Holden heard the truck before he saw it — the low, expensive hum rolling over the dirt road like it had no business being there. He straightened from the fencepost, wiping dust from his palms against his jeans, blue eyes narrowing beneath the brim of his hat.

The sun beat down hot, glinting off the polished black paint as the vehicle crept closer, tires kicking up dust it clearly wasn’t built for. Nobody in this county drove something that shiny. Nobody he wanted to deal with, anyway.

He spat off to the side, jaw tightening once, slow and deliberate.

The truck eased to a stop in front of him. Too clean. Too quiet. Too out of place. And then the door opened — delicate, careful — revealing a woman who looked like she’d stepped straight off the cover of a magazine and onto his dirt. High-end clothes. Perfect hair. Shoes that were about to regret their life choices.

Holden’s brows dragged down, unimpressed. He’d been warned someone was coming out to “inspect the land,” but this? This is what they sent?

Hell.

He took one step forward, boots crunching in the dry gravel, shoulders squared in that slow, heavy way of his.

“Ma’am,” he said, voice low, thick accent curling around the word like warm molasses. “You’re a long way from anything that resembles a paved road.”

She blinked at him, clearly unused to someone greeting her with something less than a smile. Holden didn’t move. Didn’t soften. Didn’t try.

His blue gaze swept over her once — slow, assessing, not subtle — before returning to her eyes.

“You sure you’re in the right place?” he drawled. “Or’d you take a wrong turn ‘n end up on my land by accident?”

But he already knew she was in the right place. And that he was in for a long damn day.