She's here.
Kassi steps out, shading her eyes from the sun, a folder clutched in one hand like a shield. Her hair's pulled back today, neat and low, but a few pieces have slipped loose, curling at her jaw. She walks like someone with something to prove, shoulders back, chin lifted. I shouldn't notice how good she looks in jeans and a soft blue blouse, but I do. Nor should I let my eyes linger on the way she moves, but I can't help it.
And I shouldn't still want her.
Pushing off the railing, I meet her halfway, my boots thudding heavily on the wooden planks.
"Afternoon," I say, though it comes out more clipped than I mean it to.
She holds out the folder. "Another offer with some documents and proposed timelines. Martin wanted me to hand-deliver them."
I take the folder, fingers brushing hers for a second. Just a second, but it's enough. Her breath catches. Mine holds. She smells of warm citrus and something softer I can't name, tugging at places I keep guarded.
"He sent you all this way just to drop off paperwork?"
"And to check in," she says, tone professional but tight. "Face to face. He's very big on looking people in the eye, even if he only does it via video."
I nod slowly, tucking the folder under my arm. "Alright then. Let's talk."
She follows me inside, and I can feel the tension thickening with every step. The office is quiet except for the ticking clock and the distant hum of cattle lowing beyond the window. I set the folder on the desk, but don't sit. Neither does she. She closes the door behind her, and instantly the small office smells like her citrus perfume. It's going to linger all day.
"So," I say, turning to face her. "Let's not pretend. I know exactly who you are."
Her eyes narrow. "Do you?"
"You work for the development group, trying to buy this ranch out from under us. For what? To put up apartments? Condos? To boost Walker Lake's population? No one here wants that. We live here because we like this small town. Bring in city folks, and it's not Walker Lake anymore. It's just another corporate resort town."
She pauses, and I can see her mind spinning before she speaks.
"That doesn't mean you know me."
I bark out a short laugh, but there's no humor in it. "You really think I haven't been paying attention? You were sent here to make it easier to tear all this down. You show up with soft smiles and fake questions like you care about the community, but you're just scouting the land for the highest bidder. Your boss did his homework. There is a reason he sent a beautiful single mom to do his dirty work instead of one of his hard-knock male execs."
She takes a breath, jaw tight. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you think."
There's fire in her voice now, and heat in her eyes. It makes something stir in me. Makes me want to challenge her and pull her closer, all at once.
"You think I wanted this job to turn into some hostile takeover? I didn't. I believed in what I was doing. Until recently."
That catches me off guard. Not the change in her beliefs because Bear knows that, but the fact that she is admitting it to me, Asher, face-to-face.
"So, what changed?"
Her mouth opens, then closes. She looks down. "I don't owe you an explanation."
"You're right," I say, stepping closer. "But don't act like you're innocent. You've been asking questions, poking around where you don't belong. That's not community engagement. That's reconnaissance."
Her eyes narrow, but she doesn't rise to the bait. Not with words. She studies me for a moment, clearly lining something up in her head. I can practically hear the gears turning.
"People get curious when they care," she says carefully. "And sometimes lines blur before you realize you've crossed them."
That's something I once said to her. As Bear. One of the first messages, when we were still dancing around the edges of something neither of us could name.
Her lips part, just slightly. I see the thought land in her eyes. But she doesn't say it. Not yet. She tucks it away like a question she's not ready to ask.
I don't confirm it or deny it. I just let the weight of it hang between us.
She shifts her stance, the tension in her shoulders coiling tighter. Her gaze lingers on my face, then flickers briefly to my hands, like she's trying to connect something unspoken. I see her swallow hard, then shake her head slightly, as if trying to dismiss a thought that came too fast, too strong.