Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

The smell of coffee filled the small, cozy kitchen of her family’s old farmhouse, a scent so familiar it almost made Abbie forget why she was here. Almost. The late afternoon sun streamed through the window, casting warm golden light across the room and highlighting every scratch and stain on the well-worn table that bore the marks of decades of family meals, conversations, and quiet moments of solitude. It should have felt comforting. Instead, it felt like a reminder of everything that was slipping through her fingers.

Abbie Carter set the steaming cups of coffee on the kitchen table, her hand brushing past Beau’s as she slid his cup toward him. She ignored the way her pulse quickened at the brief contact and took her seat across from him. Her grandfather sat at the head of the table, his tired eyes flicking between the two of them, missing nothing.

Beau sat back in his chair, his large frame filling the space in a way that made Abbie hyperaware of his presence. She hated how attuned she was to every little movement he made, from the casual way he rested an arm along the back of his chair to the slow, deliberate way he sipped his coffee. She busied herself by stirring her own cup, the clink of her spoon against the ceramic a poor mask for her restless energy.

“So,” Beau began, setting his mug down with a soft clunk, “I had an interesting chat with Teddy Van Meter this morning.”

Abbie frowned, her spoon hovering mid-stir. She didn’t have to look at Beau to feel his eyes on her, gauging her reaction. Her grandfather leaned forward slightly, his bushy brows knitting together. “What did that slick talker have to say for himself?”

Abbie looked up to see that Beau’s expression remained neutral, but his jaw tightened slightly. “He claimed he made an offer on the ranch—well above market value, according to him. Said he was just being generous, looking out for an old family friend.”

Her grandfather snorted so hard his coffee almost sloshed out of his cup. “Old family friend? What a load of horse manure. That boy wouldn’t know the meaning of generosity if it bit him in the backside.”

Abbie’s lips twitched, but she kept her expression neutral. “So, you wouldn’t exactly call him a close friend?” she asked, tilting her head in mock curiosity.

“Close friend?” Mr. Carter scoffed. “I barely exchanged a handful of words with that boy in my life. His family owned some land a couple counties over when he was growing up. Came to a few auctions, but that’s about the extent of it. He was a young pup who liked to flash his daddy’s money around, and from what I hear, not much has changed.”

Beau leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his sharp blue eyes locked on Mr. Carter. “Why do you think he’s so interested in the ranch now?”

“Because he’s got an angle,” Mr. Carter said without hesitation. “I don’t know what it is, but I’d bet my best horse it ain’t for sentimental reasons.”

Before Beau could respond, one of the ranch hands poked his head in through the doorway, hat in hand. “Mr. Carter, we’ve got an issue with the east pasture. Couple of the mares broke through the fence again.”

“Damn it,” Mr. Carter muttered, pushing himself up from the table. “I swear those mares are smarter than most folks I know. Probably did it just to get into the neighbor’s clover.” He shot a glance at Beau and Abbie. “You two keep talking. I’ll be back once I’ve sorted this out.”

As soon as her grandfather left the room, an uneasy silence settled between them. Abbie busied herself by taking another sip of her coffee, but she could feel Beau watching her, the weight of his gaze made her look out the kitchen window pretending to be interested in what her grandfather was doing.

“So,” Beau said, his tone casual but with an edge that made her stomach tighten, “Teddy didn’t just talk about the ranch. He mentioned you too.”

Abbie’s hand froze midair, her cup hovering just shy of her lips. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Beau said, leaning back in his chair. “He made it a point to mention how ‘close’ the two of you used to be. Said it with a little too much emphasis if you ask me.”

Abbie set her cup down with more force than she intended, the clatter loud in the quiet kitchen. “Of course, he did,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “It was nothing serious.”

Beau raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a way that made her want to wipe it off his face. She just didn’t know if she wanted to slap it off or kiss it off.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, sweetheart.”

Now she knew and she flexed her hand just to be ready. “Don’t call me sweetheart ,” she shot back automatically, though her cheeks flushed. “And I’m not explaining myself. I’m clarifying, so you don’t get the wrong idea.”

“Trust me,” Beau said, his grin widening, “I didn’t get the wrong idea. Teddy’s not your type.”

“Oh really?” Abbie snapped, her eyes narrowing. “And what exactly do you think my type is?”

Beau shrugged, but the playful glint in his eyes told her he was enjoying this far too much. “Not him. Too polished, too smug. You’d eat him alive.”

Abbie’s cheeks burned, but she refused to back down. “And you think you know me well enough to make that call?”

