she could feel it.

Lane's attention didn't disappear just because she wasn't meeting it. It lingered. Quiet. Intent.

Like he was waiting.

For what, she didn't know.

Cindy filled the silence where she could, asking small questions, telling light stories about town, about neighbours Mia would probably never remember the names of. Mia nodded in the right places, answered when she had to, and played the part well enough.

But underneath it all, something restless had settled into her chest.

Not nerves.

Not quite.

Something sharper.

Dinner eventually ended with the scrape of chairs and Cindy insisting Mia leave the dishes.

"You've had a long day," she said gently. "Go get some rest. Tomorrow will feel better."

Mia forced a small smile. "Yeah... okay."

She stood, already halfway turned toward the stairs—

"Sun's up at five."

Lane's voice.

Of course.

Mia paused, closing her eyes for half a second before turning back. "Good for the sun."

His mouth twitched—just slightly.

"If you're staying," he continued, like they hadn't just had an entire argument across the table, "you don't sleep half the day away here."

"I don't sleep half the day away anywhere," Mia shot back.

He didn't respond straight away. Just pushed off the counter, stepping a little closer—not enough to crowd her, but enough that she had to tilt her chin up to keep eye contact.

"You'll need boots," he said, his tone more matter-of-fact now. "Not those."

His gaze dropped briefly—just a flick—to her shoes.

Heat crawled up her neck.

"They're fine," she said.

"They won't be."

A beat.

"Thanks for the concern," Mia replied, tight.

Something unreadable crossed his expression. Not quite irritation. Not quite amusement.

Then he stepped back.

"Five," he repeated, before turning and heading out the back door.

The screen door creaked, then slapped shut behind him.

And just like that—

The air shifted.

Mia let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

Cindy gave her an apologetic look. "He means well."

Mia huffed quietly. "Could've fooled me."

"He's just..." Cindy hesitated, searching for the right words. "Protective. Of this place. Of the people in it."

Mia crossed her arms lightly. "By trying to run them off?"

Cindy's smile softened. "By making sure they're strong enough to stay."

That didn't sit right.

Or maybe it sat too well.

Mia didn't answer.

"Get some sleep," Cindy said again, gentler this time.

Mia nodded and turned toward the stairs, her footsteps quieter now. 

Her room felt different when she came back to it.

Still neat. Still untouched.

Still not hers.

Mia closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment, staring at the suitcase sitting exactly where she'd left it.

Unopened.

Uncommitted.

She pushed off the door and crossed the room, dropping onto the bed again—but this time, she didn't just sit.

She fell back.

Stared at the ceiling.

Five.

The number echoed in her head like a challenge she hadn't fully agreed to but couldn't ignore.

She turned her head, glancing toward the window.

The sky outside had darkened completely now, the kind of deep, open darkness the city never really had. No distant hum of traffic. No glow of streetlights bleeding through curtains.

Just quiet.

Real quiet.

It should've been peaceful.

Instead, it felt... exposed.

Mia sat up abruptly, restless energy prickling under her skin. She stood, moving toward the window, pulling the curtain aside.

The property stretched out beyond the house in long, shadowed shapes. Fences. Trees. Open land that seemed to go on forever.

And there—

A small light in the distance.

Moving.

Mia narrowed her eyes slightly.

It took her a second to realise what she was looking at.

A motorbike.

Lane.

Of course it was.

He moved easily across the land, the light bouncing with the terrain, like this place belonged to him in a way she couldn't even begin to understand.

Mia watched longer than she meant to.

Long enough that something in her chest shifted again—that same sharp, restless feeling from before, only quieter now. More curious than defensive.

Annoying.

She dropped the curtain.

"Five," she muttered under her breath.

Fine.

If that's how this was going to be—

She walked back to her suitcase, crouching down in front of it. Her fingers hovered over the zipper for a second.

Then, with a small, decisive pull—

She opened it.

Not all the way.

Just enough.

A start.

Because she wasn't staying.

Not really.

But she wasn't leaving tomorrow either.

And whether Lane thought so or not—

She wasn't about to lose this bet.