Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Abbie Carter was in her office pacing in front of the grand floor-to-ceiling windows of the Winters & Winters building, her phone pressed tightly to her ear as she tried to keep her emotions in check. The late afternoon sun glinted off the sleek skyscrapers of Manhattan, but her thoughts were miles away, back on her grandfather’s ranch. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she paced, each step a reflection of her mounting frustration.

This was the third time she’d called her grandfather and the phone rang twice before her grandfather’s familiar voice came through the line, rough and weathered like the man himself.

“Abbie, what’s this I hear about you winning that big case yesterday? I was fixin’ to call and congratulate you, but?—”

“Grampa,” she interrupted, her voice tighter than she’d intended. “We need to talk.”

There was a pause on the other end. “O-kay, this sounds serious. What’s goin’ on, sweetheart?”

“I got a call from Teddy Van Meter,” she began, her free hand rifling the papers on her desk. “He said he wants to buy the ranch.”

Her grandfather was silent for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, his tone was guarded. “Did he, now?”

“Yes,” Abbie said, the words tumbling out. “He made it sound like he’s swooping in to save the day. He offered way more than the ranch is worth—enough to cover debts, he said, and keep the rescue running. But the whole thing feels off, Grampa. Why would Teddy even know about our situation unless—” She stopped herself, taking a breath. “Unless the ranch really is in trouble. Is it, Grampa? Are you in trouble? And if you are, why didn’t you tell me?”

Her grandfather sighed heavily, the kind of sigh that carried the weight of years and unspoken burdens. “Abbie, I didn’t want to worry you. You’ve got your hands full with your career, and you’re doin’ so well. I didn’t see the point in draggin’ you into it.”

“You aren’t draggin’ me into anything.” Her frustration bubbled to the surface. “I could have helped, Grampa. I still can. But I need you to be honest with me. How bad is it?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before he finally answered. “It’s not good, sweetheart. I won’t lie to you. Between the hay fire, the vet bills, and the feed prices goin’ through the roof, I’ve been havin’ a hard time stayin’ afloat. The horse rescue has more horses that need us than the therapy program needs them so instead of turnin’ them away, I’ve been syphering funds out of the money your dad left me. The bank’s been callin’, and I had to let some things slide to make ends meet.”

Abbie closed her eyes, her chest tightening. She could hear the exhaustion in his voice, the defeat he was trying so hard to hide. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she asked softly.

“Because I didn’t want you to feel like you had to drop everything and come running,” he said simply. “You’ve worked so hard to get where you are, Abbie. I didn’t want to be the reason you gave any of that up. The last thing I want to be is a burden.”

She swallowed hard, blinking back the sting of tears. “You’re not a burden, Grampa. You never have been, and you never will be. I’m coming home. We’ll figure this out together.”

“Of course, we will,” he said, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

“We’re not selling to Teddy—or anyone else—until we know exactly what’s going on. Promise me you won’t make any decisions until I get there.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “Besides, you know Teddy’s a slick one. He doesn’t do anything without a reason.”

“I know,” she said, her voice softening. “I love you, Grampa.”

“Love you too, sweetheart. Be safe.”

She ended the call, taking a moment to compose herself before stepping into the busy hallway—the heart of the Winters & Winters law firm. The familiar hum of success buzzed around her—associates rushing to meetings, paralegals juggling files, the faint clink of espresso cups from the café in the corner. Normally, it was a world she thrived in, but today, it felt distant, almost foreign.

Abbie straightened her shoulders and headed to the elevator, riding it up to the top floor where Mr. Winters’s office awaited. The doors opened with a soft chime, and she stepped out into the plush, hushed corridor that led to the senior partner’s suite.

“Abbie,” his assistant, Juanita Bloomfield, greeted her with a warm smile, “go right in. He’s expecting you.”

She nodded, giving the always professional woman a polite smile before pushing open the heavy oak door. Mr. Winters was seated behind his massive desk, the Manhattan skyline stretching out behind him like a glittering tapestry.

“Abbie,” he said, rising to his feet. “Come in, come in. Congratulations on the Henderson trial. Truly remarkable work.”

“Thank you, Mr. Winters,” she said, taking a seat in the leather chair across from him. “I appreciate it.”

He studied her for a moment, his sharp eyes missing nothing. “But something tells me you’re not here to bask in the glow of your victory. What’s on your mind?”

Abbie hesitated, her hands clasping tightly in her lap. “It’s my grandfather,” she admitted. “He’s having some trouble making ends meet and someone’s made an offer to buy our ranch.”

Mr. Winters leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “I see. And you’re wondering if you should step in to help.”

She nodded. “I’ve worked so hard to get here, to build my career. But my grandfather... he’s done everything for me. After my mother left and my dad—died, it was my grandfather who gave me the foundation that made all of this possible. I can’t just sit back and let him lose everything.”

