Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35372 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35372 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Ranchers' wives catching up in the bleachers while their husbands do that thing where they bid with nothing more than a lifted chin. Three thousand head moving through in a day. Kids running between the pens. Cinnamon rolls from the concession stand that taste like they were made in 1987 and never updated the recipe.
I used to love it.
Used to beg Mama to let me tag along even on school nights, just to sit in those rickety metal bleachers and watch the whole county's business play out under the harsh fluorescents. The auction was real Montana—not the filtered version Eleanor staged for Instagram.
I'd slip away from her camera lens, tuck myself between weather-worn ranchers and their wives, and memorize the cadence of commerce. The subtle nod that meant five thousand dollars changing hands. The half-wink that sealed bloodlines and futures.
But… "I'm not ready for that yet, Cash. Maybe next time."
Cash just nods. No argument or push. He knows what "that" means and it's not the auction.
I'm not ready for the whispers. All the gossip that comes with burning down your reputation.
In public.
On purpose.
For a man.
And not just any man, either.
The larger public has no idea who Legion Kane is. But the people around here do. They know exactly who I was talkin' about when I made that Instagram post. Because while Legion and I never officially 'dated' as kids, we were non-stop partners in the summers.
We went everywhere and didn't care who saw us.
And it wasn't a casual kind of display of togetherness, either. It was the two of us riding double. On a horse, on a dirt bike. We were together, always.
I never paid much attention to what the locals said about me back then. Not because I was indifferent, not because I'm immune to it, either.
I just wasn't around.
My life has always been separate and apart from everyone in this area. Private schools, a ranch so big, you could literally get lost on it. When I was in town, I was there for a purpose. I wasn't hanging out with friends. In fact, I didn't have any friends here on the ranch.
Just Legion and my brothers. The ranch hands count, I suppose. And the house staff.
But I have never been 'one of the locals'.
"I have no idea what to even say to them, Cash."
He's still lookin' at me. That same unbothered expression. "It's fine, Savannah. I just wanted to ask so you don't feel left out. Sometimes I feel like I'm oversteppin' you a bit around here."
I nearly laugh. "Why would you feel that way?"
His eyes narrow a little. "Well… it is your ranch. And I don't ask about… well, anything. I just do what I want with the estate money."
I shrug up a shoulder. "It's not like I understand this business. I'm glad you do it. And you know I'd walk away, if I could. I'd give it all to you. If I could."
His smile is real now. "I know you would."
Cash stands up and settles his Stetson back on his head, tugging it low over his eyes the way he does when he wants to hide what he's thinking. He tips the brim at me like I'm some ranch hand he's paying off rather than his sister, and leaves without another word.
The minute he's gone, I exhale so hard it might qualify as a sigh. My breakfast arrives—pancakes stacked three high with butter pooling on top, scrambled eggs flecked with herbs from the kitchen garden. The food is perfect, of course. Everything on this ranch is perfect.
It's exhausting.
I cut into the pancakes, watching the melted butter slide down the sides, thinking about Cash and his competence. His absolute dedication to this land. The way he's stepped up since Eleanor died, taking over operations like he was born to do exactly this.
Maybe because he was.
This place—with its endless green pastures that shouldn't exist in drought country, its artesian wells that never run dry, its forty-seven thousand acres of prime Montana real estate—it's in his blood.
Not mine. I've spent most of my life running from it, boarding school to college to carefully curated social media empire.
Cash deserves this ranch.
And I deserve Legion. Not because I've earned him—God knows I haven't—but because he makes me feel like someone worth becoming. With him, I'm not the Ashby Princess. Not anyone's product or property. Just... Savannah. With dirt under my nails and no filter between my thoughts and my mouth.
I take another bite, chew slowly.
It's all gonna work out. That's what I keep telling myself.
Cash gets his ranch and his legacy. I get Legion and whatever messy, beautiful life we build together. Mercy gets her fancy education. And maybe, just maybe, we can patch this family back together in some configuration that actually works.
I reach for my phone, thumb hovering over the screen for a moment before I tap the call button for the number Legion gave me last night. Destiny's number.