Page 8 of The Rancher's Pregnancy Surprise

He watched the conflicting emotions play across her face. Gratitude warring with suspicion. Relief battling with distrust. Most women would have been melting into a puddle of appreciation by now. Not Acacia Greenway.

That was what had caught his attention in her file. She wasn't like the others. She had backbone. And strength that came from having ice running through her veins.

He couldn't resist stepping closer, drawn by some primitive instinct he hadn't felt in a very long time. The scent of her—something light and floral with notes of vanilla—filled his sensesas he leaned down, his lips deliberately brushing against the shell of her ear.

"You're welcome, darling."

The small, almost imperceptible shiver that coursed through her sent satisfaction flooding through his veins. There it was. The chemistry he'd been looking for.

Ronan continued watching her as she boarded the bus ahead of him, appreciating the gentle sway of her hips and the curtain of red-gold hair that cascaded down her back. He'd given her enough time to settle in before following, taking his assigned seat across from hers.

It had been almost comical watching her fall asleep within minutes, her body finally surrendering to the exhaustion she'd been fighting. How long had it been since she'd properly rested? Days, most likely. Flight instincts tended to override basic needs like sleep and food.

He'd spent those quiet hours studying her. The delicate arch of her brows. The way her chest rose and fell with each breath. The vulnerability that softened her features in sleep—a stark contrast to the defensive mask she wore while awake.

And now, catching her staring at him as she woke, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of something dangerously close to possessiveness.

"Enjoying the view, darling?" he taunted, enjoying the way her eyes flashed with indignation.

Ronan knew he was being deliberately provocative. It went against every protocol in the Initiative's handbook. His job wasto observe, to facilitate her transition, to ensure she stayed in Hartland once she arrived. Nothing more.

But those rules had been written by men who hadn't met Acacia Greenway in person.

Her attempt to pay him back for the ticket amused him. As if $150 meant anything to him. As if money was what he wanted from her.

"How about we agree to call a truce," he offered instead, "and I'll consider your debt fully paid."

He watched as she put her money away, a small victory. Her willingness to talk about Hartland was another. But when he asked about the reason for her coldness, he saw the walls come up instantly. Thick, impenetrable barriers designed to keep everyone—especially men like him—at a safe distance.

It only made him more determined to breach them.

The sound of her stomach growling had been a welcome distraction. Physical needs were always easier to address than emotional ones. He'd taken his time selecting food for her, using the opportunity to observe how she responded to simple kindness. The confusion on her face told him everything he needed to know about her past relationships.

"I was wondering if I should just say it."

He'd seen the sauce at the corner of her mouth for several minutes before mentioning it, waiting for the perfect moment. When he finally reached across to wipe it away, the jolt of electricity between them confirmed what he already suspected. This wasn't just chemistry. This was something more powerful. More dangerous.

Her laugh when he asked about ice cream had been unexpected. A genuine, unguarded moment that transformed her face and sent something hot and urgent racing through his blood.

That sound. He wanted to hear it again. Wanted to be the cause of it. Wanted to discover what other sounds she might make under different circumstances...

Ronan leaned back in his seat, making a show of relaxing, but his mind was racing. The Initiative's plans for Acacia had been clear. Simple. Straightforward.

But now he was considering alternatives. Complications. Possibilities.

Hartland can wait, he thought as he watched her trying not to watch him.We have twenty-six hours ahead of us.

Twenty-six hours to learn what made her tick.

Twenty-six hours to discover her weaknesses, her desires, her fears.

Twenty-six hours to make her his.

As the bus rolled through the darkening landscape, Ronan reached for his phone and composed a quick message to the Initiative's command center:

Subject en route. ETA Laramie 11:00 tomorrow. Proceeding according to plan.

It wasn't entirely a lie. They were indeed heading to Laramie. She would indeed reach Hartland.

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