Mr. Winters was silent for a long moment, his gaze thoughtful. “You’re at a crossroads, Abbie. On one hand, you have a promising future here. On the other, you have a family legacy that’s at risk. It’s not an easy choice.”

“I know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t even know what I’m walking into. The ranch’s troubles could be bigger than I can handle.”

“Then gather the facts,” he said simply. “You’re an attorney, Abbie. Use those skills to your advantage. Investigate. Analyze. And most importantly, trust your instincts. They’ve served you well in the courtroom, and they’ll serve you well now.”

She nodded, his words sinking in. “Thank you, Mr. Winters. That helps.”

He smiled, a rare warmth breaking through his usually stern demeanor. “Whatever you decide, Abbie, know that this firm values you. If you need time to sort this out, take it. Your partnership isn’t going anywhere. You’ve earned it.”

Her chest tightened with gratitude. “Thank you, sir. I can’t tell you how much that means to me. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Your father was a good man and an exceptional attorney. I owe him a great deal because of the help and hard work he put into helping me build this firm. It’s my pleasure to pay my dear friend back.”

“Thank you again,” Abbie said then left his office and rode the elevator back down, her mind raced with plans. She’d dig into Teddy’s offer, uncover the truth behind his motives, and figure out exactly what was happening at the ranch. One thing was certain: she wasn’t about to let anyone take advantage of her grandfather—or his legacy. Her legacy.

And if Teddy thought she was the same naive girl he’d dated all those years ago, he was in for a rude awakening.

Back in her office, her phone pressed to her ear again, she dialed her grampa’s number. This time he answered on the first ring like he’d been waiting for her to call. She smiled. He could always count on her.

“Hi, Grampa,” she said when he answered. “Don’t you worry. I’m coming home. I’ll be there tomorrow sometime depending on when I can get a flight there.”

“Oh, Abbie,” he said, his voice obviously breaking with emotions. “I hate that you’re having to leave your job for me. But I’ll be honest, I can’t wait to see you and…” His words trailed off.

“It’s okay. I can’t wait to hug you too,” she said, her words soft yet firm.

She hung up and slipped her phone into her pocket, her heart heavy but resolute. She could go home and figure out what was going on and then beat it back to work. She’d give it a week— ten days tops and she’d be back in her office polishing her new partner’s door plate.

A voice interrupted her thoughts. She looked up to see Nathan Winters standing in her doorway, arms crossed and relaxed like he had absolutely nothing to do but flirt with the hired help—which he did often.

“Should I be jealous?” he asked, that ever-present grin lighting up his face with a hint of curiosity smeared across his forehead for good measure.

Abbie sighed. “Not in the mood, Nathan.”

His grin faltered, replaced by something that almost looked like concern. “I was hoping to take you out to celebrate your partnership, but it sounds like you’ve already got plans. I hope it’s not with that Will guy over at the District Attorney’s office. He’s not nearly good enough for you.”

“And you are I presume?” He seemed immune to her sarcasm no matter how many times she’d turned down his invites.

“Well, I mean.” He held out his arms and gave her that cheeky grin he was famous for like one look at him was enough to answer that question. She just rolled her eyes and started sorting through the stack of papers on her desk to figure out which junior attorney she could assign the cases to.

“Seriously, Abbie. If you need anything at all, just say the word.”

For once, he sounded sincere, and it threw her off balance. She studied him for a moment and tempered her response just in case he really was sincere—which she doubted. “Thanks, Nathan. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And if you need to use me as your liaison while you’re gone, you know to manage your cases, I’ll be happy to fill in.”

“I think Missy is fully capable of managing things the short time I plan to be gone.”

“Missy doesn’t have the authority to persuade junior attorneys to behave the way I do.”

She looked up again at Nathan and watched his eyebrows rise and fall in tandem with that cheeky grin of his. As much as she wanted to ignore her boss’s middle son, she found herself shaking her head at him and grinning back. “You are incorrigible, you know that?”

He laughed and she could admit he was quite handsome in that college, spoiled frat boy sort of way. “I knew if I kept swinging long enough I’d crack that shell of yours, Miss Carter.”

“You haven’t cracked anything, Mr. Winters, but I can admit I do find your antics amusing—at times.”

“I’ll settle for amusing. For now.” She heard the promise in his tone and decided it was time to change the subject.

“I’m going home for a week or so and I expect you to have my caseload assigned and progressing. Understood?” She shoved the stack of folders across the desk toward him.

“Does this mean we’re going steady?” Nathan reached across her desk for the files pushing his expensive cologne into her personal space.

“Get out, Nathan,” she groused.

“All right. All right. You can’t blame a guy for trying, can you?” He grabbed the files and clutched them in his arms.

