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My first instinct was to rush over and ask what was wrong. My second was to crack a joke. Neither felt right.

I could have walked away. Maybe I should have. It would have been the gentlemanly thing, the decent thing, something I’d seen in movies but never really believed in. Instead, I hovered for a second, watching her shoulders shudder with each barely-contained breath, and decided to do something I’d never done before. I didn’t say anything. For possibly the first time in my adult life, I kept my mouth shut.

There were only a few things in this world capable of silencing me, and apparently one of them was finding the CEO of a Fortune 500 company—the same unflappable woman who once eviscerated a hostile analyst on live TV with a smile—curled up in a dark corner of the barn, gasping for air like she’d just sprinted a mile uphill.

I sat down next to her. Not close enough to touch—she was a cat with all her fur standing on end—but not so far she could pretend I wasn’t there. I kept my eyes fixed on the dirt, tracing the path of an ant that wandered dangerously within reach of her designer shoes.

For a while, neither of us spoke. Which was impressive, considering silence and I had never been particularly close. Her breathing was still uneven, but gradually it slowed.

I wanted to ask who the couple was.

What they'd said.

Why she looked like someone had reached into her chest and squeezed.

But Mikayla didn't like being cornered.

And whatever had happened, she didn't owe me an explanation.

Eventually, she broke the silence.

“Don't you have a crowd to entertain?”

“Probably.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Better company.”

She gave a humorless laugh. “I'm hardly good company right now.”

“Are you kidding? You're the first woman all day who hasn't tried to cheat me at cards or marry me for my body.”

Her head turned. “Someone tried to marry you for your body?”

“Mrs. Jenson. I'm considering it. She's got a lake house and excellent upper-body strength.”

Despite herself, Mikayla laughed. It was small. Barely there. But it was real.

And damn if it didn't feel better than every laugh I'd gotten all afternoon.

“You're ridiculous,” she muttered.

“I've been called worse.”

“By me,” she confirmed.

“Frequently. And with impressive creativity.”

She shook her head, wiping beneath her eyes. I pretended not to notice.

“You don't have to stay,” she said after a moment.

“Good.”

She frowned. “Good?”

“Takes the pressure off.”