Chapter 13- Reasons to Stay.

SAWYER.

4:58 A.M.

I stood outside Chloe's bedroom door, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and wondering how many times I'd have to knock before the princess decided to join the living.

Five in the morning wasn't exactly a respectable hour for most people.

But cattle didn't give a damn about respectable hours.

Neither did I.

I knocked twice.

Nothing.

I knocked again.

"Chloe! Rise and shine, princess!"

A muffled groan came from the other side.

Good. She was alive.

"Go away, Sawyer."

I grinned.

"Can't do that, sweetheart. We've got work to do."

"It's still nighttime."

"Actually, it's morning."

"The sun isn't out."

"He's probably smarter than both of us."

Silence.

Then something hit the door.

I looked down at the floor.

A pillow.

Well, that was encouraging.

"Did you just throw a pillow at me?"

"Consider it a warning."

I chuckled.

"Five minutes, princess. Dallas is waiting."

"Tell Dallas I love him, but I would appreciate it if he respected my sleeping schedule."

"Pretty sure Dallas has better things to do than worry about your beauty sleep."

"Sawyer Montgomery, I am going to murder you."

"Get in line, sweetheart."

I walked toward the kitchen, laughing to myself.

That woman was something else.

When she'd first arrived at the ranch, I figured she'd last about three days before packing her fancy little bag and heading back to wherever she'd come from.

Instead, she'd surprised the hell out of me.

She complained, sure.

Lord knew she complained.

But she worked.

And she worked hard.

I'd watched her struggle with things most ranch hands learned before they were old enough to drive. She'd stumbled, gotten dirty, bruised her hands, and probably discovered muscles she never knew existed.

Yet every morning, she showed up again.

There was something about that kind of determination I couldn't help respecting.

Even if it came wrapped in a five-foot-something package of stubbornness and expensive manners.

I poured myself another cup of coffee.

Ten minutes later, Chloe appeared in the kitchen.

Her hair was pulled into a messy little ponytail, and she wore jeans, boots, and a sweatshirt that looked suspiciously like one of mine.

I raised an eyebrow.

"That my sweatshirt?"

She looked down.

"Possibly."

"Possibly?"

“I found it in the laundry room,” she replied innocently.

“I had just washed it,” I pointed out.

“And you did a wonderful job. It's very comfortable.”

I stared at her, wondering how she'd managed to turn stealing my clothes into a compliment.

“Your observational skills are remarkable this morning,” she added with a mischievous smile.

I shook my head.

"You're unbelievable."

"So I've been told."

She reached for the coffee.

I moved the pot away.

"Not so fast."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Sawyer."

"You're riding Dallas before breakfast. Better get some water in you first."

She stared at me.

"Are you always this controlling?"

"Only before sunrise."

She sighed dramatically.

"Wonderful. I've been kidnapped by a cowboy with authority issues."

I laughed and handed her a bottle of water.

"Drink up, princess. We've got fences to check."

---

By the time we reached the barn, the sky had begun turning a pale shade of blue.

Dallas greeted Chloe with an enthusiastic nicker.

Naturally.

That horse had become ridiculously attached to her.

"Good morning, handsome," she whispered, rubbing his forehead.

I leaned against the stall.

"Morning to you too, sweetheart."

She didn't even look at me.

"I was talking to Dallas."

"Figured."

She kissed the horse's nose.

I shook my head.

"Just so we're clear, princess, that horse eats hay, rolls in dirt, and occasionally tries to bite people."

"He's still better behaved than you."

"That's debatable."

She smiled.

And there it was.

That damn smile.

I was starting to develop a serious problem with that smile.

We saddled the horses and headed toward the eastern pasture, where I needed to check the fence line before moving the cattle out.

Chloe rode Dallas beside me, sitting a little straighter than she had during her first few rides.

She was getting better.

A hell of a lot better.

"You're doing good," I told her.

She turned toward me.

"Was that a compliment?"

"Don't get used to it."

"I should write down the date."

