4. Lindsay
Chapter Four
LINDSAY
One bed.
Of course, there’s only one bed.
Because, apparently, the universe has decided that my life needs to be even more complicated right now. As if keeping secrets from my best friend isn’t hard enough.
“We’ll take it,” Jace says immediately.
My head snaps up to look at him, but his expression is unreadable. There’s something almost challenging in the set of his jaw, like he’s daring the world to make this a bigger deal than it needs to be.
“Are you sure? We could?—”
“I’m sure.” His eyes meet mine for a brief moment, and something in my stomach flutters. He’s using that tone—the one that means he’s made up his mind and nothing short of an act of God is going to change it.
“Do you have maybe a rollaway cot or—” I start to ask Grace, my voice embarrassingly breathless. I can feel the tips of my ears burning. A cot would be safe. A cot would mean not having to lie next to him all night, trying not to remember how many times I’ve dreamed about exactly that.
But Jace cuts me off smoothly. “We’ll make it work,” he tells Grace, already reaching for his wallet. “Thank you for accommodating us on such short notice.”
My mind is racing with the implications of his words.
We’ll make it work.
What does that even mean? Is he planning to sleep on the floor? Is he expecting me to? Or does he really think we can share a bed like it’s nothing, like we’re still the same people we were before I started noticing the way his shirts stretch across his shoulders or how his voice gets all gravelly when he’s tired?
Grace is already pulling out registration forms, her pen scratching against the paper.
“Room 12, up the stairs and to the right. There’s extra blankets in the closet, and the bathroom’s fully stocked.” She slides an old brass key across the desk. “Dinner’s at six in the main dining room, but we’ve got soup and sandwiches in the kitchen if you’re hungry now.”
“Some soup would be great, actually,” Jace says, glancing at me. “You haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
The fact that he noticed, that he’s been keeping track—it does something to my chest that I really don’t want to examine right now.
“I’m fine, I?—“
“Lindsay.” He gives me that look. “You get hangry. Remember the Jensen contract meeting?”
Despite everything, I feel my lips twitch. “That wasn’t hunger, that was justified irritation at their ridiculous demands.”
“Uh-huh.” His eyes are twinkling now. “And I’m sure it had nothing to do with skipping lunch.”
I reach for my wallet, desperate to change the subject before I do something stupid like tell him how sexy he is when he’s being overprotective.
But Jace beats me to it, pulling out his credit card. “I got this.”
“Jace—”
“Lindsay.” There’s something in his voice that makes me pause, something that makes the air between us feel suddenly thick with possibility. “Let me take care of it. Please.”
The please undoes me, like he probably knew it would. I’ve heard him say that word a thousand times—please pass the coffee, please help me with this spreadsheet, please come to the New Year’s party—but never quite like this. Never with this edge of something I’m afraid to name.
While he handles the payment, I pretend to be fascinated by the collection of old ranch photographs on the wall. They’re beautiful, actually—sepia-toned snapshots of life on the Circle J through the decades. Anything to avoid thinking about how this night is going to play out. About how I’m going to lie next to him and keep all my secrets—about my dad, about my feelings, about everything—when he’s close enough to touch.
“All set,” Jace says, appearing at my elbow with our bags.
He’s standing closer than strictly necessary, and I catch a whiff of his cologne mixed with leather and cold air. It’s not fair that he can smell this good after hours in a truck and a trek through a snowstorm.
“These are pretty incredible photos,” he adds, nodding at the wall. “Look at this one—must be from the first cattle drive through the valley.”
I lean in to see where he’s pointing, trying to ignore how his proximity makes my skin tingle. “The composition is amazing. We should do something like this for the welcome center too.”
“Already thinking about work?” His voice is teasing, but there’s warmth there too. Understanding. He knows how much the ranch’s history means to me, how passionate I am about preserving it. It’s one of the countless reasons why being just friends is getting harder every day.
I take a deep breath and reach for the key. “Well, I guess we should?—”
“Oh!” Grace calls after us as we head for the stairs. “I forgot to mention. The heat’s been acting up in that wing of the house. Maintenance is coming tomorrow, but for tonight...” She gives us an apologetic smile that doesn’t quite hide the twinkle in her eyes. “Just thought you should know.”
Jace’s hand finds the small of my back as we climb the stairs, steady and warm through my sweater.
It’s a casual touch, the kind of thing he’s done a hundred times before. A gesture that says I’ve got you, I’m here, trust me. But now, knowing we’re about to share a room—a bed—it feels different. Everything feels different.
And we’ve still got hours until bedtime.
After Grace’s revelation about the heat, we made a detour to the kitchen.
Despite my protests, Jace insisted we eat something, and I have to admit—not out loud, of course—that he was right. Grace’s homemade tomato soup and thick-cut sandwiches were exactly what we needed. It’s hard to maintain anxiety on a full stomach, even if watching Jace roll up his sleeves to eat created a whole different kind of tension.
