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Maggie pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I just—”

“Lemme guess. You just got back from Hottie McCowboy’s house and forgot?”

Maggie blew out a full breath. Jill had her number.

“Listen. I don’t care what’s going on with you and the CEO cowboy. I just want you to take care of yourself. Do you remember the promise we made to each other?”

Maggie’s chest clenched tightly, and heat built behind her eyes. “Yeah, but we were twenty when we made it.”

“So, you’re considering giving up what you’ve built for a guy.” It wasn’t a question.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Sorry if I’m not being the best version of myself; I’m tired from waiting up all night so I could do my job from here. I miss my friend, and if I’m being honest, I don’t recognize her much these days.”

“I’m here, Jill. I’m still here.”

“Exactly.”

Maggie frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re still there, in Deer Creek starting up a relationship with a guy who has his roots planted pretty deep in Austin soil.”

Maggie’s lip quivered. “And? What does Bennett have to do with this?”

“You’re really gonna stand there and pretend that you aren’t staying there?”

Maggie didn’t have anything to say to that. Because she was.

“Like I said, it’s not—”

“That simple. I get it. At least you’re admitting that you’re staying. But my job is in San Antonio. Or it was, at least. When were you going to tell me you weren’t coming back?”

“I wanted time to figure out if it’s what I wanted before I made the move, but Jill, I was always going to take care of you. I’d never leave you without a job.”

Jill scoffed, the noise as offensive as Gander’s shrill bark in the early mornings.

“Just no best friend. Glad to know where I stand.”

“That’s not what I meant—” Maggie tried, but Jill hung up.

“Good talk,” Maggie muttered. All she wanted to do was fix this with Jill but, per usual, every second of her day was allotted. Her friendship would have to wait.

She cracked her neck, which was tweaked thanks to her unnatural sleeping position. A glance at her watch said if she jumped in the shower now, she could get an hour of renovation before she had to meet the men at the bunkhouse for the day’s agenda after their chores. Then she’d get about an hour to clean and organize another of the rooms in her dad’s house before heading into Deer Creek for the board meeting. A full day awaited her, and she didn’t have the energy to feel sorry for herself. But a deep well of frustration and guilt pressed at her heart, squeezing it.

Somehow, Maggie endured endless questions from her ranch hands about the upcoming cattle move and a massive overhaul of her dad’s kitchen, which included discovering a few gems such as a seasoned cast iron skillet and three soup pots that made her wish they were heading into winter. Unfortunately, she also unearthed some not-so-great finds like a nest of mice in the lower cabinet and seventeen layers of dust that migrated to her sinuses.

Midway through the day, a phone call interrupted the melee that was her life at the moment. The caller ID was enough to throw all of it—her fight with Jill, her reticence about her fast-paced relationship with Bennett, renovations to her father’s home and ranch—into stark relief.

Orin Mechanics, the biggest ranching outfitter in the country. And her stiffest competition, if her small but thriving business could reach hundreds of ranches at the drop of a three-quarter-inch screw, that was.

“This is Margaret Newman,” she said. Thankfully, whoever was on the other line couldn’t see her hands shaking.

“Ms. Newman, it’s a pleasure to finally speak with you. My name is Patrick York and I’m the CEO of Orin Mechanics based out of San Antonio.”

Maggie knew the rest, but Patrick York? He was on the cover of Ranching Magazine last month. And he was calling her. She swallowed away any insecurities and put on the game face that had built a business from scraps and ingenuity.

“How can I help you, Mr. York?”