"Keep talking, and I'll take it back."

She laughed.

The sound carried through the quiet morning. And damn if it didn't make everything feel a little brighter.

We rode along the fence, stopping occasionally so I could inspect a loose wire or check for damage.

Chloe watched carefully.

"How do you know where to look?"

"Experience."

"That's a very unhelpful answer."

I chuckled.

"See those tracks?"

She leaned forward.

"Yes."

"Deer. They cross through here sometimes. If they catch a wire, they can pull it loose."

She nodded thoughtfully.

"And if the fence is damaged, the cattle could wander?"

"Exactly."

"Then we should check that section more carefully."

I looked at her.

She was already studying the fence.

Not pretending to be interested.

Actually interested.

And I felt something shift inside my chest.

Again.

Son of a bitch.

---

As we continued riding, my thoughts drifted back to the drive we'd taken to my favorite place.

I'd been there countless times over the years.

Usually alone.

Sometimes when I needed to clear my head.

Sometimes when the memories became too much.

But taking Chloe there had been different.

I'd watched her look around with genuine wonder, taking in the scenery as though I'd shown her something extraordinary.

To me, it was familiar.

To her, it was beautiful.

And somehow, seeing it through her eyes had reminded me why I'd loved that place in the first place.

I hadn't expected to enjoy her company so much.

Hadn't expected her questions, her laughter, or the comfortable silences between us. And I sure as hell hadn't expected to spend the drive home wishing it would take a little longer.

That was the part bothering me.

I liked having her around.

More than I should.

More than I wanted to admit.

And I knew it.

"Sawyer?"

I blinked.

"Yeah?"

"Are you listening to me?"

"Of course."

"What did I say?"

Shit.

She smiled knowingly.

"That's what I thought."

"I was thinking."

"Clearly. It looked painful."

I laughed.

"Careful, princess."

"Or what?"

I glanced at her.

"Or I'll make you clean the chicken coop."

Her smile disappeared.

"That is an abuse of power."

---

By the time we returned to the barn, the sun had risen above the trees.

Chloe dismounted Dallas and immediately began loosening his saddle.

"You can leave that," I told her.

"I know how to do it."

"I didn't say you didn't."

"Then stop hovering."

I held up both hands.

"Yes, ma'am."

She gave me a satisfied smile.

Stubborn woman.

But I watched her work, and something warm settled in my chest.

There was a fragility beneath that determination.

I'd seen it in the way she sometimes went quiet when she thought nobody was watching.

In the moments when her smile disappeared without warning.

In the questions she avoided answering.

I didn't know what she'd left behind.

But whatever it was, it had hurt her.

And despite every instinct telling me to mind my own damn business, I wanted to know who'd put that sadness in her eyes.

Not because I was curious.

Because I wanted to make damn sure nobody ever did it again.

That realization scared the hell out of me.

"Chloe?"

She glanced over her shoulder.

"Yes?"

"After you finish with Dallas, feed the chickens and the other horses. I'll handle breakfast."

She smiled.

"That sounds like a wonderful arrangement."

"Figured you'd appreciate it."

"Why wouldn't I?"

I hesitated.

Then decided to have a little fun.

"Because I've noticed something about you."

Her expression turned suspicious.

"What?"

"You don't cook."

She straightened.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"That is a rather bold assumption."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

I crossed my arms.

"All right, princess. What was the last meal you cooked?"

She opened her mouth.

Closed it.

Looked toward Dallas.

Then back at me.

"That depends on your definition of cooking."

I burst out laughing.

"Jesus Christ."

"I can prepare food!"

"Can you?"

"Of course!"

"Without someone else doing the actual cooking?"

She narrowed her eyes.

"You are an insufferable man."

"And you're avoiding the question."

She lifted her chin.

"I have successfully prepared toast."

I stared at her.

"Toast?"

"Perfectly browned."

I laughed so hard I had to lean against the stall.

"Well, hell, princess. I'll alert the culinary world."

She grabbed a handful of clean straw and tossed it at me.

