Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
Tanner
I could admit that I didn't truly have a plan when I asked Simon to come stay the night with me.
All I knew was that I wanted him close by. I didn't want to wake up in my bed alone, and he had been such a comfort from the start.
The crush that I'd had on him was alive and well, tearing me open and laying me bare at his feet.
Except he wasn't letting me stay there. I felt comforted with him, like he was lifting me up and keeping me close.
Every second I spent with him was magical, in a sense. And the moment he stepped through my bedroom door last night, I felt even more of myself fall into place.
"Hey, bud," he'd said to me as he closed the door gently behind him and came over. "Is there enough room for me in there too?"
I'd shifted over and patted the empty space.
He didn't hesitate to crawl in with me, slipping under the blanket and holding his arm out as if to allow me to lay on top of him.
While I'd hoped we would be close in the bed together, I didn't expect him to want to cuddle.
As much as I tried to stay awake and enjoy his company, it was impossible. He was warm, and he smelled amazing. His touch was soothing in all the ways I'd been needing. Before I knew it, I was asleep.
And when I woke up this morning, he was still deep in his own REM cycle.
Thank goodness considering if he’d seen me first he’d have noticed I was sucking my thumb.
While I didn’t think it was a dealbreaker, it would definitely be something I’d be nervous to explain.
I wasn’t embarrassed by what I did. It was just…
different. People didn’t always do well with different.
I'd slipped away to shower on my own so I could be fresh when he woke up. I also wanted to pick out my own outfit today since he had done it the day before.
If he took care of me too much, he might decide I'm not worth the trouble.
For some reason, while I slept, those thoughts plagued my mind. Would I be too much? Was he simply entertaining me instead of actually wanting to take care of me himself?
The answers weren't all that important. What mattered was me not relying on him completely—not until I knew if being a Daddy was something he was interested in.
No reason to fall for someone if they weren't compatible with you, you know?
I dried myself off in the bathroom and then, with my towel wrapped around my waist, went back to my room. I figured he would still be asleep, but when his eyes popped open as I went to the closet, I froze.
"Well, good morning, bud," he said, voice all gravel and sex.
I didn't have to look down to know that the towel I was wearing had shifted—that it was very obvious his words caused a reaction in my body.
His eyes latched on to that part of me, and he licked his lips.
I shivered. Not because it was cold in my room, but because the heat in my spine was enough to make me want to drop my towel and climb over him to see what his mouth could do.
But I just said I didn't want to be needy. I internally berated myself for being too much.
So instead I shook my head and whispered, "Good morning," before shuffling into the closet.
I grabbed what I needed, then closed the door and quickly changed.
I could hear Simon moving around in the main area of the bedroom. He was normally quiet, but I had a feeling he was causing a ruckus to let me know he was there. I appreciated it since I worried my cold shoulder would send him away.
When I opened the door, he was seated on the edge of the bed. His jeans were missing—I figured he took them off at some point last night—and the t-shirt that I had probably drooled on was still in place along with a pair of animal print boxers.
While I wanted to know what we felt like skin to skin, I didn’t begrudge him for leaving something on. As it was, the man looked good. He didn't have to be naked for me to appreciate him.
"Come here, bud," he said, holding his hand out.
I stepped up, taking his hand in mine. He pulled me till I was standing between his legs. Looking up at me, he examined my face like he was trying to uncover some secrets.
It was difficult not to flinch under such scrutiny.
"Are you afraid?" he asked.
I shook my head quickly. "No," I said.
"Do you find me attractive?" he asked.
My eyes widened, and I bit my lip. He chuckled, but squeezed my hand nonetheless. "I won't be upset if you say no, but I'm curious. Your body seems to have a reaction to me greeting you, but you ran away. I want to be sure I didn't do something to intimidate you."
I held his hand so that I could use both of mine to cover my face. I was embarrassed. He wasn't being mean or mocking me in any way, but I still felt like a fool.
His hands went to my hips and his thumbs stroked underneath my shirt. It wasn't anything extremely sexual, but I felt every inch of me light up at his touch.
"It's okay. You don't have to answer me. I'm sorry I'm pushing you."
I dropped my hands and put mine over his where they were at my waist. I could tell he was about to move them, and I didn’t want that.
"It's not that," I said, voice soft. "It's that I was hoping you wouldn't pay too much attention to what was going on down there."
He tilted his head. "How could I miss it, bud? I notice everything about you."
I sighed. "I believe you, but I don't want you to feel like I'm perving on you or anything either."
"But you're fine. None of that bothers me. You can look all you want. I wanted to be sure that you were not scared of me or intimidated in some way."
"It's not that at all," I clarified even more. "I still don't understand what's happening here."
"Here as in between us?" he asked.
"Yes," I said quickly. "It's confusing, and I want to be good. I want things, but I'm also a mess right now and that's not fair."
His hands squeezed me almost to the point of pain. My eyes widened because it was the first forceful type of thing he'd done with me. I didn't hate it, but I was also curious as to what made him shift.
"There's no need to be down on yourself about anything," Simon spoke firmly. "You wanted something, as did I. Communication is key in times like this. There's no way for either of us to know what the other wants if we don't stop to talk about it."
I gave him a firm nod. "Okay, that's fair. I don't want there to be anything between us that's bad."
He smiled. "Very good. I feel the same way. Now then, why don't we head downstairs and get some breakfast?"
"Sure, that sounds good," I agreed.
He tapped my hip—the clear signal for me to go. I left him behind in my room, wondering if I could have enough time while he was getting ready to dissect the entire interaction.
