Chapter 3
CHAPTER
THREE
Tanner
The figure on the porch startled me at first.
I worried maybe I'd woken someone up. That my headlights cutting through the darkness had dragged them from their warm blankets into the cold.
But as I parked in front of the house I'd hoped to find peace in, I realized it wasn't either of the owners standing there in the dim light.
No, it was Simon waiting there.
My heart raced at the sight of the other man, a sudden kick against my ribs that had nothing to do with exhaustion. He was… interesting. That was the safest word I could use, though it didn't come close to capturing the effect he had on me.
Every time I'd come to the ranch, he'd been busy doing something: tending horses, mending fences, moving through the world with a quiet competence that drew my eye every single time.
Other than the first time we exchanged names and shook hands—his palm warm and callused against mine—he kept to the outskirts.
He was a shadow I couldn't help but watch.
Part of me wondered if it was because he felt like an outsider.
It was an easy conclusion considering how close everyone on the ranch was. This was one of the few places that didn't have a high turnover rate of helping hands. When people came to the Coleman Ranch, they stayed. They built a home. They found family.
So for Simon, it had to have seemed like he was stepping into a world he wasn't meant to be a part of at first. Kind of like trying to join a conversation already in progress, never quite finding the rhythm.
But it had been years, and I still couldn't tell you much about him. The mystery only made the pull stronger.
It felt wrong to ask the others anything. They would have mistaken my curiosity for interest—though "mistake" was probably the wrong word. I definitely felt interested. More than interested, if I was being honest with myself in the privacy of my own head.
Since he'd never shown any emotion back, I let the crush die out. Or at least, I tried to. My workload overtook my life, drowning out my wants with the endless demands of case after case, client after client.
Only this last one stopped me in my tracks. This loss devastated me more than any before it, cutting deeper than I understood. And worst of all, I couldn't explain why.
Burnout.
The word came to mind, settling over me like a diagnosis. It would explain why I felt like I had to push myself over and over again in a fruitless endeavor. Eventually the body gives up, and I felt like mine had. I’d finally hit a wall I couldn't climb.
I took a deep breath as I shut the car off, climbing out of the cab. I took a minute to breathe the frosty air before traipsing toward the porch steps.
Simon stood there, hands in his coat pockets as he watched every step I took. The weight of his gaze made me hyperaware of my movements, of how I must look—rumpled and red-eyed and barely holding it together.
"Sorry if I woke you," I said once I was close enough to not have to yell.
He shook his head, looking me over with an intensity that made my skin warm despite the cold. "You didn't wake me. I was out checking on the horses and doing my rounds. Saw the lights."
He tipped his head toward my car.
I turned to look at it just as the automatic lights themselves shut off, plunging us into the softer glow of the porch lamp. When I turned back around, his gaze was on my face. He was searching and probably seeing far too much.
I felt as if he were looking into my soul.
The man's eyes were so piercing, the kind of brown that turned amber in certain light.
I didn't want him to see everything, not yet, not when we weren't close.
I still didn't know if I was going to explain everything to Sean and Atticus.
They knew just how much I was working myself to the bone.
They would demand I stay for a while longer than I really could afford to take.
Internally, I scoffed at myself. "Afford to take" was a funny phrase. I had money, an endless supply of it. I also had an endless supply of need to help others.
A need to be useful.
A need to matter.
I wanted to feel like I was worth something.
For me, that meant doing as many cases as I could fit in a year or two or ten. However long I was able-bodied.
"Can we go inside?" I asked Simon when the silence stretched too long and the cold started seeping through my coat.
He blinked as if coming back from somewhere far away, then nodded and turned. He opened the door and waved his hand as if to usher me in with a gesture that was somehow both casual and careful.
I stepped through, taking only a moment to clear the snow off my boots before slipping them off by the door. The warmth of the house hit me immediately, and I had to fight the urge to just sink to the floor right there.
Simon followed behind me, slipping his shoes off as well with quiet, efficient movements. I’d bet the man could sneak up on anyone. He was that fluid in each shift of his frame.
I looked around the first floor, letting the familiarity wash over me.
Everything there reminded me of home—or what home should feel like.
The warmth of the Coleman house emanated from every inch.
The blankets and pillows draped over furniture, the cozy fire burning low in the hearth, the photo frames hanging on the walls.
All of it had culminated to a well-lived life.
A life full of love.
I moved further into the room to give Simon space to move around me. I figured he'd leave me to go get Sean or Atticus, to let them know I'd arrived and hand me off to someone better equipped to handle whatever this was.
Instead, he sat down on the couch and patted the space beside him.
My heart rate kicked back up again, having only just died down.
I eased into the spot, careful not to let my body touch his. No need to crowd the man when he was being kind. He could have already gone to bed, been halfway to sleep, but he'd seen my lights and he'd stuck around. Waited for me in the cold.
"What brings you to the ranch so late?" he asked, his voice heavy with something I couldn't name—concern, maybe, or a gentleness I hadn't expected.
