Where We Call Home (Faircloud #2)

Chapter 20

Twenty

I t had been a few days since Theo moved in, and honestly, not much had changed—except now I had someone to sit with at night and watch TV.

Slow, quiet living suited us both. I wasn’t one for going out or having constant human interaction, and apparently, neither was my new roommate.

Theo had been introducing me to her favorite true crime documentaries, which was both endearing and mildly terrifying. She loved all things morbid. I was convinced that if she ever decided to kill me and bury my body, no one would ever find out.

Last night, during one of her chosen documentaries, she kept reminding me to pay attention to specific details because they’d “come back later.” One thing I’d learned: it’s never just a boating accident.

“Let’s get moving, gentlemen!” I yelled, rallying the crew from the barn. It was the start of the day, and I was in charge. Boone was off with his dad, finalizing the land deal.

It wasn’t unusual for me to play ringmaster of the circus we called Cassidy Ranch, especially lately. Something big was in the works, though I refrained from asking questions until I had reason to. I had a feeling that time was coming soon.

Four ranch hands, plus Logan, broke up their little powwow and ambled toward me, ready to get to work.

“We’ve got a few things on the agenda today,” I started, glancing over the group. “Crowley, Jacobs—you’re on fence duty. Check for any broken barbs or posts. If you find something, make note and report back.” I nodded toward them, a silent dismissal. They didn’t need to stick around for the rest of the assignments.

“Stanson,” I continued, turning to the lanky ranch hand, “you’re on stall duty.”

Stanson groaned, crossing his arms over his chest like a sulking teenager.

Next to him, Ryker tried—and failed—to stifle a laugh.

“You think that’s funny, Ryk?” I asked, raising a brow. When he didn’t reply fast enough, I added with a smirk, “Fine. You’re with him. Between the two of you, it should take half the time.”

Ryker’s grin faltered. “Yes, sir,” he drawled sarcastically, giving me a lazy salute before turning on his heel. Without further complaint, the two headed off toward the cattle barn.

“Logan, you’re with me,” I said, already moving toward the day’s project.

“Hell yeah,” Logan replied, falling into step beside me.

“Rhodes! Wait up!”

I stopped and turned to see Boone striding toward me. He wore his cowboy hat low, light-washed jeans, and a button-up with an Aztec print. A cleaned-up Boone was never a coincidence. Whatever he had to say, it wasn’t small talk.

“Go on ahead to the stalls. I’ll catch up,” I told Logan.

He tipped his hat and sauntered off, as easy going as always.

Boone reached me, clapping a hand on my shoulder as we pivoted away from any lingering ears. When we were far enough from the others, he stopped and faced me, his expression serious.

“I need to talk to you about something,” Boone said.

His tone set off a ripple of curiosity, maybe even concern. I crossed my arms, mirroring his stance. We definitely spent too much time together.

“What’s up? Everything okay?”

“Oh yeah, more than okay.” Boone’s grin was so wide it threatened to split his face. His excitement radiated off him, impossible to miss. “We got the bid. Cassidy Ranch is expanding.”

A matching grin spread across mine, and I reached out to pull him into a celebratory hug, slapping his back firmly. “That’s incredible, man. You deserve this.”

Boone stepped back, still grinning, but the shift in his tone pulled my full attention. “There’s more.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, a rare tell of nerves from my usually confident friend.

“My dad’s stepping away, fully this time. He wants me to start learning the behind-the-scenes stuff.”

I nodded, already knowing where this was headed. If anyone was ready to step into those boots, it was Boone.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Boone continued, his eyes locked on mine. “You’re the best damn ranch hand we’ve got, and I trust you. When I start focusing on the business side, I want you to take over.”

The weight of his words hit me, and for a moment, all I could do was stare at him. A year ago, this offer wouldn’t have been possible. Hell, I wouldn’t have trusted myself with it. But now? Now it felt different.