"Go make breakfast, cowboy."

"Yes, ma'am."

I headed toward the house, still laughing.

---

Forty minutes later, I had bacon sizzling in the skillet, eggs ready to scramble, and biscuits warming in the oven.

Chloe came through the back door, brushing dust from her jeans.

"Everyone has been fed," she announced.

"Even the chickens?"

"Especially the chickens."

"Any casualties?"

"Only my dignity."

I grinned.

She washed her hands and wandered toward the stove.

"That smells wonderful."

"You're welcome."

She glanced at the biscuits.

"Did you make those?"

"Sure did."

"From scratch?"

I gave her a look.

"Some of us know our way around a kitchen."

She rolled her eyes.

"Must you be so smug?"

"Only when I've earned it."

She settled at the table while I finished cooking.

For a moment, I caught myself looking at her.

My sweatshirt.

Her messy hair.

The way she'd made herself comfortable in my kitchen.

It was such a simple sight.

And somehow, it unsettled me more than anything else.

Because it felt natural.

Too damn natural.

I turned back toward the stove.

"Eat up when I bring this over. We've got to head into town afterward."

"I still have a list of chores I need to finish," she reminded me.

"I'll help you get through that list."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"Because we need to stop by Ricky's shop. He's supposed to have the final estimate for your Mustang, and we need to go over the parts he has to order. Besides, this morning is the only time I can take you."

Her face brightened immediately.

"Oh! I forgot about that."

"Really?"

"No, not really," she admitted with a small smile. "I just didn't know if you'd rather wait until I finished all my work."

"That's why I offered to help you, princess. Besides, I figured you'd be anxious to find out what's happening with that Mustang of yours."

"I am!" she admitted excitedly. "Do you think Ricky has good news?"

"Well, don't get your hopes up about getting your car back anytime soon. He still has parts to order, and we don't even know what the final damage is going to cost."

She sighed.

"I know. I just wish I could have my car back."

"We'll see what Ricky has to say. Besides, we've got another stop to make while we're in town."

"Where?"

"The vet's office. I need to pick up some medicine for the horses."

Her eyes widened with concern.

"What's wrong with them? Are they sick?"

I shook my head almost immediately.

"No, sweetheart. They're fine."

"Then why do they need medicine?"

"Routine deworming treatment. Nothing to worry about."

"Oh." She visibly relaxed. "Thank goodness."

Jesus Christ.

I wasn't about to let her think something was wrong with the horses. Not after the way she'd cried over the chicken I'd used to make soup.

I'd never seen a grown woman mourn a chicken quite like Chloe had.

Hell, she'd looked at me as though I'd personally betrayed the entire animal kingdom.

And the worst part?

I'd actually felt guilty.

Over a fucking chicken.

I shook my head at the memory.

"What?" she asked suspiciously.

"Nothing."

"Sawyer."

I grinned.

"Just remembering how you nearly held a funeral for our chicken soup."

Her mouth fell open.

"That is not funny!"

"Sweetheart, you cried over chicken soup."

"Because I knew the chicken!"

I burst out laughing.

"Well, next time, I'll make sure you two aren't formally introduced."

She narrowed her eyes.

"You're a terrible man."

"You've told me that more than once."

She tried to look offended, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her.

I turned back toward the stove, still smiling.

Of course she missed her Mustang.

That car was one of the few things she still had from wherever she'd come from. And I had a feeling it meant more to her than she'd ever admitted.

I didn't know what kind of life Chloe had left behind, but I knew she wasn't ready to talk about it.

And for some damn reason, I was becoming increasingly willing to wait until she was.

I set a plate in front of her.

"Well, we'll see what Ricky has to say. Hopefully, he can get those parts ordered without too much trouble."

She looked up at me.

"Thank you, Sawyer."

I shrugged.

"Don't thank me yet. You haven't tasted the eggs."

She laughed.

And there it was again.

That warmth in my chest.

That strange, unfamiliar feeling I'd been trying so fucking hard to ignore.

