5. Danger
CHAPTER FIVE
danger
The kid’s got on rain boots and a pair of swimming goggles.
“Hey.” My voice bounces off the entryway. “Why you got rain boots on? Ain’t rainin’.”
Fisher weighs the question and slides his goggles up. “Nana says when my shins hurt, it’s gonna rain,” he says, and shrugs. “So, I’m prepared.”
Can’t argue with that logic. Mama’s been predicting storms with her arthritis since I was younger than him.
The ache in her hands starts a whole day before the forecast. By the time the weather app blinks red, she’s already baked bread and stockpiled the laundry.
Fisher’s hands are too small for calluses yet, but the gene’s strong. Maybe his shins don’t lie.
“Alright, weather man,” I say, folding my arms and leaning against the counter. “That covers boots. Explain the goggles.”
His frown deepens, and I see the gears turning. “If it rains real bad, gotta make sure I can still see.”
I almost laugh. There’s a split-second flicker at the edge of my mouth. “Real bad, huh.”
He nods.
“Get out there and feed the horses, Cyclops.” The smirk finds its way through. “I’ll meet you down there.”
He’s halfway out the door when I call after him. “Oh, by the way. Heard you got a new feed helper.”
He skids to a stop.
“Winnie?” he asks.
“Yeah. You’re the boss, right?”
Fisher turns slowly, considering this like a man offered a promotion. “I am?”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
He nods solemnly. “Too late. It’s in my head.”
Then, after a moment: “Can I make rules?”
“You do you, bud.”
He grins. “This is gonna be awesome.”
He’s gone before I can respond.
I grab my phone off the counter, but I don’t start typing until I see the kid run past the window to the barn.
Danger
Need a few more eyes on my house
Don’t care if we have to hire extra guards
Rylee comes anywhere near Fisher, I want to know first
Rogue
On it
Already got a team rotating shifts
I stare at the last message and wonder if I need to push it further.
Instead, I thumb the phone locked and shove it in my pocket.
World’s falling apart, and the only person with sense around here is wearing goggles.
The porch creaks as I step outside. If there’s a rain coming, I hope it brings enough noise to drown the thoughts clawing around in my skull.
Fisher’s already inside the barn when I get there, probably swinging around the feed bucket. The horses love him—they watch nearby with ears up and eyes alert. I hang back, leaning against the railing.
The barn doors push open as one of our ranch hands moves out, and I don’t hear Fisher like I expect. Instead, there’s a laugh. Not his. It’s too high, too bright.
Winnie’s in the barn with Fisher. And to be honest, I’m surprised she showed up.
She’s managed to put on some old flannel—dark green, sleeves rolled to the elbow—and she’s tied it at the waist to make it fit her better.
Her hair’s up in a high ponytail, strands leaking everywhere.
And she’s got on boots, but they look like they’ve never seen a day of real labor.
But here she is, both hands buried in feed, trying to follow Fisher’s instructions.
He’s correcting her. Patient as hell—something he doesn’t get from me. “She’ll choke if you don’t spread it out,” he tells her, and she does as he says.
“You sure are good at this, buddy,” Winnie says, grinning at him like he just solved world hunger. She’s got a smear of grain dust on her cheek and has no idea it’s there.
I stay put, arms crossed. She hasn’t noticed me, and I don’t plan to announce myself. Easier to observe without interfering. My gut says don’t trust her. Don’t trust any woman—especially not ones who start tryin’ to make themselves useful before you figure out what they really want.
Fisher giggles at something she says, and it hits me right in the gut—harder than I want to admit.
Especially with Rylee back in town. His mama had six years to hear that laugh, six years to know the best damn kid there is.
But she walked away instead. No warning.
No fight. Just a note on the counter and a diaper bag she didn’t pack. Said I’d do a better job without her.
I did. At least I did the best I could.
So, why the hell is she back now?
