I take another sip of wine, Tyson refilling my glass without a word, the liquid mercy I’m too worn down to refuse.

His eyes dance with amusement, observing me. “Drink up, Miss Steel. You’re too tense.”

I glance down at the half-empty glass, my head already feeling lighter than it should. Is he pushing the wine because he wants to loosen me up? Or because he hopes to get me into bed?

Either way, I will keep my wits about me. Because Tyson McRae does nothing without an agenda. And right now, I’m pretty damn sure I’m at the center of his plan.

Dinner ends with a lingering tension, one I can’t quite shake as I push my chair back and reach for my purse. He stands first, ever the gentleman, offering his hand to help me up.

Outside, the night air is thick and warm, wrapping around me like a heavy blanket. Tyson McRae walks beside me, his hand resting at the small of my back as we step onto the sidewalk. The intimate touch sends a ripple of unease through me, but I don’t pull away. Not yet.

“Please allow me to walk you to your car.”

“Thank you, but I didn’t drive tonight. Knew we’d be having drinks.”

Tyson stops, brows lifting in mild surprise before his lips curve into that same confident smile he’s been wearing all night. “I’m happy to give you a ride home.”

I hold up my phone, flashing the screen. “Already requested an Uber. Two minutes away.”

His gaze flickers to the phone before returning to me, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Efficient as always.”

The soft glow of the streetlights casts long shadows between us. I sense him watching me. And then he steps closer—too close—his voice dropping to something silkier, more intimate.

“You’re beautiful tonight,” he says, his eyes trailing over my face.

I shift my weight, instinct screaming at me to put more space between us.

“Thank you.” Now is the perfect time for me to make things clear. “But just so there’s no confusion… this is a business relationship. I’m not looking for anything. Building my business is my entire focus, and I don’t have the time for anything else.”

His grin doesn’t falter. If anything, it deepens. Like he expected my rejection. Like he enjoys the challenge.

“I’m a very patient man, Magnolia.”

Not Miss Steel, but Magnolia. Too intimate. Too presumptuous. He’s trying to step into a space that isn’t his—and he won’t find a welcome waiting for him.

Before I can respond, headlights sweep across the sidewalk, and I spot my Uber pulling up to the curb. Relief floods me like a tidal wave, and I take another step back.

I lift a hand toward the approaching car. “That’s my ride.”