24
Talia woke to the sound of tapping against her window.
At first, the noise folded into whatever strange dream she had been having. Something about water, moonlight, and a voice telling her she had parked too far from the main road. She shifted against the seat, neck stiff, one leg half-numb from the awkward angle she had slept in.
The tapping came again.
Sharper this time.
Talia’s eyes opened.
For one dazed second, she had no idea where she was.
Not the bunkhouse.
Not her apartment.
Not a hotel.
The windshield framed pale morning light and the still surface of the pond beyond it. Her laptop sat closed on the passenger seat. Her phone was in her lap. Her mouth tasted like stale sleep and regret.
Then she turned her head.
Gordon stood outside her driver’s side window.
His face was tight with worry.
Talia sat up fast, her heart kicking hard. She reached automatically for the window controls, then realized the car was off. Fumbling, she pressed the start button. The engine came to life, and she lowered the window.
Cool morning air rushed in.
“What are you doing sleeping in your car all the way out here?” Gordon asked.
Not loud.
Not angry exactly.
But his voice had an edge that sliced through the last of her sleep.
Talia blinked at him, still trying to wake fully. “Good morning to you too.”
“Talia.”
She yawned despite herself, covering her mouth with one hand. “I needed someplace quiet and private.”
“So you chose your car by a pond miles from the bunkhouse?”
“It was the only place I could think of.” She rubbed one eye, then winced when her shoulder protested. “If I sat in it near the ranch house, everybody would want to know why I was sitting in my car. So I thought I’d explore the ranch a bit.”
Gordon stared at her.
Then he sighed and reached for the handle.
The door did not open.
Talia glanced down, realized it was locked, and pressed the button.
Gordon pulled the door open and crouched beside the car, bringing himself closer to eye level. The move took some of the harshness out of him, but not the worry. He looked like a man who had run on fear for too long and had not figured out what to do with the relief yet.
“You scared me half to death,” he said.
Talia’s breath caught.
She had expected irritation. A lecture. Maybe a dry comment about city women wandering off on ranch land with dead phones and bad ideas.
She had not expected that.
He kept his eyes on hers. “I thought you left because you were mad at me.”
The sleepiness drained out of her.
In his face, she saw it clearly.
He was not performing. Not trying to win a point. Not making her feel guilty for effect.
He had genuinely been afraid.
“I tried calling you,” he said. “It went straight to voicemail. Then I saw your car was gone too.”
Talia looked down at the phone in her lap and pressed the side button.
Nothing.
The screen stayed black.
Dead.
“Oh,” she whispered.
She picked it up, pressed again, then held it like that would change anything.
Nothing.
“My phone died.”
“I figured that out.”
“I didn’t mean to worry anyone.” She looked back at him, shame sliding heavy into her chest. “I’m sorry.”
Gordon’s expression softened, but the fear had not completely left his eyes.
“You weren’t leaving, were you?”
Talia snorted before she could stop herself.
The sound was not elegant.
Gordon’s brows lifted.
She sighed and leaned back against the seat. “I considered it.”
His face closed slightly.
“Not seriously,” she added. “Or maybe seriously for about five minutes. But I have a job to do, and I wasn’t leaving until the story was finished.”
He stayed quiet.
“And,” she admitted, softer now, “there’s more to learn about you. About your place on this ranch.”
His gaze held hers.
The morning seemed to still around them. The pond behind him reflected a thin wash of gold. Birds called somewhere in the trees. The ranch, enormous and watchful, waited just beyond the bend in the road.
Gordon shifted, reaching into his pocket.
Talia frowned as he pulled out his key ring.
“What are you doing?”
He worked one key free and held it out to her.
She looked at it, then at him. “What’s this?”
“The key to my place.”
Her eyes widened. “Your cottage?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you giving me a key to your cottage?”
“If you need privacy to write, go there.”
Talia stared at him.
He said it like it was simple.
Like people just handed over access to their private space because someone else needed quiet.
“Gordon.”
“If I’m there and you need the place, I’ll leave.”
“That’s your home.”
“I know.”
“You just got it.”
“I know that too.”
She looked at the key in his palm.
Then back at him.
There was no flirtation in his face. No angle. No attempt to use the offer as leverage. He was not trying to lure her there or make another kiss happen or trap her inside some emotional debt.
He had been afraid he had run her off.
Now he was offering her a place to breathe.
The realization made her throat tighten.
Talia reached out and took the key.
The metal was warm from his hand.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Gordon nodded once.
Then he pulled out his phone and stood.
Talia watched him as he made a call.
“She’s here,” he said as soon as someone answered. “At the pond. She’s fine.”
He listened for a second, eyes still on Talia.
“She needed peace and quiet to work on her story and fell asleep in her car. Her phone died.”
Another pause.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Talia’s stomach sank.
“Yes, I’ll bring her back,” Gordon said. “No, she’s not hurt.”
He glanced toward the pond. “Just stiff and probably embarrassed.”
Talia shot him a look.
His mouth twitched faintly.
“I will,” he said, then ended the call.
Talia tilted her head. “Who was that?”
“Edye.”
“Why did you call Edye?”
“Because she was about to organize a search party to find you.”
Talia blinked. “A search party?”
“Yes.”
“Why would she do that?”
Gordon tucked his phone away. “Because that’s Edye.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is if you know her.”
“I don’t.”
He crouched again, his expression serious now. “You arrived at this ranch with people cautious of you, and they had reason to be. But Edye genuinely cares about the safety and happiness of everyone here.”
Talia looked away.
“Even a reporter who lied to get to me,” he added.
The words were not cruel.
That somehow made them worse.
Her shame settled low and heavy inside her. She looked down at the key still resting in her palm, then at her dead phone, then at the laptop she had drained writing a story she hoped might repair at least part of what she had broken.
“I know what I did was wrong,” she said.
“I know you do.”
She met his eyes.
“I’m going to write something honest.”
“I believe you.”
“You shouldn’t. Not yet.”
“Maybe not.” He stood. “But I do.”
That hurt too.
In a different way.
A better way, maybe.
Still, it hurt.
Talia closed her fingers around the key.
If she finished this article properly, maybe she could redeem part of her reputation here. Not all of it. Maybe not even most. But something. Enough that when people at the table looked at her, they would see more than the woman who lied.
Maybe they would see the woman who told the truth after.
Gordon stepped back from the open door. “Follow me back to the main house.”
Talia nodded.
He closed her door gently, then moved back toward his truck.