“I think I know enough,” Beau said, his voice dropping just a notch, enough to make her pulse quicken. “I’ve seen the way you handle yourself. You don’t suffer fools lightly. Teddy strikes me as the kind of guy who’d wilt the second you challenged him.”

Abbie opened her mouth to retort, but the words caught in her throat. She hated how perceptive Beau was, how easily he could see through her. And she hated even more that he was right. Teddy had always been more talk than action, and she’d grown bored of him long before he’d grown bored of her.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered instead, turning her gaze to the window.

“Maybe,” Beau said, the amusement in his voice undeniable, “but I’m not wrong.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the tension between them humming like a live wire. Abbie could feel it, the pull, the heat that seemed to build whenever they were in the same room. She hated it almost as much as she craved it.

Finally, Beau broke the silence. “Look, I don’t trust Teddy, and I don’t think you should either. Something about him doesn’t sit right with me.”

“I don’t trust him either,” Abbie admitted, surprising herself with her honesty. “But I don’t know what his angle is. Why would he want to own our ranch? He’s not a rancher type.”

“He did say he had wealthy clients who were interested in investment properties, but I don’t think that’s it. I mean who is going to offer more than a piece of property is worth? Not a very sound investment to me unless there’s something we don’t know,” Beau said, standing and draining the last of his coffee. “We’ll figure it out. Between the two of us, we’ve got a leg up on the competition.”

Abbie looked up at him, her breath catching slightly at the determination in his eyes. “The two of us?” she repeated, her voice softer than she intended.

“Yeah,” Beau said, his tone serious now. “I sense you operate a lot on instincts and so do I. I think between the two of us, we’ll figure this whole thing out.” She thought he didn’t like people in his business, or at least he didn’t like women in his business. Maybe she’d misjudged him.

For a moment, Abbie didn’t know what to say. She just nodded, her throat tight with unspoken emotions. As Beau turned to leave, she felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. Relief that he was giving her space, and disappointment that he wasn’t staying.

“Beau,” she called out before she could stop herself.

He turned back, his hand on the doorframe, his expression unreadable. “Yeah?”

“Thanks,” she said simply, her voice barely above a whisper.

Beau’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile, and for the first time, Abbie felt like she was seeing the man beneath the sarcasm and bravado. “Don’t mention it, sweetheart.”

She didn’t even have the energy to argue with him about the nickname. As much as she hated to admit it, Beau was right. About Teddy, about the ranch, about everything. And maybe he was right about her too.

Abbie watched Beau stride out, his broad shoulders brushing the edges of the doorway like he owned the place. There was something maddening about him, something infuriatingly self-assured that made her want to claw her way past his calm exterior just to see if she could rattle him.

Abbie straightened, her jaw tightening with determination. That line of thinking couldn’t continue. She had no time for distractions, especially one as potentially lethal to her equilibrium. So, she put her mind to work, to plan ways to deflect, to distract, and to distance herself from his infuriating attitude and sexy-as-hell body.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. She’d come back to the ranch for one reason—to fix her grandfather’s financial mess and make sure he could keep the place running. That was it. A short trip, a quick resolution, and then she’d be back in Manhattan, back to the world where she was in control.

Because that was where she belonged. In control. Flying solo. Steering her own ship without anyone else getting in the way. That was how she liked it. How she needed it.

Abbie closed her eyes, willing herself to focus. A few days, tops. She’d dig into the ranch’s financials, smooth out the wrinkles, and make sure her grandfather had what he needed to keep things afloat. That was the plan. The only plan. And yet…

Detective Elliott was infuriating. Too cocky for his own good, always ready with a smirk or a smart remark designed to set her off. And yet… there was something else there, something that made it hard to dismiss him outright. She hated that she even noticed it, but she did.

The way his eyes softened when he talked to her grandfather. The way his tone shifted from teasing to serious when he thought no one else was paying attention. The way he seemed to see right through her defenses, no matter how high she tried to stack them.

It was maddening. She couldn’t afford to lose focus now. Not when there was so much to do, so much riding on her ability to untangle the web of financial strain her grandfather had somehow kept hidden from her.

And certainly not when there was a man like Beau Elliott lurking around, ready to poke holes in her carefully constructed armor with a single look.

She set her coffee cup down with more force than necessary, the ceramic clinking against the tabletop. No. She wasn’t going to let herself be distracted. She’d dealt with tougher situations before, harder battles, and she’d come out on top every time.

Beau might have a knack getting her attention, but that was as far as it went. He was a distraction and nothing more. All she had to do was keep her mind on her grandfather’s problems until she could leave, and she was very experienced at keeping men away from her heart.