Chapter 13 Secrets Dont Stay Buried
Almost Caught
Keeping a secret relationship on a ranch turned out to be significantly harder than either of us expected.
Not because Ryder and I were careless.
Because Blackthorn Ranch functioned like its own small universe.
Everyone knew where everyone else was.
Everyone noticed when routines changed.
And apparently everyone possessed the observational skills of trained detectives whenever gossip was involved.
For weeks, we'd managed surprisingly well.
Mostly because neither of us acted very differently in public.
Ryder still barked instructions.
I still argued with him occasionally.
We still worked together.
Still shared meals.
Still spent time around the same people.
Nothing looked unusual from the outside.
At least that was what we kept telling ourselves.
Reality was becoming less convincing.
The problem wasn't public behavior.
The problem was the small moments.
The accidental moments.
The moments that happened before either of us realized someone might be watching.
A smile held a second too long.
A look exchanged across a crowded room.
The instinctive way Ryder always seemed to know when something was bothering me.
Those were the dangerous things.
The things people noticed.
The things people remembered.
The things that eventually turned into rumors.
I was reminded of that one hot afternoon while helping repair fencing near the western pasture.
Several ranch hands worked nearby.
The job itself wasn't difficult.
Just repetitive.
The kind of work that gave people too much time to talk.
Unfortunately.
The conversation drifted from sports to weather and eventually landed on relationships.
A terrible development.
I immediately focused very hard on the fence post in front of me.
One of the workers laughed.
"Oliver's awfully quiet."
Another agreed.
"That's because city boys don't know anything about dating."
The group laughed.
I groaned.
The teasing wasn't unusual.
The ranch hands treated everyone this way.
Unfortunately, I had secrets now.
Secrets made casual conversations significantly more stressful.
"Leave him alone," another worker said.
"Kid's probably got somebody back in college."
My stomach tightened.
Several men looked toward me.
Waiting.
Curious.
The exact reaction I didn't want.
I forced a shrug.
"Not currently."
Technically true.
Technically not the whole truth.
The distinction felt important.
Several more jokes followed.
Then the conversation moved elsewhere.
I breathed easier.
For approximately thirty seconds.
Then I looked up.
And found Ryder watching from across the pasture.
The cowboy stood near one of the trucks.
Arms folded.
Expression unreadable.
Our eyes met.
A brief moment.
Nothing more.
Yet something passed between us.
Something private.
Something dangerous.
I immediately looked away.
Too late.
One of the ranch hands noticed.
My pulse stumbled.
The worker glanced toward Ryder.
Then back toward me.
A slow grin appeared.
Oh no.
No.
Absolutely not.
Thankfully, he didn't say anything.
At least not out loud.
The suspicious look remained.
And somehow that felt worse.
The rest of the afternoon passed without disaster.
Barely.
Later, while putting away equipment, I nearly walked directly into Ryder behind one of the storage sheds.
The collision startled both of us.
For one ridiculous second, we simply stared at each other.
Then Ryder reached out automatically.
His hand settled briefly against my arm.
The gesture lasted less than a second.
Long enough.
A familiar warmth spread through my chest.
The smile arrived before I could stop it.
Ryder noticed.
His expression softened.
Not much.
Enough.
Then footsteps sounded nearby.
Both of us stepped apart immediately.
The timing couldn't have been worse.
One of the ranch hands rounded the corner.
His eyes moved from Ryder to me.
Then back again.
Suspicion flashed briefly across his face.
My heart stopped.
The worker looked between us one final time.
Then continued walking.
Without saying a word.
Which somehow felt more threatening.
The second he disappeared, I groaned.
"This is impossible."
Ryder looked far too amused.
"You're overreacting."
I stared.
"You say that now."
His smile widened slightly.
The sight immediately became another problem.
God.
The man had no right smiling like that.
Especially not where people could see.
"Stop doing that."
His eyebrow lifted.
"Doing what?"
"That."
"Very specific."
I rolled my eyes.
The conversation ended when more workers arrived.
Yet the feeling remained.
A growing awareness that our luck couldn't last forever.
Secrets rarely stayed buried.
Especially in places like Blackthorn.
The next week only confirmed it.
The rumors in town continued.
The looks continued.
The whispers continued.
Even if nobody knew the full truth, people clearly suspected something.
The realization weighed on me more than I wanted to admit.
Not because I was ashamed.
