20
At dinner time, Talia wanted nothing more than to stay in the bunkhouse with a cup of ramen, her laptop, and the kind of emotional distance that came from hiding under a blanket and pretending the outside world had no access to her.
Unfortunately, Stanley Ranch had rules.
Not official rules printed on paper, but rules that somehow carried more weight than contracts. One of the terms of Gordon’s interview was that she had to eat dinner at the main table with everyone else. At first, she had thought it was a power move. A way to remind her that she was being watched.
Now she understood it was worse than that.
It was a way to make her part of the rhythm of the place whether she felt welcome or not.
And tonight, she did not want rhythm. She wanted silence, and the ability to stare at her notes without remembering Gordon’s hands at her waist.
She sat on the edge of her bunk for another full minute, considering rebellion.
Then she sighed, closed her laptop, and stood.
“Fine,” she muttered. “Dinner with the emotionally observant cowboys.”
She changed into jeans and a decent shirt, then finally put on a bra, because she had learned her lesson for the day and would be carrying that lesson to the grave. She brushed her curls back, applied a little lip balm, and checked her reflection.
Composed.
Professional.
Normal.
A woman who had absolutely not been kissed senseless in a cottage by the subject of her article.
A woman whose body had not reacted like every nerve ending had been waiting for Gordon Windgate to wake it up.
A woman who was lying to herself with impressive commitment.
Talia grabbed her notebook out of habit, then stopped and set it back down.
No.
Tonight, she would not bring the notebook.
She was already too aware of the line between observation and intrusion. Bringing it to dinner after what happened with Gordon felt wrong, like she would be using the table to hide from the truth of herself.
She left the bunkhouse empty-handed and started toward the main house.
The evening air was warm, softened by the lowering sun.
The ranch moved toward night in layers. A horse snorted somewhere near the stables.
A truck door slammed in the distance. Someone laughed near the cottages.
The scent of hay, dust, and supper drifted together in a way that should not have been comforting.
But it was.
Annoyingly.
As she walked, she thought again about Gordon’s kiss.
She had spent the entire afternoon trying not to think about it, which meant she had thought about nothing else.
Why had he kissed her?
That was the question that kept circling back.
Not because she did not know he wanted her. Gordon was not subtle in the way other men were subtle. He did not smirk or flirt lazily or toss out compliments just to watch them land. When he wanted something, he looked at it directly. When he spoke, he meant what he said.
He had told her he liked her.
He had told her he wanted to explore whatever this was.
He had told her she needed to admit it to herself first.
That was the part that terrified her.
When Gordon first called and told her he would do the interview on his terms, she had expected every conversation to be like pulling teeth.
She had prepared for long silences, clipped answers, refusal after refusal.
She had expected a guarded man who would resent every question and force her to pry his story out inch by inch.
Instead, Gordon had been open.
Not careless. Not easy. But open.
About his mother.
About Paul.
About Bettie.
About Beau and Logan.
About the shame of arriving at Stanley Ranch as a spy and the relief of becoming something else.
And now, apparently, about his desire for her.
He was sincere.
She knew that the same way she had known the last man she dated was not.
Instinct.
Talia trusted her instincts. They had kept her safe in interviews, in bad neighborhoods, in offices where men smiled too warmly and praised too little. They had helped her sense when someone was lying, when someone was afraid, when someone was waiting for permission to tell the truth.
Her instinct told her Gordon was telling the truth.
Her instinct also told her this thing between them could wreck her if she was not careful.
By the time she reached the back door of the main house, she had her breathing under control.
Dinner. Sit down. Eat enough to appear normal. Speak when spoken to. Avoid looking at Gordon’s mouth. Leave.
Simple.
She opened the door and stepped inside.
The kitchen was already full.
Gordon sat in his usual place at the table, clean shirt, damp hair, quiet expression. He looked up when she entered, and for one ridiculous second, everything inside her went still.
He did not smile.
That might have been worse.
His eyes simply met hers, steady and warm, as if there was a conversation between them no one else could hear.
Talia looked away first.
A few other people glanced toward her. Not rudely. Not exactly. But she felt it anyway.
They still did not care for her presence in their lives.
Not really.
They tolerated her because Gordon had allowed her to be there. Because Luke and Edye had set terms. Because everyone at Stanley Ranch seemed to believe in civility even when trust was absent.
Edye greeted her from near Luke’s end of the table. “Evening, Talia.”
“Evening.”
Luke nodded. “Talia.”
“Luke.”
Southern hospitality at best.
Not cold enough to call rude.
Not warm enough to mistake for welcome.
Talia walked to the chair she had been using all week.
The chair beside Gordon’s.
She sat carefully, aware of him beside her. Aware of his arm near hers. Aware of the space between them like it had weight.
“Evening,” he said softly.
She looked down at her plate. “Evening.”
His mouth curved at one corner.
She did not look at it.
