Chapter 13 TESSA
TESSA
I wake to the smell of sex, leather, and the faint hum of equipment.
It’s not a good mix, especially for the pounding in my head.
It feels like I swallowed the bourbon bottle whole.
But that’s not what twists my stomach. It’s the memory, heat, skin, Jace’s weight pressing me into the couch cushions, and the sound of my own voice begging him not to stop.
Oh, God. What the hell was I thinking?
I push up, groaning as my body protests, sore in ways that have nothing to do with ranch chores.
The blanket someone, probably him, threw over me is tangled around my legs.
All my clothes are folded in a neat pile on the coffee table in front of me, but my panties are nowhere in sight.
I scrub a hand over my face, as if I can erase the night with enough pressure.
I’ve been living in denial for a month, telling myself that DC was a one-off that cannot happen again, yet all it took was one night, some alcohol in my system, and a very sexy cowboy to rethink all that.
If I thought DC was great, then last night was out of this world. And I wouldn’t mind it happening again.
Wait, I can’t allow myself to think that.
This is a dangerous game I’m playing, and I’m better off forgetting last night and sticking to the roles of my new job.
I don’t want the lines to get blurred. I’m hiding too many secrets, and when the time to leave comes, I need to be able to do so without anything holding me back.
Picking up my clothes, I get dressed slowly, my whole body protesting.
What did that mountain of a cowboy do to me?
Did he plow through me or something? I did not for a second find myself complaining, but now my body is feeling it.
But under all that hurt is a delicious undertone, body humming with the remnants of pleasure I felt last night.
Still, how did we get from discussing my new contract to fucking each other’s brains out? It’s the liquor. I blame the bourbon; otherwise, I will have to take responsibility, and I do not want to.
When I finally drag myself out of his office and into the kitchen for some coffee and much-needed painkillers, he’s there.
Perched on his chair, mug in hand, hair damp from a shower.
Fresh shirt, clean jeans, boots already on.
He looks like the picture of control, while I feel like the smudged, rumpled opposite.
“Good morning,” I mutter, reaching for the nearest mug.
He doesn’t look at me right away. Just takes a long sip, jaw tight. Finally, he sets the mug down and meets my eyes. For a second, something flickers there—desire, all the memories we shared last night—but it’s gone before I can pin it down.
“About last night, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let that happen,” he says. His voice is steady, measured. “I was out of line.”
The words land like a punch to the ribs. I grip the edge of the counter, forcing a shrug. “Yeah, well, bourbon tends to do that.”
His gaze sharpens, like he doesn’t buy the casual act, but he doesn’t push. “Do you still want the job as Daisy’s nanny?”
I don’t even need to think about it. “Yes, I do.”
Sienna made it clear that I have to stay at Iron Stallion. Convincing Jace was already hard enough. I’m not going to blow it just because we slept together. It’s happened once and we were able to move past it, we can do it again.
Or can we? I guess we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?
“That’s good. As long as you do your job, I’ll stay out of your business. No blurred lines. No more mistakes.”
I nod, keeping my face smooth and voice light. “Crystal clear, boss. Lanes, boundaries, duly noted.”
But inside, I’m a storm. Part of me is relieved—this is safer, simpler. But another part, the one that still remembers how he felt inside me, how he said my name like a prayer and a curse, aches with disappointment I have no business feeling.
“Guess that’s settled then,” he murmurs, but I still manage to hear him.
I force a smile, lift the mug to my lips. “Seems so.”
He nods once, curt, like a general ending a briefing. Then he grabs his hat from the counter, wheels past me, and out the door.
The silence he leaves behind is louder than anything. If I’m to stay safe, I have to stay here, and the only way to do that is to do my job diligently. So, no more fooling around with the boss. I’ll do my part as long as he does his.
Best of luck to both of us.
The next few days blur together into something resembling routine, though I’m not sure I’d call it my routine.
Daisy wakes at dawn like some kind of tiny rooster, bounding into my room when the sky is still bruised with night.
I’m dragged out of bed, bleary-eyed, to braid her hair, pack her lunch, and make sure she doesn’t “forget” to brush her teeth.
She’s not doing this to make sure I stick to my duties, but to punish, and boy, does she make sure I’m feeling it. Daisy has made it clear that she does not like me, and she is not hiding it. Thus why she is doing her level best to make my life and work as hard as possible.
By seven a.m., she’s out the door with her backpack, and I’m already covered in a fine layer of dust from just walking across the damn yard. Some days I have to drop her off at school, and sometimes she takes the bus. Her schedule is taking a bit to get used to, but I’m doing my best.