Winnie looks up and catches me in the doorway. For a moment, she freezes. Then she wipes her hands on her jeans and plants a hand on her hip.
“Didn’t think you’d show,” I say.
“You always this friendly before coffee, or just something I bring out in you?”
“Friendly’s a strong word. And I already had my coffee.”
She glances at Fisher, who shrugs. “How did something so cute come from something so stubborn?” she asks.
“The cute just picked me,” Fisher says.
“Well, if the perks of the job come with a cutie like you around, this won’t be too bad,” Winnie teases Fisher.
Fisher tries to play it cool. “Some say it’s their favorite part of the job.”
I catch myself staring at the way Winnie and Fisher are workin’ together, both laughing over something small and stupid, like they’ve been doing this forever—like she already somehow belongs in this picture.
“D, you keep staring at her like that, she’s gonna start charging you.” Charming slides in behind me and reaches for a carrot to hand to one of the horses.
“Ain’t staring,” I say, but even to my own ears, it’s not convincing. “Just makin’ sure she don’t break anything.”
Charming cocks an eyebrow, carrot already half gone. “Mhm. Bet you want her to break somethin’, alright. How you think Trouble’s gonna feel about that?”
“Fuck off. It’s not like that. Got enough problems on this ranch. Don’t need more.”
“Right,” Charming says, glancing over at Fisher. “And what are you gonna do about Rylee?”
“Don’t know yet.” I snatch down a saddle. “Hoping she takes the hint and leaves town.”
“She came all this way, D. She ain’t leaving empty-handed.”
“Then we keep our eyes open. Fisher comes first, and we gotta protect him.” I look back at the kid. He’s trying to hold a horse still while Winnie fumbles with the bridle. He’s happy. He’s safe. That’s all that matters.
“Well, you could stand to relax a little… looks like he sure likes havin’ her around.” Charming jerks his chin toward Winnie, who’s doing her best to braid a chunk of horse mane while Fisher coaches her.
I don’t say anything, just watch.
Most women, besides Mama, don't last round here—twist an ankle in the mud, call an Uber, and vanish. So, I’m waiting for the part where she folds.
She finishes the braid, laughs when it unravels, and starts again with too much goddamn patience. She’s got hands that learn quickly and a face that softens real easy around Fisher. That’s not good.
Charming and I finish turnin’ out the horses, and for exactly five seconds, everything is peaceful. Then there’s a crash followed by Fisher’s sharp cry.
Every muscle in me locks up.
Before I can reach the gate, Winnie’s already there—kneeling in the mud beside him. One of his boots is caught between the slats, leg twisted wrong as he’s trying to free himself, his face blotchy with held-back tears.
“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t move,” she says, calm and quick. She studies the gate for half a second, then works the latch loose with both hands. “There. Try now—slowly.”
Fisher eases his foot free. He winces, but it comes loose. Winnie steadies him with a hand on his shoulder, brushing mud from his jeans.
“See? You’re okay,” she says, softly. “Almost lost a leg. Which means you’re gonna have a cool story to tell later.”
He sniffles before laughing. The tension in his shoulders eases.
I stop short a few steps away from the gate, out of breath and thrown. She handled it—without flinching, without waiting. Just…did it.
I didn't ask her to. She didn’t even look around for help. Just took care of him.
Charming comes up behind me, voice low. “See. Chill out. She helped him. Might try sayin’ thank you.”
“He doesn’t need to get attached,” I say, watching as she steadies Fisher when he stumbles. “That’s not fair to him. This isn’t permanent. She can’t help out Mama forever.”
Fisher wraps his arms around her neck without a second thought—muddy boots and all—and she laughs, easy and genuine.
Charming exhales through his nose. “You gonna explain that to him?”
I turn away, jaw tight.
She’s Trouble’s past. She’s good with my kid. But she’s only here helpin’ Mama. Temporary.
Fisher can’t go gettin’ attached to his uncle’s ex-girlfriend.
That’s not how this works.