“Yes, I can. Now I’ve got to pack.” She ushered Nathan out of her office and locked the door behind her. She stopped off at Missy’s desk to inform her assistant of her own momentary lapse of judgment in letting Nathan have her files. “Keep an eye on him. He’s trouble.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll watch him. Besides, he’s only trouble for you. You know he’s got a huge crush on you, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m not interested in dating the boss’s son.”

She saw the look Missy sent down the hall in the direction of Nathan’s office. “Yeah, what girl would ever want to be seen with that guy?”

Abbie’s eyes rounded in surprise. “You’ve got a thing for Nathan?”

“Shhhhh. That’s not for public consumption.”

“Oh, sorry.” Abbie leaned in and whispered. “Good luck, Missy. I think he’d be a great catch for the right girl. I’m just not that girl.”

Ten minutes later, Abbie strode across the ground floor lobby of the Winters & Winters building, her heels clicking against the polished marble as she made her way to the exit. The buzz of her colleagues still lingered in her ears—hushed congratulations, proud nods, and the lingering glow of her courtroom victory. She had everything she’d ever worked for within reach. The partnership was all but official now, and her name would soon be etched onto the glass doors of the firm she’d poured her blood, sweat, and ambition into.

But as she stepped outside into the crisp evening air, the weight of her success felt strangely hollow. The adrenaline that had powered her through the trial was gone, replaced by a knot in her stomach she couldn’t quite shake. The city moved around her with its usual electric rhythm, but tonight, Manhattan, her kingdom, felt out of sync.

She hailed a cab, sliding into the backseat and giving her driver her address in clipped tones. The car merged into the rush-hour chaos and she took a moment to lean back against the worn seat and let her mind wander. Her phone buzzed in her bag. She didn’t even bother to respond. Whatever it was, her colleagues would handle it.

Her thoughts drifted instead to the call she’d made earlier to her grandfather. His voice had been warm but weary, carrying the kind of quiet resolve that only came from years of hard work and dealing with life’s struggles on the ranch. She’d heard it the moment he answered, the subtle crack in his tone that told her he was carrying more than he wanted to admit.

And now, on top of it all, there was Teddy’s unsolicited offer to buy the property. That didn’t make sense.

The cab came to a jerking stop outside her brownstone, and Abbie climbed out. Inside, the quiet of her apartment greeted her like an old friend. The sleek, minimalist decor—white walls, glass surfaces, a pop of color in a modern art piece above the sofa—usually felt like an oasis after the chaos of the city. But tonight, it felt cold and a bit impersonal.

She dropped her briefcase on the table by the door and kicked off her heels, wincing as her sore feet met the cool hardwood floor. At the small wet bar, she poured herself a splash of bourbon and leaned against the counter, slowly sipping while she stared out the window at the city lights below. At times like this, she felt much older than her thirty-one years.

Not one to indulge in self-reflection too long, Abbie grabbed her suitcase from the second bedroom closet and hauled it back to her room and onto the bed. She began throwing clothes into it with methodical precision—jeans, boots, a few blouses, lots of T-shirts—trying to focus on the task at hand rather than the knot of uncertainty twisting in her gut.

Cosmetics, minimal hair products, undies, pj’s, all in the bag. When she was finished, she zipped the suitcase and lifted it off the bed to place it by her bedroom door. She caught her reflection in the mirror above her dresser. The woman staring back at her looked polished, composed, every inch the rising star of Winters & Winters. But beneath the carefully crafted exterior, she felt untethered, unsure, unbalanced.

For the first time in years, Abigail Carter didn’t have a plan. All she had was a loaded suitcase, a first-class plane ticket, and a need to fix what was broken.

Broken.

Was she? Broken? This afternoon’s scene with Nathan flickered unbidden into her mind, his polished smile and practiced charm a sharp contrast to her grandfather’s rugged sincerity and the guys she grew up with like Teddy.

Once, during an office-wide group networking exercise, Nathan had been asked to describe her. Ambitious, driven, even intimidating, he’d said. And maybe he hadn’t been wrong. As a lawyer, those were the kind attributes she admired. But she knew without a doubt, that Nathan had never seen her—not really. None of her colleagues knew the real Abbie Carter. They saw the polished version of her that fit neatly into this carefully curated life.

She was not the right girl for Nathan, but the question that gnawed at her now was whether she was the right girl for anyone. Could any man handle her sharp edges, her relentless need to fix things? Or would she always be too much—too demanding, too ambitious, too—everything? Would anyone feel comfortable enough around her to stick around long enough to know the real Abbie?

Her chest tightened at the thought, and she pushed it aside, pushing her luggage down the hall toward the front door. This wasn’t the time for self-pity. She had bigger things to worry about. Like getting to the ranch before her grandfather made any decisions he couldn’t take back. And maybe, just maybe, she thought as she glanced at her packed bag, she’d find some answers about her own decisions along the way.