Because I wasn't.
What worried me was Ryder.
The ranch.
The consequences.
Small towns had long memories.
Longer opinions.
I didn't want my presence creating problems for him.
The thought followed me through several days of work.
Through dinners.
Through evenings beneath the stars.
Through every quiet moment Ryder and I managed to steal together.
Then everything became considerably more complicated.
My uncle arrived unexpectedly.
The sight alone made me nervous.
Not because we had a bad relationship.
Because he knew me too well.
A dangerous quality lately.
He showed up on a Friday afternoon under the excuse of checking on the ranch and visiting old friends.
The explanation sounded reasonable.
Unfortunately, the timing felt suspicious.
Very suspicious.
By dinner, he'd already asked a dozen questions.
About work.
About school.
About the future.
About whether I planned on returning to campus immediately after summer ended.
That last question lingered.
Dangerously.
I didn't have a good answer anymore.
The uncertainty seemed to interest him.
A lot.
The following morning brought disaster.
Or something very close to it.
Several of us were moving equipment near the main barn.
The work itself required coordination.
Tools.
Vehicles.
Supplies.
Normal ranch chaos.
I was carrying a heavy box when my boot caught on uneven ground.
The stumble happened fast.
One second I was walking.
The next I was losing balance.
Before I could recover, a familiar hand caught my elbow.
Steadying me instantly.
Ryder.
Of course.
The movement was automatic.
Instinctive.
Natural.
Exactly the kind of thing that would have gone unnoticed months ago.
Now it felt different.
Because neither of us immediately let go.
Only for a second.
Maybe two.
Enough.
When I looked up, Ryder's attention remained completely focused on me.
Concern.
Real concern.
Open and unguarded.
The expression vanished quickly.
Not quickly enough.
A voice sounded behind us.
"Everything okay?"
My stomach dropped.
I knew that voice.
Slowly, painfully slowly, I turned around.
My uncle stood twenty feet away.
Watching.
Not smiling.
Not frowning.
Just watching.
Which was considerably worse.
Ryder immediately stepped back.
Too late.
Way too late.
The damage was already done.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then my uncle looked directly at me.
The expression on his face had changed.
Subtly.
But enough.
The same expression he'd worn whenever he suspected I was hiding something as a teenager.
A terrifying expression.
One built entirely from experience.
And certainty.
"Interesting," he said.
The single word made my pulse spike.
Nothing about his tone sounded casual.
Nothing.
The conversation moved on.
Work resumed.
Life continued.
Yet I felt his attention throughout the entire day.
Watching.
Observing.
Thinking.
The realization settled heavily in my chest.
My uncle wasn't stupid.
Far from it.
And judging by the look he'd given us near the barn, he was starting to ask questions.
Questions I wasn't ready to answer.
Questions that could change everything.
Because for the first time since Ryder and I crossed that line, someone close to us had finally noticed.
And deep down, I knew it was only a matter of time before the truth came looking for us.
One More Night
The look on Oliver's uncle's face stayed with me all day.
Not because he'd said anything.
Because he hadn't.
Silence was usually more dangerous.
A man asking questions could be answered.
A man quietly putting pieces together was another problem entirely.
I spent most of the afternoon trying to focus on work.
The effort failed spectacularly.
Every time I looked across the ranch, I found myself searching for Oliver.
Every time I found him, I noticed the same thing.
He was thinking too.
The kid hid it better than he used to.
Not well enough.
By dinner, neither of us had mentioned what happened near the barn.
We didn't need to.
The tension sat between us.
Heavy.
Unspoken.
Real.
His uncle remained at the ranch house for the evening.
Talking with some of the older workers.
Sharing stories.
Watching.
Always watching.
The realization irritated me more than it should have.
Not because the man was wrong to be concerned.
If our positions were reversed, I'd probably be asking questions too.
The problem was timing.
For months, Oliver and I had lived inside our own small world.
The ranch.
The horses.
The stolen conversations.
The quiet moments.
Now reality was knocking on the door.
And reality had terrible timing.
After dinner, I finished paperwork later than usual.
The office felt smaller tonight.
The walls closer.
The silence heavier.
Eventually I gave up pretending I was accomplishing anything.
The numbers on the page blurred together.
My thoughts kept wandering elsewhere.
Toward a twenty-one-year-old artist who had somehow become the most important part of my day.
The realization should have been alarming.