I sat across from her and reached for my coffee.

Three years.

For three fucking years, I'd kept my world exactly the way I wanted it.

Quiet.

Predictable.

Safe.

Then a woman with a stolen wallet, a wrecked Mustang, and more secrets than I could count had crashed through my fence.

And somehow, without asking permission, she'd started finding her way into places I'd sworn would remain closed forever.

I looked at Chloe as she took her first bite of breakfast.

Her eyes widened.

"Sawyer, this is delicious."

I smiled.

"Careful, princess. Keep complimenting my cooking, and I might start charging you."

She laughed.

And God help me, I wanted to hear that sound again tomorrow.

And the day after.

And every damn morning after that.

Fuck.

I was in trouble.

By the time we finished the chores, it was nearly ten in the morning.

Chloe looked like she'd been dragged through every damn pasture on my property.

Her ponytail had practically given up on life, dirt covered the knees of her jeans, and there was a suspicious streak of something across her cheek.

I wasn't about to ask what it was.

The woman looked exhausted.

But she hadn't complained once.

Well, not much.

"You look like hell, princess," I told her as we approached my truck.

She stopped and turned toward me.

"How charming. Do you always compliment women this way?"

"Only the pretty ones."

She blinked.

Well, shit.

Had I just said that?

A faint blush crept across her cheeks before she looked away.

"Then I suppose I should feel honored."

I opened the passenger door for her.

"You should."

She climbed inside with considerably less grace than usual.

I couldn't blame her.

She'd worked her ass off all morning, and I was beginning to suspect she'd rather die than admit she was tired.

"You all right?" I asked.

"Perfectly."

"Uh-huh."

She fastened her seat belt.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because you just climbed into my truck like an eighty-year-old woman."

She gave me an offended look.

"An eighty-year-old woman would probably have more energy than I do right now."

I laughed and closed her door.

That woman.

She was something else.

---

Ricky's shop was already busy when we pulled into the gravel parking lot.

A pickup sat near one of the service bays, and the sound of an impact wrench echoed from somewhere inside.

I spotted Ricky beneath the hood of an old Chevrolet.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in!" he shouted when he noticed us.

Chloe smiled.

"Good morning, Ricky."

He straightened and wiped his hands on a rag.

"Morning, princess. Jesus, Sawyer, what'd you do to the poor girl?"

I frowned.

"What?"

Ricky gestured toward Chloe.

"She looks like you made her plow the entire county."

Chloe laughed.

"Not quite. Although I suspect that might be on tomorrow's schedule."

"Don't give him ideas," Ricky warned her.

I shook my head.

"Are you two finished?"

"Not even close," Ricky replied.

He turned back to Chloe.

"So, princess, you surviving ranch life?"

"I'm doing my best."

"That's all anyone can ask. Especially when you're working for this miserable bastard."

"Hey!"

Ricky ignored me.

"You know, if he gives you too much trouble, you can always come work here."

Chloe glanced around the garage.

"Doing what, exactly?"

"Keeping Sawyer from bothering me."

She laughed.

"That sounds like a full-time position."

"With excellent benefits," Ricky assured her.

"Would you two like some privacy?" I asked.

Ricky grinned.

"Jealous, Monty?"

"Of you? Not a fucking chance."

He laughed and slapped my shoulder.

"Good to see you too, buddy."

Chloe shook her head, clearly entertained.

By now, she'd become familiar with Ricky and his constant need to get under my skin. And the worst part was that she was starting to encourage the bastard.

"Where's my Mustang?" she asked, looking toward the garage.

"Still in the back, sweetheart," Ricky answered. "Why don't you take a look? I've got the hood up."

Her expression brightened.

"Of course."

She hurried toward the rear bay.

The moment she was out of earshot, Ricky stepped closer.

"Hey," he whispered. "You know, you could bring her over here sometime when you're not around."

I stared at him.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

He shrugged.

"Let her hang out. Claire could come by. They could get to know each other better."

I narrowed my eyes.