“I’d be honored,” I said, unable to keep the smile from my face.

“Good.” Boone’s grin was back in full force. “We’ve got a lot to discuss, but I know you’ll kill it.”

I nodded toward the barn, reluctant to keep Logan waiting too long. “Logan’s expecting me.”

Boone waved it off. “Just text him. Kid’s probably standing around on his phone anyway.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Laughing, I fell into step with Boone as we made our way toward the main house. He was like the Oprah of job offers—spreading good news like candy, terrible at keeping surprises, and damn near impossible not to like.

Theo

I decided to make dinner tonight. Rhodes was running later than usual, and though it had only been a few days since I moved in, I was already picking up on his routines.

He woke up between 3:30 and 4:00 every morning, showered, and made coffee like clockwork. He probably thought I slept through it, but I was a light sleeper. The sound of his boots on the floorboards and the soft clink of his coffee mug had become familiar, almost comforting.

By the time he got home around five, he was usually tired, never grouchy. I didn’t know much about what his days as a ranch hand entailed, I figured I’d learn soon enough.

Tonight, I wanted to surprise him with dinner. Cooking wasn’t exactly my strong suit. Rhodes was the one with culinary skills but I could manage parmesan-crusted chicken. It was one of the few recipes I knew, something my mom used to make when I was growing up. Simple enough that even I couldn’t mess it up.

I pulled the chicken from the fridge and set it on the counter, trying not to think too hard about how much I disliked working with raw meat. Thick cuts of chicken had become a food aversion lately—texture was an issue. Beans, too. Just thinking about them I had to hold back a gag.

After rummaging through the kitchen for a cutting board and meat mallet, I found what I needed and tried to commit their locations to memory. This wasn’t my space yet, but I wanted it to feel like it could be.

Once I’d flattened the chicken, I needed a plate. Rhodes kept his plates on the higher shelves, well out of my reach, remembering from the first time I was here.

I grabbed a chair and dragged it to the cabinet, knowing this probably wasn’t the smartest idea. Climbing up carefully, I opened the door, expecting to find plates on the third shelf. Instead, the space was empty. Leaning back slightly, I scanned the other shelves until I spotted them on a lower level.

Stepping down slowly, I pushed the chair aside and grabbed a plate.

For a moment, I paused. Why had he moved them? The thought tugged at me briefly, but I shook it off. Maybe he’d noticed me struggling to reach them before and adjusted without saying anything. That seemed like something Rhodes would do. He was a man of quiet, thoughtful gestures.

After a while, the rumble of a truck pulling into the driveway drew my attention. Through the picture window, his headlights cut through the twilight, announcing his arrival.

Perfect timing. My culinary masterpiece was nearly finished, and I had to admit it smelled incredible. If this didn’t impress him, nothing would.

The front door creaked open, and Rhodes stepped inside. His presence filled the room, even from across the house. I leaned back slightly from the stove, just enough to catch a glimpse of him.

Dusty and tired and somehow still undeniably handsome, he paused in the entryway to remove his boots. As if sensing me watching, his gaze lifted, locking onto mine.

“Something smells good,” he said, a warm smile spreading across his face.

I grinned back. “If you’re lucky, it might even taste good too.”

He wore a short-sleeved t-shirt, dark-washed jeans streaked with dirt, and his trusty cowboy boots. Easy on the eyes didn’t even begin to describe this man. The way that shirt stretched just enough across his chest to show the outline of his muscular pecs, the snug sleeves hugging his biceps— chef’s kiss . I wouldn’t mind burning that image into my memory forever.

Rhodes tossed his hat onto the entry table and kicked off his boots. As I mindlessly stirred the pot of instant mashed potatoes, he ran a hand through his hair from root to tip.

The way I wanted to undress that man—piece by piece, layer by layer—was practically feral.

Dragging his feet slightly on the wooden floor, Rhodes made his way into the kitchen.