Now, following him down the hallway to our room, I feel marginally better.
At least about the hunger part.
The rest of my nerves are still very much present, doing a complicated dance in my stomach as Jace unlocks our door.
The room is... cozy. That’s the polite word for small, right? A queen-sized bed takes up most of the space, topped with a handmade quilt in shades of blue and cream. There’s a wooden dresser, a small sitting area with a worn leather armchair, and—thank god—a decent-sized bathroom.
The window looks out over snow-covered pastures that are rapidly disappearing in the growing storm.
“Home sweet home,” Jace says, dropping our bags by the dresser. He seems so calm about all of this, like sharing a tiny room with me is no big deal. Like the sight of that single bed isn’t making his heart race the way mine is.
I watch, trying not to be obvious about it, as he shrugs out of his coat.
His henley pulls tight across his shoulders with the movement, and I have to look away. But then he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in that way that makes him look unfairly attractive, and I’m staring again.
My phone buzzes, interrupting my spiral. It’s a text from my dad:
“Looking forward to seeing you, sweetpea. Still good for New Year’s eve?”
I look up to find Jace watching me with an expression I’ve never seen before. “So what’s his name?”
I blink at him. “Who?”
“The guy.” He’s trying to sound casual, but I know him too well. “The one you’re meeting on New Year’s Eve. The one you’ve been texting all day.”
“There’s no guy, Jace.”
He holds up his hands. “I get it. You don’t have to tell me.” His jaw tightens. “I just thought... I thought we were close enough that you’d tell me if you were seeing someone.”
I swallow hard. “I’m not seeing anyone.”
Jace quirks a brow at me. “You sure? Because every time your phone goes off, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“It’s…it’s just…” My heart is pounding so hard I can barely hear over it. “I’ve been texting my dad.”
Jace’s eyebrows shoot up. “Your dad?” He takes a step closer. “I thought you said you never knew your dad.”
“I know I did.” My voice is barely a whisper. “I lied.”
“Lindsay.” The word is soft, gentle in a way that makes my chest ache. “What’s going on?”
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold it together. But after years of carrying this weight alone—except for Rachel and Jasmyn—I want someone else to know. I want him to know.
“My dad’s been in prison for the last ten years.” The words feel like they’re being pulled from somewhere deep inside me. “He just got out a few days ago.”
Understanding dawns on Jace’s face as he takes in my words. I can see him piecing it together - my nerves, my evasiveness, the secretive texts.
“That’s who you’re meeting on New Year’s Eve.”
I nod, my throat tight. “Yes.”
Jace is quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable. I know what he’s probably thinking. What anyone would think.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I blurt out, unable to stand the silence. “But it’s not-”
“You don’t know what I’m thinking,” he interrupts.
“Yes, I do.” I take a step toward him, needing him to understand. “I know prison sounds bad. Really bad. But my dad... he was a good dad, before he went away. The best.”
My vision blurs with tears. “I’ve been so scared to tell you because your family is everything mine isn’t—stable and respected and whole. I didn’t want you to look at me differently. I didn’t want to be the girl with the convict father who doesn’t deserve to work at Clayton Ranch.”
Suddenly he’s right there, one hand coming up to cup my face. “Baby, breathe.” His palm is warm against my cheek, and I realize I’m trembling. “Just breathe.”
I take a shaky breath, then another. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was scared, and then it got harder the longer I waited, and every time you invited me to family dinner or talked about ranch traditions, it just reminded me of everything I didn’t have. Everything I couldn’t give you.”
“Lindsay, look at me.”
I do, and the tenderness in his expression nearly breaks me. His thumb brushes away a tear I didn’t even know had fallen.
“There is nothing—” his voice is fierce now, “—nothing you could tell me that would make me think less of you. Do you understand?”
I manage a small nod, but the tears are falling faster now. All the stress of the past weeks, all the fear and secrecy, it all comes crashing down at once.
“I thought... your family... everyone at the ranch looks up to the Claytons, and I didn’t want?—“
“My family,” Jace says firmly, “is not perfect. We’ve got our own history, our own struggles. And even if we didn’t...” His other hand comes up so he’s cradling my face between his palms. “The only thing that matters to me is you.”
The weight of those words hangs between us. I can feel his heart pounding where his wrist brushes my neck, or maybe it’s mine. Maybe it’s both.
A soft laugh escapes him, and his thumbs brush away the last of my tears. “So there’s really no guy?” he asks, and there’s something new in his voice, something that makes my pulse skip.
“No guy,” I confirm, unable to stop the shy smile that tugs at my lips. “Just my dad.”
Jace’s eyes darken, and his hands slide from my face to my neck, fingers tangling in my hair. “Good.”
I lick my lips as I look up at him. “W-why good?”
“Because I’m going to kiss you now.”