"Since when do you organize social gatherings at your garage?"

"Since my best friend started bringing a pretty woman everywhere he goes."

"Don't start."

Ricky grinned.

"Oh, I'm just getting started."

I shook my head.

"You're an idiot."

"And you're smiling."

I immediately stopped.

"Fuck off."

He laughed.

Then his expression changed slightly.

"Seriously, man. How's she doing?"

I glanced toward the back of the shop.

Chloe was leaning over the Mustang's engine compartment, studying something with an expression of intense concentration.

"Good," I admitted. "She's working hard."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Took her riding this morning. She's getting pretty comfortable on Dallas."

Ricky raised his eyebrows.

"Dallas? That horse barely tolerates you."

"Very funny."

"I'm serious. He likes her?"

"Apparently more than he likes me."

Ricky chuckled.

"Smart horse."

I ignored him.

“And yesterday, I took her up to my favorite place.”

Fuck. I'd just shot myself in the ass with that admission. Of all the things I could've told Ricky, why the hell did I have to mention that?

He went completely still.

Then he slowly turned toward me."Your favorite place?"

"Yeah."

"The one you drive to when you want everyone to leave you the hell alone?"

I nodded.

He stared at me.

"You took Chloe there?"

"That's what I said."

"Holy shit."

I frowned.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Ricky."

He shook his head, fighting a smile.

"Nothing, buddy. Just didn't think I'd see the day."

"See what day?"

"The day you'd willingly share that place with someone."

I looked away.

"It wasn't a big deal."

"Sure it wasn't."

"She wanted to get out for a while. I figured she'd enjoy the view."

"And did she?"

I thought about the way Chloe's face had softened when she'd seen the scenery.

How she'd stood there quietly, taking everything in.

How she'd smiled at me on the drive home.

"Yeah," I admitted. "She did."

Ricky watched me for another moment.

Then he smiled.

Not his usual smartass grin.

Something quieter.

Almost sentimental.

"What?" I demanded.

"Nothing, Sawyer."

"Then quit looking at me like that."

He chuckled.

"All right."

But he kept smiling.

And I had a feeling I wasn't going to like whatever was going through that thick skull of his.

---

"Ricky?"

Chloe's voice interrupted us.

She approached with her hands clasped in front of her.

"Have you had a chance to determine what needs to be repaired?"

Ricky glanced at me.

Then at Chloe.

Something shifted in his expression. And I should've recognized that look.

I'd known the bastard since we were kids.

Whenever Ricky looked that thoughtful, somebody was about to get screwed.

Usually me.

"Well, princess," he began, scratching the back of his neck. "I've been looking things over."

Chloe waited patiently.

"And?"

He sighed.

"Wish I had better news."

Her smile faded.

I frowned.

"What's wrong with it?"

Ricky walked toward the Mustang, and we followed.

"There's more damage than I initially thought. Some of the parts are going to be a real pain in the ass to get."

Chloe looked concerned.

"Because of the accident?"

"Partly. But you've also got to consider the model of this Mustang. Certain replacement parts aren't exactly sitting on every shelf in West Virginia."

She glanced at her car.

"How expensive are we talking?"

Ricky exhaled dramatically.

"Expensive enough that I'd recommend sitting down before I give you the final estimate."

I stared at him.

What the fuck?

He hadn't sounded nearly that concerned when we'd spoken earlier.

"Ricky," I interrupted. "You said you were putting together the parts list."

"I am."

"Then what's the problem?"

He gave me a pointed look.

"Availability, buddy. Availability."

I narrowed my eyes.

The son of a bitch.

Chloe folded her arms. "Well, surely the parts can be ordered."

"Absolutely," Ricky agreed. "But ordering them and getting them here are two different things."

"How long would it take?"

He scratched his chin.

"Hard to say."

"A week?"

He winced.

"Probably not."

"Two weeks?"

"Could be longer."

Her shoulders dropped.

"Oh."

And just like that, the excitement she'd carried into the shop disappeared.

