Chapter 37 Lost in Her Work
Fresh from the shower and dressed for comfort, Sierra descended the stairs, finding her father still asleep. Good. Time was the enemy, and she needed to make progress on the financials.
The next two days were a blur of calculated chaos. Sierra dove headfirst into the direct-to-consumer (D2C) beef program. The ranch’s expenses were crippling; their only hope was maximizing the profit margin by cutting out those taking their cut out of the middle, and selling premium cuts directly to high-end restaurants and online customers.
She enlisted Cody, who, surprisingly, proved useful, if only for the fun parts.
“Okay, so ‘Sage Ranch Premium Reserve,’” Cody mused, sketching aggressively in a lined notebook in the makeshift office Sierra had set up in the unused dining room. “I feel like we need a logo that says ‘heritage,’ but also ‘exclusive.’ Like old money, but dirt cheap.”
“It’s not dirt cheap, Cody. It’s premium,” Sierra corrected. “Focus on the story: grass-fed, ethical standards, selective breeding, Arizona sunshine. We need a clean, engaging website with high-quality photography.”
Cody’s eyes lit up. “Photography! I know a guy who does drone shots. Imagine, the cattle looking noble and slightly aristocratic in their element.”
This was her world, Sierra realized, settling back into the familiar rhythm of planning and execution. The memory of the kiss became manageable when it was confined to a small, quarantined corner of her brain. The spreadsheets, the branding, and the market analysis provided the strength to keep it there.
Ryder became a somewhat painful ghost, relegated to a different time and place.
Visible through the dusty windows whenever she glanced out of them, she saw him fixing a broken feeder near the corrals, giving instructions to the ranch hands about the rotation schedule, or saddling up a quarter horse before disappearing over the nearest ridge line.
Every time she saw the flash of his dark hair or his broad shoulders, the carefully erected walls of her control shuddered. But he never came inside the house, except for brief consultations, and when he did, he treated her with impeccable, chilling courtesy.
Their conversations were reduced to clipped logistical reports.
“The water pumps need a rebuild, Sierra. The estimate is three thousand,” he’d state, standing just inside the doorway, his eyes fixed somewhere over her left shoulder.
“Guess it's a necessary expense,” she sighed, without looking up from the monitor. She couldn’t bear looking into his eyes. “Bill it to the ranch account. I’m reviewing Q2 feed costs now.”
The tension was so thick it hummed, a low-frequency current that only they seemed aware of. Sierra found herself holding her breath whenever Ryder was near, bracing for the moment he might drop the pretense and force her to acknowledge what had happened. But he didn’t. He held the line, perfectly mirroring the professional facade she was presenting. She hated how easily he played the game, and she hated herself for playing it.
By the end of the week, the D2C plan was robust. Sierra had secured a meeting with a high-end Phoenix butcher and finalized the initial marketing strategy.
That evening, the air had cooled just enough to make the evening habitable. Sierra’s head throbbed from staring at numbers all day. She needed a moment away from the glowing screen and Cody’s relentless enthusiasm for cow-themed graphic design.
She slipped out the back door and headed toward the gazebo.
It was twilight, the time when the deep blue of the sky fades into a bruised purple, and the desert takes on a mysterious, muted glow. The cicadas were performing their symphony under an oak tree.
She relished the quiet. She sat down on the painted bench. She pulled out the summary of her presentation, but her eyes wouldn’t focus on the bullet points.
The quiet didn't last.
She heard the crunch of boots on the gravel path. She didn't need to look up. The way the air suddenly thickened, the way the tiny hairs on the back of her neck lifted, told her exactly who it was.
He stopped immediately, perhaps surprised to find her there. He was wiping sweat from his brow with the back of a gloved hand. He looked exhausted, covered in a fine layer of dust, intensely masculine, and utterly untouchable.
He leaned a shoulder against the weathered white lattice railing, keeping a respectful, yet agonizing, distance.
“Hey, Sierra,” he said, his voice low and devoid of inflection.
“Ryder,” she replied, equally cool, sliding her papers onto the bench beside her.
A silence stretched between them, heavy and weighted with every word they hadn't said over the past week.
“Cody said you’ve been running him ragged,” Ryder commented, his gaze finally meeting hers. His eyes were shadowed with fatigue, but the intensity burning underneath was still unnerving.
Sierra shrugged lightly. “We’ve been putting the direct-to-consumer project together.”
“How’s it look?”
She appreciated the genuine interest, especially after he and her father had turned down her initial attempts.
“Solid,” she said, letting her inner executive take over. “We’re branding it ‘Sage Ranch Reserve.’ Focusing on traceability and quality assurance. We can command a premium price; we just need to streamline the processing logistics and get the online storefront operational within the month. If we capture 30% of the projected market share, the ranch will hit equilibrium in eighteen months.”
She spoke quickly, letting logic and numbers shield her wandering thoughts and emotions.
Ryder nodded and took a step closer, still maintaining the buffer zone, but close enough for her to catch the scent of saddle leather and honest sweat.
“That should hold the bank at bay,” he admitted, but there was admiration in his tone. “You always were good at building things from the ground up.”
,
The compliment was unexpected and struck her with painful accuracy. She was good at building things. She just hadn’t built anything here in years.,
He looked down at his boots, then back up at her, a flicker of something raw crossing his face. Was it regret?
“When are you doing the presentation?” he asked.
“Three days. I want some solid assurances before I take it to the bank next week.”
He simply nodded again, his expression unreadable. His posture said he was about to leave.
Sierra felt a sudden, frantic wave of disappointment. An entire week of painful, meticulous avoidance, and this was it? An exchange of logistics?
“Well,” he said, taking off his hat and running his fingers through his messy hair. “It’ll be great, Si. You’ll knock them dead.”
Si? He’d never called her that before. Only her father and Cody called her that.
And then, Ryder turned away. He didn't linger. He didn't offer a small touch on the shoulder or pause to catch her gaze. He simply walked back the way he came, his silhouette dissolving into the darkening shadows.
Sierra watched him go, every muscle in her body taut with frustration.
As the sound of his retreating steps faded to silence, all she could think was that she had desperately wished he had ignored every signal she gave, stormed the gazebo, and kissed her until she couldn't remember a single line of her presentation.