Everyone settled. Elise brought the last dish to the table with Earl behind her carrying a basket of biscuits. Malik told everyone that he was ready to eat. He reached for a biscuit. Nia tried to explain to him that he had to wait for daddy to say grace. Malik took offense to this.
Luke bowed his head.
Everyone followed.
“Lord,” Luke said, voice steady, “thank you for this food, for the work of the day, and for the people gathered here. Help us use what we’ve been given well and treat each other with patience. Amen.”
“Amen,” the table answered.
Treat each other with patience.
Talia wondered if Luke had chosen that on purpose.
Probably.
The meal began with the usual movement of plates and serving bowls. Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, biscuits, gravy, sliced tomatoes, something cheesy and baked that made Talia’s stomach recognize what her nerves had been trying to ignore.
Elise’s food smelled incredible.
Talia still had no appetite.
She put food on her plate because refusing would draw attention. Then she pushed it around with her fork while the table resumed its nightly rhythm.
Edye spoke first, lifting her voice enough to carry. “Before everyone scatters after dinner, I want to let y’all know that the new administrative assistant starts tomorrow morning.”
Eli looked up. “We have one?”
Edye smiled. “Yes. Wilma Haskins.”
Cody blinked. “Wilma?”
“She prefers Willie,” Edye added.
Eli nodded with approval. “I like her already.”
“You have not met her,” Rose said.
“I like women who come with instructions.”
Rose looked at him. “That explains a lot about our marriage.”
Laughter moved around the table.
Edye continued, “I’ll make sure everyone gets a chance to meet her, but try not to overwhelm her on her first day.”
Cody glanced around the crowded table. “That ship sails the second she comes through the gate.”
“She’ll be fine,” Luke said. “Edye hired her.”
“That doesn’t mean we should test her before lunch,” Edye said.
Earl reached for the biscuits. “Let Elise meet her first. If she stays after that, she’ll make it.”
Elise pointed a serving spoon at him. “I am delightful.”
Earl nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
The table laughed again.
Talia tried to smile. She wanted to be interested. She wanted to observe the way the ranch absorbed a new worker into its system before the woman had even arrived.
But her thoughts kept sliding sideways.
Gordon’s knee shifted beneath the table. Not touching hers, but close enough that she felt the awareness of him like heat.
She took one bite of chicken.
Chewed.
Swallowed.
Tasted almost nothing.
She pushed her potatoes to one side, then back again.
Maybe enough time had passed.
Maybe she could leave without seeming dramatic.
She had already built the excuse in her head.
Long day. Need to organize notes. Early morning. Thank you for dinner.
Polite. Simple. Professional.
She opened her mouth.
Elise beat her to it.
“Talia.”
Talia looked up.
Elise stood near the counter, eyes narrowed not in suspicion, but concern. Real concern.
“Something wrong with the food?”
The table quieted slightly.
Talia’s stomach dropped. “No. No, not at all.”
“You’re moving it around like it insulted you.”
A few smiles appeared, but Elise’s expression stayed serious.
Talia could tell she was genuinely worried.
That made it worse.
She had prepared for suspicion. For distance. For Luke’s watchful silence and Edye’s polite caution.
She had not prepared for Elise caring whether she was eating enough.
“It’s wonderful,” Talia said quickly. “I’m just not very hungry tonight.”
She started to push back her chair.
Then Gordon spoke.
“She’s upset with me.”
Talia froze.
Every head at the table turned.
Slowly.
Like sunflowers of impending doom.
Talia turned her head toward Gordon. “Excuse me?”
Gordon’s face remained calm. Too calm.
“We argued earlier,” he said.
Talia’s heart stopped.
No.
Absolutely not.
She did not know what he planned to say next, but she saw Luke’s attention sharpen from the head of the table. Edye’s eyes moved between them. Eli’s brows lifted with immediate interest. Rose sat up straighter. Cody looked like he regretted not bringing popcorn.
Talia leaned closer to Gordon before he could add anything else.
Her mouth near his ear, she whispered, “Okay, I admit it. I like you. But I will hurt you if you say anything else about this afternoon.”
Gordon smiled.
Not a big smile.
But enough.
Enough to announce to every person at that table that the argument had not been about work, weather, or fence repairs.
Damage done.
Talia pulled back, and Gordon lifted his glass like someone satisfied with an outcome.
Luke was glaring at her.
Not the full force of Luke Stanley’s displeasure, but close enough to make her spine straighten.
Edye was shaking her head, not in anger exactly. More like disappointment mixed with I knew something was happening.
That was worse.
Talia felt heat climb into her face.
She pushed her chair back and stood.
“Elise, dinner is great,” she said, voice a little too tight. “I just don’t have much of an appetite. Excuse me.”
She did not wait for permission.
Did not look at Gordon.
Did not look at Luke.
She walked out of the kitchen, through the back door, and into the evening air with as much dignity as a woman could manage while running from a table full of people who had just realized she was emotionally tangled with Gordon Windgate.
The door closed behind her.