I didn't like it.

Not one fucking bit.

"Hey," I said, stepping closer. "Don't worry about it yet. Let Ricky finish putting together the estimate."

She nodded, but I could see the disappointment in her eyes.

"I suppose there's nothing else I can do."

Ricky looked at her sympathetically.

"Tell you what, sweetheart. I'll make some calls and see what I can find. No promises, but I'll do my best."

"Thank you, Ricky. I appreciate it."

"Anytime."

She turned toward the Mustang again, running her fingertips along the edge of the hood.

For a moment, she looked so damn sad that I wanted to tell Ricky to order whatever the hell he needed and send me the bill.

Instead, I slipped my hands into my pockets.

"We've still got to stop at the vet's office," I reminded her gently.

She looked up.

"Of course."

"Why don't you wait by the truck? I'll be right there."

She nodded and headed outside.

The second the door closed behind her, I turned toward Ricky.

"What the fuck was that?"

He blinked innocently.

"What?"

"Don't give me that shit."

He leaned against the workbench.

"I'm giving her an honest assessment."

"Since when do you need a dramatic fucking performance to explain a parts order?"

Ricky's mouth twitched.

"You're awfully worked up about this."

"Because you just scared the hell out of her."

He studied me for a moment.

Then that familiar grin returned.

"Well, I'll be damned."

"What?"

"You really do care about her."

I clenched my jaw.

"She's my guest."

"Uh-huh."

"And I don't want her worrying about something we can fix."

"Of course."

"Ricky."

He laughed.

"Relax, buddy. I'll take care of the Mustang."

"Then give her a reasonable estimate."

"I will."

"And don't drag your feet."

His grin widened.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

I stared at him.

There was something about that smile I didn't trust.

Not for one fucking second.

---

Chloe was awfully quiet.

And I didn't like that one bit.

I couldn't tell whether I was bothered by how sad she looked or by the possibility that she wanted her car fixed so she could get the hell out of here.

Either way, the thought left a sour taste in my mouth.

"We'll get the parts, princess. Don't worry."

"I know," she breathed softly before turning toward the window.

Well, shit.

I turned up the radio.

Maybe a little Dolly Parton could lift her spirits.

Usually, Chloe teased me about knowing every damn word. Today, she didn't even smile.

By the time we reached Pleasant Valley Animal Hospital, I'd decided Ricky and I needed another conversation about that Mustang.

"Wait for me in the truck. I shouldn't be long."

"Okay."

I was about to open the door when Maggie walked out carrying her enormous orange cat.

"Good Lord, Sawyer Montgomery! What are you doing in town so early?"

"Good morning to you too, Maggie," I chuckled. "Picking up medicine for my horses."

I glanced at Oliver.

"Speaking of animals, what the hell have you been feeding that thing? He looks like he swallowed a basketball."

"Sawyer!" Maggie gasped. "Oliver is perfectly healthy!"

"Does he walk anymore, or do you just carry him everywhere?"

"You Montgomery men have absolutely no manners."

"So I've been told."

She glanced toward my truck.

"Oh! Is that Chloe?"

"Yeah."

"Well, why didn't you say something?"

Before I could answer, Maggie was already knocking on Chloe's window.

Within seconds, Chloe was smiling.

Apparently, all she needed was a librarian carrying an overweight cat.

I shook my head and headed inside.

---

Twenty minutes later, I returned to find Chloe standing beside Maggie, holding Oliver.

Traitorous little bastard.

But Chloe was laughing, and damn, I'd missed that sound.

"What do we have here?" I asked.

"Perfect timing!" Maggie exclaimed. "I was just offering Chloe a part-time position at the library."

I raised an eyebrow.

"A job?"

"Yes, Sawyer. A job."

"Doing what?"

"Helping with books, visitors, and children's activities. She's intelligent, well-spoken, and loves reading."

"References?"

Maggie rolled her eyes.

"Good heavens! I'm hiring someone to shelve books, not appointing a Supreme Court justice."

Chloe covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.

