“Ember!” he called.
The wind whisked his voice away, and he grabbed a rifle from the rack at the back of his cab and slammed the door shut. Where was she?
He hooked a boot up on his truck’s bumper and stood up straight, getting a higher view over the terrain. From that vantage point, he could make out the slope of the land going down toward the river. He looked in both directions.
Harper Creek was west from here, and Casey shaded his eyes as he looked in that direction. He could make out some movement down by the water farther down the river. A flash of purple, and relief flooded over him. She was fine. He’d been worried for nothing—and that forty-minute drive was for nothing, too. He had work of his own to do and a teen babysitter doing overtime so that he could come out here and make sure she was okay. He should be piping mad.
What did it say that he was this glad to see her again when fetching her was such a wild inconvenience?
Chapter Nine
Ember sank lower on her haunches, holding her breath as the beaver swam silently closer, dark shining eyes looking at her above the water.
The narrow creek that led off the river had been dammed up by the animals, and she’d been watching them for some time now.
Beaver Creek—that had been one of the creeks, hadn’t it? There was no saying this was the same creek because beavers could certainly move locations, but she couldn’t help but wonder...
She was looking for proof, and she likely would never find it. But what would be proof enough for her to buy this land? How much did she need to be certain of the purchase in her own heart, even if not in her head?
“Ember!”
Ember startled. The beavers all disappeared with soft plops as they skirted beneath the water, and she twisted to look behind her. She knew that voice, and then Casey was marching through the brush toward her, a gun over one shoulder and his eyes blazing in annoyance.
“Casey—” She pushed herself to her feet.
“What are you doing out here?” He stopped to scan the brush and trees, that glittering gaze coming back to land on her.
“What am I doing?” Her own annoyance was rising now. “I’m looking at the land I’d like to buy. I’m trying to get a closer look at Milk River. That is why I’m on this ranch to begin with, isn’t it?”
“No, that much is understood,” he retorted. “The part I have trouble with is that you’ve been gone for almost six hours now.”
“I drove up the road farther, came back, looked around on both sides of the river and discovered the beavers here. I’ve been...busy.”
“You should have let me drive you,” he said. “You crossed the river?” He closed his eyes, seeming to be looking for some calm.
Let him drive her? No, that was the exact thing she’d been avoiding. Instead, she’d had time alone—a precious, silent commune with her Maker. And she’d had some time to pull herself back together. Being thrust into the company of strangers as she navigated newborn babies, a ranch and her own ambitions left very little time for her to sort out her own feelings. She was the kind of person who needed solitude for that.
“I didn’t want company,” she replied honestly. “I needed to be alone for a while.”
Casey’s annoyance seemed to slip, and he dropped his gaze, glaring down at his boots for a few beats before he looked to the side, his dark gaze moving over the trees and toward the burbling creek. She’d offended him, and that wasn’t her intention, either. It wasn’t his fault she’d been a weepy mess.
“I’m embarrassed, Casey,” she said tightly, “if I have to spell it out for you. I said too much last night. None of that was your business, and I—I should have kept my mouth shut and I’m regretting that.”
“Regretting having opened up,” he clarified, that intense gaze snapping back to her face once more.
“Yes.”
“Thanks.” His tone was dry.
“You think last night was appropriate?” she asked with a short laugh. “Because it wasn’t! You asked me a question professionally, and I...I totally crossed lines there. My history, my personal issues—none of those matter. They’re mine to deal with. So I should be apologizing to you—”
“You aren’t my therapist!” he shot back, cutting off her words. “Do you see a counseling office out here?”
“Isn’t that the point?” she retorted. “To have an inviting environment? Apparently, it works rather well on me, too.”
“You aren’t my therapist, Ember,” he repeated. This time, his voice was a low rumble. “Let’s keep that clear. I don’t need a therapist, nor do I want one. When I talk to you—if I open up—it isn’t about professional boundaries.”
“You asked me as a professional,” she countered.
“Okay, I did—” He shook his head. “Once. I phrased it badly. What can I say? I’m telling you now that you can let all those boundaries go around me. You aren’t my therapist and never will be. Neither will you ever be my boss. I think I’ve been clear about that one, too. Things between us aren’t ‘professional’ because I haven’t hired you and you haven’t hired me. You opened up because you felt safe enough to do it. So quit running away up your ivory tower.”
“I’m not running away,” she responded, turning back toward the creek. “I’m taking care of my own business.”
“Well, your safety is my business,” he shot back. “And I had to drive forty minutes to come find you