Although deep down inside, the city girl in me is screaming.
There’s no air conditioning here, just open windows and ceiling fans that only stir hot air around. The heat is overwhelming, and on the rare occasions when it does rain, the mud sticks to everything: my shoes, jeans, and the hem of the one dress I thought would be “cute but casual.”
Then there are the rules. Jace runs the ranch like a drill sergeant in the military.
He still has the army ranger blood running in him and it’s pissing me the fuck off that he expects me to behave like one of his little soldiers.
Tessa do this. Miss Monroe do that. Tessa go there.
Miss Monroe come here. It’s aggravating and if it doesn’t stop soon, I’ll walk into a bull pen and let one of those massive beasts they are rearing plow through me.
Then there is his family. They aren’t that bad.
I actually haven’t met their old man, just seen him in passing but he resembles his sons greatly.
Beckett and Zane treat every duty like a competition, always bickering like children and not the married men that they are.
Ella and I haven’t interacted much, so I don’t have much of an opinion on her, or Ava and Quinn.
It’s like I stumbled into a cowboy boarding school with no exit. I’m walking on eggshells around everyone, and it’s messing with my sanity. I’m a whisper away from going crazy.
But I grit my teeth and get through it, reminding myself this isn’t forever. I’m safe here. That’s what matters. Richard can’t get past the walls of Iron Stallion, not with this fortress of grumpy cowboys guarding it.
But safety feels like a thin blanket when every time I turn around, Jace is there. Watching.
Sometimes it’s on the porch, hat pulled low, arms crossed like he’s carved out of oak.
Sometimes it’s across the dinner table, his gaze flicking to me when he thinks I won’t notice.
Other times it’s in the barn, his voice carrying low as he gives orders, and the sound of it crawls over my skin until I want to scream.
He doesn’t say much to me. Sometimes it’s a grunt that could mean anything from good morning to get out of my sight. Other times it’s just a sharp nod, like he’s ticking off a mental checklist: Tessa’s alive, Tessa hasn’t set the place on fire, Daisy still has both arms.
I hate it. Hate the way it makes me feel exposed, like he can see straight through me, right down to the part that hasn’t stopped replaying that night in his office.
It doesn’t matter where I go on this ranch—he is always there.
But it’s the way he looks at me that gets under my skin.
Not soft, not warm. Sharp. Assessing. Like he’s waiting for me to prove I can’t hack it out here. Or worse, like he’s regretting what happened that night and trying to convince himself it didn’t mean anything.
I catch myself overthinking every glance, every silence. One minute, I’m sure he’s furious with me. The next, I swear I catch his eyes lingering on my mouth, and my whole body betrays me, buzzing, restless, too aware.
It drives me insane.
So I cover it with sarcasm. I roll my eyes when I catch him watching. I mutter under my breath about cowboys with control issues. But underneath the act, I feel raw, exposed, like one wrong step and I’ll give myself away.
And I hate that part of me wants to.
“Please tell me you have good news for me,” I plead with Sienna, perched on the dressing table, drying my hair after a shower.
“I’m sorry, girlie, nothing good,” she apologizes.
I groan, drop the towel on the chair, and plop myself onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
“When is it ever gonna end?” I lament, willing myself not to cry.
It’s been a week since Richard got out, and I’ve been living on edge ever since. I know I’m safe here, but the part of me that has been running the past couple of months cannot help but overthink.
Sienna does her best to reassure me, but by the end of the call, I do not feel any better. I need to get out of this ranch, but I can’t yet, not when Richard is still out there.
It’s just all starting to get to me, and I’m scared that one of these fine days, I’ll crack.
My body is aching from chores I was never meant to take on, my skin still carries the sting of Jace’s stare, and all I want is my old life back—air conditioning, noise, city lights. A place where I felt like myself.
But that life doesn’t exist anymore.
Richard is out there. Free. And if I’ve learned anything about him, it’s that he doesn’t let loose ends walk away. Not after what I did. He’s out for blood, and mine is at the top of his list.
The thought makes my stomach twist, but it also sharpens everything.
No matter how suffocating Iron Stallion feels, no matter how much mud and judgment and grumpy cowboys I have to wade through, this place is still my fortress.
Richard can’t get to me here. Not with the Morgan brothers and their watchful eyes.
Not with Jace’s constant, maddening presence.
So I swallow the ache, the shame, the restless pull toward a man who already made it clear that what happened between us was a mistake. None of that matters. Survival matters.
I roll onto my side, pulling the blanket tighter around me, whispering into the dark as if the words can make it true.
“I can handle this. I have to.”