Page 64 of Broken Roads
"Especially after that," Ruthie says, surprising me. "You think I haven't noticed how you've changed over the past few weeks? How you've opened up to her ideas, started seeing beyond just the day-to-day of running this place?" She shakes her head, aknowing smile playing at her lips. "That girl challenged you, and instead of digging your heels in harder, you finally bent a little."
I hadn't thought of it that way, but she's right. Hailey pushed back against my stubbornness from day one, refusing to be intimidated or dismissed. And somewhere along the way, I saw the value in her perspective, in the fresh eyes she brought to problems I'd been staring at for so long I couldn't see solutions anymore.
"Trust yourself, Bradley," Ruthie continues. "And trust Hailey. The rest will sort itself out in time."
"Is that your way of telling me not to overthink things?" I ask, a hint of amusement creeping into my voice.
Ruthie laughs. "You've been overthinking everything since you were five years old, analyzing ant hills to figure out how they worked."
"I like to understand things."
"Some things aren't meant to be understood right away," she says, her voice softening. "They're meant to be experienced. Felt." She pats my arm again. "In the end, what's meant to be will be."
The words could sound like a platitude but coming from Ruthie they carry the weight of earned wisdom.
"Thank you, Ruthie."
She nods, then turns back to the biscuits she was wrapping, a signal that our heart-to-heart is concluding. "Now, are you going to help me finish these dishes, or are you going to stand there looking like a lost puppy all morning?"
The return to normalcy is a relief, a familiar ground after the emotional territory we've just navigated. "Yes, ma'am."
As we settle into the comfortable rhythm of cleaning up, my thoughts drift to Hailey. To the way she looked this morning in that pink dress. To the way her body felt pressed against mine inthe darkness of the kitchen. To the future stretching out before us, undefined but full of possibility.
What's meant to be will be, Ruthie said. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I hope that what's meant to be includes more than just the ranch, more than just the legacy I've been carrying. That it includes Hailey, with her spreadsheets and her brilliant ideas and the way she fits against me like she was made to be there.
Chapter 27
Hailey
The marketing photos spread across my desk like a treasure map, each image a piece of the puzzle I'm trying to solve. I pick up another printout—a family on horseback against the backdrop of Walker Ranch's mountains—and pin it to the wall. My fingers linger on the glossy paper as I step back to assess the display, mentally arranging and rearranging the campaign in my head. This is good work. Work I can be proud of. But if I'm being honest, my concentration has been shot to hell since Bradley's hands found their way under my sleep shorts.
I've spent the morning alternating between productive bursts and mind-wandering moments where I can almost feel his fingers inside me again. The memory makes me shift in place, pressing my thighs together against the persistent ache that's been building all day.
Just then the door to my office swings open with enough force that the handle bounces off the wall. I spin around, startled by the sudden intrusion, to find Bradley filling the doorframe. His hair is windblown, his cheeks flushed like he's been running orriding hard. But it's his eyes that stop me cold—dark, intense, and fixed on me with a hunger that makes my mouth go dry.
"Bradley," I start, but the rest of my sentence evaporates as he steps inside and slams the door shut behind him.
Without breaking eye contact, he grabs the wooden chair from the corner and wedges it firmly under the doorknob.
"What are you—" I try again, but he's already moving to the window. His movements are swift and purposeful as he draws the curtains closed, blocking out the afternoon sun.
My pulse thunders in my ears, blood rushing so fast I feel light-headed. I'm rooted to the spot, unable to move as I watch him turn toward me. His chest rises and falls with each deep breath, and the muscle in his jaw ticks furiously.
"I've been thinking about you all fucking day," he says, his voice so low and rough it scrapes along my nerve endings like a physical touch. "Couldn't focus on a damn thing."
He takes one step toward me, then another, each movement deliberate and controlled. I should say something clever, something to defuse the crackling tension between us, but my brain has short-circuited, leaving me only capable of watching him approach with a mixture of anticipation and need that borders on desperation.
"That dress," he continues, gaze traveling down my body then back up again, "has been driving me out of my mind since breakfast."
I glance down at the pink fabric still wrapped around my body, Tessa's fashion advice proving more effective than even she could have predicted. "I—"
His hands are on me before I can finish the thought, one curving around my waist while the other cups the back of my neck. The contrast between the gentleness of his touch and the raw need in his eyes makes my knees weak. And for one suspended moment, we just stare at each other.
Then he kisses me, and gentle is the last word I'd use to describe it. His mouth claims mine with a hunger that matches the storm building inside me. I gasp against his lips, and he takes advantage, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that makes my toes curl inside my boots. My hands find their way to his shoulders, fingers digging into the solid muscle there as I try to anchor myself against the onslaught of sensation.
I arch into him, pressing my body against the hard planes of his chest, needing more contact, more friction, more everything.
"Fuck, Hailey," he growls against my mouth as his hands slide down to my hips, gripping me tightly. "Been thinking about getting my hands on you again since you walked into breakfast wearing this." Bunching the fabric of my dress, he slowly pulls it higher. "You knew exactly what you were doing, didn't you?"