I shrugged and turned my gaze to the front door. There was a window that allowed you to see out. The glow of the porch light created a small halo against the dark night. It was easier to look there than to stare at this attractive man wanting to know why I had fled to this sanctuary.
"It's hard to answer that question," I muttered. "I got in my car and suddenly I was on my way here. Like my hands knew before my brain did."
He hummed, a low sound that rumbled through the quiet, as if to encourage me to continue. "This place always feels safe, doesn't it? And you needed somewhere safe tonight?"
The warmth of his voice was too much. Too understanding. Too kind.
I closed my eyes and bobbed my head as I fought back tears that had been threatening since the courthouse steps. His hand closed over mine, and my eyes popped open, startled by the contact. My jaw dropped but no words would come.
"This place is safe, Tanner," he said softly, his thumb brushing once across my knuckles in a touch so gentle it made my chest ache. "We'll keep you away from whatever troubles you."
I bit my lip, but the tears I'd just been fighting trickled down my face anyway. I wished I could suck them back up, make them completely disappear. Simon didn't need to see me fall apart like this. He didn't need to witness how thoroughly I was broken.
Except when I took in his expression, it wasn't pity that I saw.
It was concern. Pure, uncomplicated concern.
The hand not holding mine reached up and gently swiped away my tears with his thumb, the callused digit catching the moisture with tenderness.
I froze under his touch, every nerve ending suddenly awake. Ironically, that was enough to get him to release me. His hand dropped away.
I hated my body's reaction. Not because it was negative, but because I wanted more of him against me. Wanted his warmth, his solidity, wanted to lean into him and let someone else be strong for once.
But again, it wasn't meant to be. Not quite yet. Maybe not ever.
"I don't think it's right to wake up the guys when it's just you," he said, standing and offering me his hand. "We can get you set up in a spare room, and I'll text them so they see it when they wake up."
Just you.
Just Tanner.
Just.
The words rang through my head, reminding me how boring and plain I was. How forgettable.
"Thanks," I said, taking his hand and letting him pull me to my feet.
As I stood and followed him up the stairs, I didn't have the energy to figure out what to sleep in or how I'd handle things tomorrow. Tonight was too dreadful. My body was worn down, and my heart ached both for the case I lost and for the nothingness that came from Simon's careful distance.
He led me up the stairs to the guest room I was quite familiar with. When he turned on the light, I relaxed a fraction at seeing the space. The same quilt, the same sturdy furniture, the same sense of sanctuary I knew well.
This was familiar. I could handle it now.
I looked up at him and smiled as best I could, though I knew it probably looked more like a grimace. "I appreciate you. I hope you can get some rest, and I didn't delay you too much."
His brows dipped, a small frown pulling at his mouth. "You're not a problem, Tanner. I told you I was already awake." His voice was firm, almost stern. "I wouldn't leave you out in the cold by yourself."
Giving him a tight nod, I stepped further into the room and pivoted to face him. "I appreciate it," I said, my tone embarrassingly formal. It was the lawyer voice I used as armor.
Simon took the hint, dipping his head once and closing the door behind him with a soft click. Once I heard his steps move down the hallway and disappear, I settled onto the bed. I dropped my face into my hands and huffed out a breath that was almost a laugh.
This could have gone so much better.
I could have not been awkward. It could have not been Simon who was here when I showed up. I could have had a better explanation than "I don't know" and "I just drove here."
But wallowing in the frustration of my awkwardness wouldn't do me any good. I needed to get myself in order.
Sleep.
I needed to sleep.
Pulling the comforter back, I eased underneath the warmth and snuggled into the pillow—soft and smelling faintly of lavender. Sure, the light was still on, but that didn't matter to me. I was exhausted in my soul, bone-deep tired in a way that went beyond physical.
I wasn't sure anything would be disruptive enough to keep me awake.
As I lay there, I pondered how the future would go. I needed to make a change—a real one, not just talking about it in therapy sessions I barely made time for. Going on like this would only to lead to worse problems.
And I wouldn't always have the ranch. There would come a point where I needed to find my own happy, safe space… A place that I could control or that I was welcomed into endlessly.
Taking advantage of my friends wasn't how I wanted to live my life.
At the same time, I had no clue how to make that happen. While I had money, I didn't have the energy and time to invest in making a house a home. More than anything, I wished for someone to step in and take care of things.
For someone to take care of me.
I wanted a partner.
A Daddy.
It was a role I never expected to fill, not with the long hours I worked and the lack of socialization. If the person wasn't on the ranch or at a Market Day, I likely wouldn't meet them outside of a courthouse. Even then, those were people related to either my client or to a case.
That was a strict no-go for me.
Which meant my options were limited. It meant that my future was unsteady, built on sand rather than solid ground.
As I drifted into sleep, my mind conjured images of me bundled in someone's arms. Strong arms that held me close, made me feel small in the best way. I felt at peace. I felt loved and cared for. Safe in a way I hadn't felt in years.
If only I could see whose arms they were.
Maybe then I could go out and find this mystery man.
Maybe then I'd know what, or rather who, I was searching for.