"And," Maggie continued, "she mentioned her car needs repairs. A little extra income could help."

There it was.

The Mustang.

Again.

"I hope you don't mind," Chloe said. "I explained that I'm staying at the ranch temporarily and have responsibilities there."

"Responsibilities?" Maggie repeated. "Goodness, child, you're not an indentured servant!"

"What the hell?" I protested.

"Don't swear in front of the young lady, Sawyer."

"Maggie, she's heard worse."

"That doesn't mean you should contribute to her corruption."

Chloe burst into laughter.

Wonderful.

Now the entire town was conspiring against me.

"Nobody said she couldn't work," I argued. "But she still has chores at the ranch. And there's the matter of the fence she destroyed."

Chloe's smile faded.

"I haven't forgotten about the fence, Sawyer."

Fuck.

I hadn't meant to upset her.

"What fence?" Maggie demanded.

"The one she drove through when she arrived."

"Oh, for heaven's sake! That was an accident."

"An expensive accident."

Maggie crossed her arms.

"And I suppose you've never damaged anything?"

"That's not the point."

"Then what is?"

Excellent fucking question.

A week ago, Chloe working off her debt had seemed like a perfectly reasonable arrangement.

Now she wanted to earn money.

Money to repair her car.

Money that would eventually help her leave.

And suddenly, I didn't like the arrangement nearly as much.

"Sawyer?" Chloe interrupted my thoughts. "I don't want you thinking I'm avoiding my responsibilities."

I sighed.

"That's not what I'm saying, princess."

"Then you wouldn't mind if I accepted?"

I glanced at Maggie, who looked ready to beat me with a dictionary if I said no.

"How many hours?"

"A few afternoons a week," Maggie answered.

"And you'll work around her ranch schedule?"

"Of course."

I nodded.

"All right."

Chloe brightened.

"Really?"

"Partially."

She frowned.

"Partially?"

"You still owe me for that fence, princess. And your chores aren't going anywhere."

Maggie made an irritated noise.

"Don't start," I warned.

Chloe laughed.

"So, as long as I finish my work, I can help Maggie?"

"That's what I said."

"Thank you, Sawyer!"

She stepped forward and hugged me, nearly squashing Oliver between us.

The cat protested.

I slipped an arm around her waist.

"You're welcome, princess."

Maggie watched us with a suspiciously pleased expression.

Oh, hell.

Not her too.

She smiled sweetly.

“Whatever you're thinking, you'd better drop it,” I warned.

"I wasn't thinking anything."

Bullshit.

"Thank you so much. I'd love to help." Chloe sang.

"Wonderful, dear! Come by tomorrow afternoon, and we'll discuss everything."

Maggie turned toward me.

"And Sawyer? Try not to work the poor girl to death."

"Goodbye, Maggie."

She laughed and walked away, carrying that enormous cat like a furry sack of potatoes.

"She's such a lovely woman," Chloe said.

"She's a menace."

"She's wonderful."

"She's nosy."

"She's kind."

"She's going to get you into trouble."

Chloe smiled.

"Then perhaps we'll get along beautifully."

"God help me."

---

Back in the truck, Chloe was practically glowing.

She talked excitedly about the library and helping children discover books.

And I listened.

Hell, I even smiled.

She deserved something that made her happy.

But that selfish bastard inside me couldn't stop thinking about the Mustang.

Every dollar she earned would bring her closer to leaving Pleasant Valley.

Leaving the ranch.

Leaving me.

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.

I could tell myself she still owed me for the fence.

That I needed her help around the property.

Perfectly reasonable excuses.

And every single one was bullshit.

Because the truth was becoming impossible to ignore.

I didn't want Chloe to leave.

I glanced at her.

She was looking out the window again.

Only this time, she was smiling.

And somehow, that made everything worse.

I wanted her happy.

I wanted her safe.

I just wasn't ready to accept that the life she wanted might not include me.

Fuck.

I was in real trouble.

And for the first time in three years, I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to find my way out.