Because I felt like he just answered some questions I'd had, but I didn't know what those answers were. And I'm not sure if I have the courage to ask more questions today. I'm already confused enough.
Today turned out nothing like yesterday.
The morning was full of chaos—between animals attempting to get loose and the news of a storm rolling in and a couple of veterinary emergencies sending Griffin out into the cold, it seemed as if everything that could go wrong was going wrong.
Since I was an extra set of hands, I stepped in to be helpful. Of course, I knew my way around a ranch, having grown up in the area. I wasn't a stranger to manual labor, though I had gone the route of education. But when push came to shove, I was there with the best of them to lend a helping hand.
The only issue came when I realized I hadn't had lunch.
I knew because my body made it clear that I had skipped out.
The loud grumble startled both me and the horse I was taking care of.
I swear if it could talk, it would have raised its brow at me and shook its head like, "You foolish boy, how dare you not eat? "
Because I'm a bit of a glutton for punishment, I worked a little longer after that. It was only after Harlan appeared, bundled up and scowling, that I noticed the time again.
It was two o'clock in the afternoon and my body wasn’t going to let me skip another minute of eating.
"Harlan," I said as I set down the brush I'd been using. I closed the stall and walked over to where he was standing. "What are you doing out here?" I asked, since I knew for a fact he didn’t handle the outside chores. His domain was the kitchen, and he was damn proud of it.
He shook his head. "You never came to eat."
I frowned. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you would notice."
He huffed. "I notice when your Secret Santa made sure to get you something special, and you don't show up for it."
He extended his hands toward me, and I noticed then he had a thermos of something.
I took it from him and unscrewed the cap slowly. He watched, his arms crossed in that manner that intimidated a lot of people but only amused me. I've seen much scarier things in my years of practicing law. A grumpy ranch cook was nothing.
Inside the canister, I found a steaming hot liquid. I took a whiff and smiled. "It's soup. Minestrone."
It was my favorite.
Harlan knew because we once had a very in-depth discussion about soups. But why he made it for me was confusing.
Then I registered his words from before. He made it because my Secret Santa wanted it for me.
My eyes widened as I looked up at him. "You know who my Secret Santa is."
He raised his hands and took a step back. "Easy there, Tanner. I might know things, but I'm no snitch. I'm not going to end up in a ditch because you want to know who asked me to make your soup."
I scowled. "Why would you end up in a ditch?"
He tilted his head. "You're a lawyer, and you don't know the whole phrase? Snitches get stitches and wind up in ditches."
My mouth made an "O" shape as I recalled the phrase that some of my law school peers used to use all the time—mostly because they wanted to find the snitches who would help them close out a case. I wasn't one to entertain the notion. It was a waste of time in my opinion.
But now I could see why Harlan was trying to pull that card.
"I doubt this person would put you in a ditch. It's someone from the ranch, so clearly they care about you, and I guess me by proxy."
He scoffed. "By proxy is not the word I would use. They care a whole hell of a lot."
I opened my mouth to ask more questions, but he mimed zipping his lips, and I knew my time was up. Whatever secrets he had, he wasn't willing to share them with me.
That was fine. I could figure it out on my own. Plus, if I knew how the game played out, I would get my answers on Christmas anyway. There would be a big reveal. So either I play detective and get my answers, or I wait the few days until Christmas comes.
I popped the foldable spoon out of the lid and took a bite as I thought it over. The minute the food hit my stomach, I groaned.
Harlan chuckled. "Glad to see that my touch is still there. I'm off now. Don't forget to bring that back with you so I can clean it."
He was gone as quickly as he appeared.
I stood there for a moment, looking into the container and smiling to myself. But in the next second, I felt a wave of emotion crash through me.
I quickly put the lid on the soup and set it down on one of the benches as I ran. I tucked myself into a small crevice to hide. I didn't want anyone else seeing me as I cradled the thermos to my chest and cried.
What was it about this food that made me so sad?
Well, technically I guess I wasn't sad. I was overwhelmed that someone would enjoy me, like me enough to do this—to convince Harlan to cook, to have it brought to me.
That's not to mention the other gifts they'd already given.
I felt as if I was unprepared for whoever this was because it was more than a game. All these little hints they'd given me were more.
The label on the soup scratched against my hand, and I looked down. It was one of those stick-and-peel kind, and it said: *Eat something warm. You deserve it.*
Tears leaked from my eyes again, and I sobbed—partially for the boy in me who longed for a Daddy, but also because nice things always felt so much bigger than they were.
When it's been a long time since anyone has taken care of you or shown you any type of kindness besides the basics, it overwhelms a person. I didn't know how to handle the emotions and so they had to come out.
The sound of running feet hit my ears, and I looked up to see Simon jogging toward me, his facial expression alarmed.
He dropped down to a squat in front of my prone position, and his hands ran over me like he was worried I'd been hurt.
"What's wrong, bud? Tell me. Tell me and I'll fix it," he said urgently.
I shook my head, then eased the thermos of soup forward. "I… I… I can't," I cried out as I pulled it back to my chest and ducked my head, crying even harder.
I hated not being able to form sentences. I wanted to tell him how I felt, how all of this was tearing me apart and putting me back together.
But Simon somehow just knew, because he went from squatting to kneeling and then wrapped his arms around me. His head leaned against mine, and he simply took deep breaths as I poured out my soul over a canister of soup.
It was like he knew I needed the time to free myself of the overwhelm.
By the time I came back up for air, I had made a decision.
I would ask Simon about being a Daddy soon, maybe after this whole Secret Santa thing, because whoever was taking care of me this well might be in the running for the person I want to be my Daddy.
If only my Secret Santa could also be Simon, then everything would be perfect.