“You’re making dinner?” he asked, opening the fridge to grab a water bottle. He cracked the lid and leaned against the counter, settling comfortably out of my way.

“Don’t sound so shocked,” I quipped, tearing my gaze from him and focusing back on the pot. If I kept staring, these mashed potatoes would turn into an inedible lump.

“I’m not,” he replied, defensive but amused. “It’s just nice that someone’s taking the time to cook a homemade meal for me.”

“When’s the last time someone cooked for you?” I asked.

Rhodes took a sip of water, pondering. “How long ago was Easter?”

That was... sad. While I’d spent years traveling the world, meeting new people, and experiencing unique cultures, Rhodes had been here—alone. The thought hit me harder than I expected.

“What did you do today?” Rhodes asked, his sharp eyes clearly catching the shift in my mood.

“Well,” I started, trying for nonchalance, “I tested out your fancy washing machine. Did some laundry, I was running low on pajamas. I put more of my stuff in the room and started sorting through the baby’s things.”

“No documentaries?”

“Well, that too, but I figured that was a given.”

Rhodes chuckled.

“By the way,” I began, unable to hold back my curiosity any longer, “did the plates move? Or am I losing it?”

“I moved them lower,” he admitted, casually leaning against the counter. “If I’m not here, you need to be able to grab one without climbing on something.”

My lips pressed together in guilt as I looked away.

“You climbed something, didn’t you?” he accused, his tone a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“In my defense,” I said quickly, holding up a hand, “I didn’t know you moved them. If I had, I wouldn’t have!”

“Theo, that’s not safe,” he said softly, his voice laced with concern. There wasn’t a hint of judgment, just genuine care, and it made my chest tighten. “What if you’d fallen and no one was here?”

Rhodes clicked his tongue and moved to grab utensils from the drawer.

“Nothing happened! I’m safe. See?” I gestured at myself and even spun in a slow circle to prove the point. “All in one piece.”

Then, with a teasing grin, I shot back, “What about you, oh Holy One, who does no wrong? What did you do today?”

Rhodes laughed, the sound low and rich, shaking his head. “Oh, I’m no saint, Honey.”

No kidding. This man could absolutely ruin me—split me in two, make me lose every shred of composure. I wouldn’t be praying to God; I’d be on my knees for Rhodes Dunn.

I bit back the reckless urge to say something equally unladylike and tried to focus on steadying my thoughts.

“Boone’s stepping away from the labor side of things and into his dad’s role,” Rhodes said, thankfully shifting the conversation.

“Wait—what?” I spun to face him as he settled at the small kitchen table.

“Boone’s dad is retiring, handing over the ranch. Boone asked me to take over as lead rancher.”

His grin was slow and steady, the kind of pride that shone brighter in his quiet confidence than in any words he could say.

“Rhodes!” I squealed, unable to contain my excitement. “That’s amazing!”

He nodded, his stupidly cute smile still firmly in place, and I felt an overwhelming urge to hug him, to kiss his cheek—anything to touch him.

“Who else knows?” I asked, curious who he’d already told.

“Just you... and Boone’s family, of course.”

Just me. I was the first person he told. The realization created a rush of warmth that spread through my chest, bubbling up like champagne ready to overflow. My lips curled into a wide, uncontrollable smile, my cheeks aching from the force of it.

“Well, then this is officially a celebratory dinner!” I declared, turning back to the stove to pull the glass dish from the oven. Trying my best to hide the ache I felt. “I hope it tastes good. If not, pizza’s on me.”

I set the dish on the counter.

“Ooo!” I spun around excitedly. “I can even make cookies! Premade, of course, not from scratch. But hey, a cookie’s a cookie.”

My cheeks ached from how much I’d been smiling, but it didn’t matter. Rhodes deserved every bit of joy tonight.

“I’m just happy I had someone to come home and share the news with,” he said softly, his sincerity cutting straight to my heart.

And I realized, in that moment, I was just as happy to be the one he came home to.