Page 160 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

The truck hits a bump in the road and my shoulder knocks lightly into Cody’s chest. His hand catches my thigh automatically, steadying me before either of us can think better of it.

Everything in the truck goes quiet, the air changes, and his hand stays there for one suspended second too long.

My pulse trips over itself.

Cody looks down at me, green eyes dark in the passing washes of highway light, and the expression on his face does something deeply irresponsible to my nervous system.

Duke sees it in the mirror and mutters, “Oh, we are all absolutely doomed.”

“Drive the truck,” Silas says flatly.

“I am driving the truck.”

“Then do it with less commentary.”

“That’s not my brand.”

Cody’s thumb shifts once against my leg before he finally lets go.

By the time Ironwood’s gates come into view, my entire body feels too awake.

The ranch shines softly under the exterior lights, all long shadows and silvered fencing and wealth stretched beneath the moonlight. Most of the staff housing is dark already. The barns sit still against the trees.

Peaceful.

Except for the fact that the tension inside this truck could probably be weaponized by the military.

Duke parks near the main house and kills the engine. “Well, this seems healthy.”

I laugh softly under my breath and unclip my seatbelt. The second I do, Cody’s gaze drops to my mouth.

Oh, that’s a problem.

I open the truck door too quickly and climb out into the cold night before my brain fully melts out through my ears.

I should go inside.

Specifically, I should go directly to my room like a woman capable of making coherent life choices.

Instead, I stand there beside the truck while the others climb out too, and the atmosphere between all four of us tightens until it feels almost visible.

No one speaks.

Duke shuts the driver’s door slowly, Silas rounds the hood, Cody comes to stand at my side.

And suddenly I understand: Nobody wants to pretend anymore.

My heartbeat turns traitorous.

“This,” I say carefully, “feels like a very bad idea.”

Duke leans against the truck, arms crossed loosely. “Probably.”

“Yes,” Silas says. “It does.”

Cody nods. “Still here, though.”

I look at him.