Updated Apr 12, 2026 • ~8 min read
Chapter 15: Cedar Ridge Talks
Quinn
The town of Cedar Ridge doesn’t know what to make of Quinn Fitzgerald staying at the Hartford ranch and working WITH Cole instead of against him.
Quinn knows this because she hears the whispers when she walks into The Grind on day three of her leave of absence, Cole beside her, both of them there for coffee and to pick up breakfast before heading to the project site for surveys.
Betty Henderson—who refused Quinn service two weeks ago—stares at them like they’ve grown second heads.
“Two coffees,” Cole says pleasantly. “Black for me, oat milk latte for Quinn.”
“You’re—” Betty looks between them. “Together?”
“We’re working together on a revised environmental plan for the development,” Quinn says, which is technically true and also completely inadequate to explain what they actually are.
“Huh.” Betty makes the coffees, still looking suspicious. “Town’s talking, you know. About you two being trapped together. About her staying at the ranch.”
“I’m sure they are,” Cole says mildly.
“Some folks think she’s compromised you. Got you to abandon the project that would’ve brought jobs to Cedar Ridge.”
“Some folks don’t have all the information,” Quinn says before Cole can respond. “The revised plan still brings jobs—construction jobs, ongoing maintenance, economic development. But it does it in a way that doesn’t destroy the wetlands that protect this town from flooding.”
Betty pauses mid-pour. “Flooding?”
“The wetlands act as natural flood control. Remove them, and when spring runoff happens, Cedar Ridge floods. Main Street, residential areas, everything.” Quinn pulls out her phone, shows Betty the hydrology maps she’s been working on. “See this? Water flow patterns. Current wetlands absorb and distribute the water safely. Remove them, and all that water goes straight through town.”
Betty studies the maps, frowning. “Why didn’t anyone mention this before?”
“Because the original environmental impact statement buried it in technical jargon about hydrological services and ecosystem functions. Nobody explained it in terms of ‘your town will flood.'” Quinn tucks her phone away. “That’s on us—on environmental advocates—for not communicating the actual human impact clearly.”
“So you’re saying—” Betty hands over the coffees. “You’re saying this new plan protects the town AND creates jobs?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Betty considers this, then makes a decision visible on her face. “Coffee’s on the house. Both of you. Consider it an apology for being hostile when you first got here.”
“You don’t have to—” Quinn starts, but Betty cuts her off.
“I do have to. We were unfair. Didn’t let you explain, just decided you were the enemy because you’re from Seattle.” She wipes down the counter. “If you’re really trying to find middle ground, least I can do is give you free coffee.”
It’s a small gesture, but it makes Quinn’s throat tight.
“Thank you,” she says quietly.
They take their coffee and breakfast sandwiches to the truck, and Cole’s smiling.
“What?” Quinn asks.
“You won over Betty Henderson. That’s a significant achievement. She holds grudges for decades.”
“I didn’t win her over, I explained basic hydrology.”
“Same thing in Cedar Ridge.” He leans over, kisses her quickly. “You’re good at this. The education part. Helping people understand why environmental protection matters to them personally.”
“It’s what I should’ve been doing from the start instead of just serving papers and threatening lawsuits.”
They drive to the project site where an environmental consultant Quinn knows from Seattle is meeting them—Marcus Chen, hydrologist, willing to expedite the assessment because Quinn called in a favor and also because the project genuinely interests him.
“This is good work,” Marcus says after three hours of surveying, taking measurements, analyzing soil samples. “If you implement the mitigation strategies Quinn outlined—the buffer zones, the green infrastructure, the modified footprint—this could actually enhance the wetland functions instead of destroying them.”
“Enhance?” Cole looks skeptical. “How does building houses enhance wetlands?”
“Because right now there’s some degradation from agricultural runoff and invasive species. Your development can include restoration of those degraded areas, removal of invasives, establishment of native plants. Net result is healthier overall ecosystem than current state.”
“So we’re not just minimizing harm,” Quinn says slowly, understanding. “We’re actually improving environmental outcomes.”
“Exactly. This could be a model for sustainable development—economic growth that enhances rather than destroys ecological systems.” Marcus packs up his equipment. “I’ll have the formal assessment report to you in a week. But preliminary finding is this plan is not just acceptable from an environmental standpoint, it’s actually optimal.”
After Marcus leaves, Cole pulls Quinn into a hug, lifting her off the ground. “We did it. We actually found a solution that works.”
“We found a solution that works environmentally and economically. Still need your investors to approve and my firm to drop the lawsuit.”
“Don’t ruin the moment with practicality.”
“Practicality is literally my job.”
“Your job for the next three weeks is being wildly optimistic with me about this impossible plan we’ve created.”
Quinn laughs, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Okay. Three weeks of wild optimism. I can do that.”
He kisses her there in the middle of the project site, surrounded by wetlands they’re trying to save and the future they’re trying to build, and Quinn thinks that maybe this is what she’s been missing her entire career—the ability to work WITH people instead of against them, to find solutions instead of just fighting battles, to build something instead of just protecting what exists.
They spend the rest of the week refining the plan—meeting with Cole’s architect to redesign the house layout, working with Margaret who has surprisingly strong opinions about sustainable landscaping, presenting to the town council who are cautiously supportive once they understand the flooding risk.
And every night, Quinn falls asleep in Cole’s bed at the ranch, wrapped in his arms, feeling more at home than she’s ever felt in her Seattle apartment.
“I could get used to this,” she admits one night, both of them tangled together post-sex, sated and warm.
“Used to what? Mind-blowing orgasms with a Montana rancher?”
“That. Also the ranch life. The community. The feeling like I’m actually making a difference instead of just enforcing regulations.”
Cole goes still. “Are you saying you’re considering staying? Beyond the month?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. If—if this works. If we can actually pull off this compromise and if your investors approve and if my firm doesn’t completely destroy me professionally for taking their side.” She traces patterns on his chest. “I’m trying not to plan too far ahead. But I’m also trying not to close doors that might lead somewhere good.”
“Somewhere good meaning Montana.”
“Somewhere good meaning here. With you. Building something together instead of fighting on opposite sides.”
Cole rolls them over so he’s bracing above her, looking down with an intensity that makes Quinn’s breath catch.
“I want that,” he says. “I want you here, working with me, building a life together. I want Sunday mornings at the ranch and fighting about environmental policy and you teaching people about hydrology. I want all of it, Quinn. For longer than a month.”
“We’ve known each other two weeks—”
“Doesn’t matter. I know what I want and I want you.”
“That’s terrifyingly romantic and also slightly irrational—”
“Most of life is irrational. Might as well be irrational about something that makes me happy.”
Quinn pulls him down to kiss him, pouring everything she feels into it—all the fear and hope and the terrifying possibility that maybe she could actually have this, actually build a life in Montana with a man she’s known for two weeks but loves like she’s known him for years.
“Ask me again in a month,” she whispers against his mouth. “When we know if the plan works. When we know if this is real or just really intense cabin-fever-plus-proximity.”
“It’s real,” Cole says with absolute certainty.
“Ask me anyway.”
“Okay. I’ll ask you in a month.”
And Quinn falls asleep thinking about what her answer might be, knowing that for the first time in her adult life, she’s actually considering a future that isn’t carefully planned and controlled and safe.
A future that’s terrifying and beautiful and completely unexpected.
A future with Cole Hartford in Montana.
And the scary part is how much she wants it.
Reader Reactions