Chapter 6 #2
His arm is around my waist—tight, almost possessive—but he hasn’t said a word since we mounted up. I’m stiff against his chest, hyperaware of every place our bodies touch, waiting for the speech.
This was a mistake. We work together. It can’t happen again.
I should beat him to it. Say it first. Take back some control.
But I can’t make myself form the words.
“Captain Winky’s going to expect a raise after today,” I say instead. “Hazard pay.”
It’s a weak joke. It falls flat between us.
Daniel doesn’t laugh.
More silence. The ranch lights appear in the distance, warm against the gray sky. Something in my chest tightens. Almost there. Almost done with this awkward purgatory.
“You should move to Stoneridge.”
I go rigid. “What?”
“The guest room. It’s closer to work, safer than that commute—”
“Are you kidding me?” I twist to look at him, and the movement makes Captain Winky sidestep. “We’re not even back yet, and you’re already telling me where to live?”
His jaw tightens. “I’m not telling you. I’m—”
“You literally just said ‘you should.’ That’s telling.”
“Fine. I’m suggesting—”
“No.” I turn back around, staring at the approaching ranch. “I’m not doing this. I’m not going to be your convenient—whatever. Close enough to fuck when you want but tucked away in a guest room so it’s not complicated."
“That’s not what I—”
“Then what? What is this, Daniel?” I hate how my voice shakes. “Because five minutes ago, you couldn’t get away from me fast enough, and now you want me living in your house?”
Silence.
His arm is still around my waist, but it feels different now. Tense. His whole body is rigid behind me.
“I’m trying,” he says finally, “to do this right.”
“Do what right?”
“This.” The word comes out rough. Frustrated. “You work for me. I’d be your landlord. I just—” He stops. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter. “I know what this looks like. I know what I look like. Another man with power over you, making demands.”
I don’t say anything. My heart pounds.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he continues. “I don’t know how to want you and be your boss. I don’t know how to keep you close without trapping you.” A pause. “I’m trying to figure out how to do this without becoming another person who takes your choices away.”
Oh.
Oh.
He wasn’t pulling away because he regretted it. He was pulling away because he was terrified of what he’d done. Of what he might do.
“That’s why you went cold,” I say slowly. “In the cabin. After.”
“I had you half-naked on a cot in a line shack.” His voice is harsh. “You work for me. You need this job. And I just—” He exhales. “I took advantage of the situation. Again.”
“You didn’t take advantage of anything.”
“Didn’t I?”
“I kissed you first.” I twist to look at him again, and this time I don’t care if Captain Winky objects. “I chose this. You asked me about fifteen times if I was sure. That’s not taking advantage.”
His jaw is still tight. “The power imbalance—”
“Is real,” I cut in. “I know it’s real. You’re my boss. If you become my landlord, if this goes wrong, I lose everything.” I hold his gaze. “I’m not an idiot, Daniel. I know the risks.”
“Then why—”
“Because I wanted to.” The words come out fiercer than I intended. “Because for once in my goddamn life, I wanted something for myself and I took it. Don’t turn that into something you did to me.”
He stares at me. The rigid tension in his shoulders shifts into something else. Something almost like wonder.
“You’re kind of terrifying,” he says. “You know that?”
“I’ve been told.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. Not quite a smile, but close.
“Move to Stoneridge,” he says again. But this time it sounds different. Less command, more request. “Please. Your own room. Your own space. Rent if you want—I don’t care about the money, but if it makes you feel better, fine.”
“And if this”—I gesture vaguely between us—“doesn't work out?”
“Then you still have a job and a place to live.” His arm tightens around my waist. “I’m not going to punish you for my mistakes, Delaney. That’s not who I am.”
I want to believe him. I want to so badly it scares me.
“I have conditions,” I say.
“Name them.”
“I pay rent. Market rate, not some token amount to make me feel better.”
“Done.”
“My own schedule. You don’t get to track my comings and goings.”
“I’ll try.” He pauses. “I can’t promise I won’t worry.”
“Worry quietly, then.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“And this—” I gesture between us again. “We figure it out as we go. No promises. No expectations. We see what happens.”
He’s quiet for a moment. Then: “I can’t promise I won’t want more.”
“I’m not asking you to promise that.”
“What are you asking?”
I turn back around and settle against his chest. His heart beats fast against my shoulder blade.
“I’m asking you to let me choose,” I say. “Every step. Even if it’s slow. Even if I get scared and pull back. Let me choose.”
His arm tightens. His breath stirs my hair.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I can do that.”
The ranch house draws close. Warm lights, solid walls, the promise of dry clothes and hot coffee.
“This is probably a terrible idea,” I murmur.
“Probably.”
“We’re going to make it weird at work.”
“Almost certainly.”
“Miss Maggie is going to be insufferable.”
“She’s already insufferable. This will just give her ammunition.”
I almost laugh. Almost.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll move to Stoneridge.”
“Yeah?”
“On my terms.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
We ride the rest of the way in silence. But this time it’s different. His thumb traces slow circles on my hip, and I’m not stiff against him anymore.
I don’t know if this is going to work. I don’t know if I can trust it. I’ve spent ten years learning that good things don’t last, that wanting leads to losing, that the safest thing is to never need anyone.
But his heart is steady against my back. His arm is solid around my waist. And for the first time in longer than I can remember, I’m not bracing for the fall.
I’m choosing to jump.