Chapter 3
Vanessa
Vanessa stared at the three names and phone numbers written in Dustin's surprisingly neat handwriting, her coffee growing cold as she debated whether to make the calls.
She'd been sitting at her kitchen table for twenty minutes, phone in hand, trying to convince herself this was just standard due diligence and not an excuse to learn more about the man who'd scrambled her brain yesterday afternoon.
The smart thing would be to call the insurance adjuster first. Get his information, set up an appointment, choose the safe option. But every time she looked at his business card, she thought about Dustin's smile and the way he'd looked at her house like it was special instead of just adequate.
The way he'd looked at her like she was special.
They'd spent half an hour together. Half an hour, and she was sitting here at her kitchen table feeling like a lovesick teenager instead of a twenty-nine-year-old woman who should know better.
Her laptop chimed with another job rejection email.
Thank you for your interest in the position.
While your qualifications are impressive, we've decided to move forward with other candidates.
She deleted it without reading the rest and dialed the first number on Dustin's list before she could talk herself out of it.
"Campbell Ranch, this is Roy."
"Mr. Campbell? This is Vanessa Baldwin. I'm calling about a reference for Dustin Fleming."
"Dustin? Hell, he's a solid guy. What's he gotten himself into now?"
Solid guy. The man who'd filled up her living room yesterday was definitely more than solid. "He's applied to rent a room from me. I just wanted to check on his reliability as a tenant."
"Always paid his rent on time, kept the place clean, never caused any trouble. Only reason he left was because he needed to be closer to the circuit."
"The circuit?"
"Rodeo circuit. He's got talent, real talent. Been watching him compete for about five years now, and he's got the kind of natural ability you can't teach. Shame about the ankle, but he'll bounce back. Always does."
She made notes as he talked, though what she really wanted to ask was whether Dustin had ever brought women around, whether he'd seemed like the settling-down type, whether Roy thought he was the kind of man who'd disappear in the middle of the night without paying what he owed.
Whether Roy thought Dustin might feel the same insane pull she'd felt yesterday.
"How long did he live on your property?"
"About eight months. Longest he'd stayed anywhere in a while, from what I could tell. He's not much for putting down roots, that one, but he's honest and decent. If you need a tenant, you could do a lot worse."
Not much for putting down roots. The words should have been a warning.
Should have reminded her that getting involved with a man who didn't stay was the fastest way to get her heart broken.
But instead, she was thinking about those eight months, wondering what it would take to make Dustin Fleming stay longer.
Wondering if maybe she could be that reason.
After she hung up, she called the veterinarian.
Dr. Patterson was professional and direct.
"Dustin's one of my favorite clients. That horse of his is his whole world, and he takes better care of Thunder than most people take care of their children.
He's never missed an appointment, always pays his bills, and he actually listens to veterinary advice, which is rarer than you'd think. "
A man who loved his horse that much. A man who took care of the things that mattered to him. Vanessa added that to the growing list of things she was learning about Dustin Fleming, the list that was making it harder to pretend she was making a rational business decision.
"He mentioned boarding the horse nearby."
"Yes, at Riverside Stables. About a mile from where you are, I think. It's a good facility, and Dustin chose it specifically because they have rehabilitation services. He's very focused on making sure Thunder stays healthy and sound."
The third call was to Bill Tracy, the sponsor.
"You thinking about renting to Fleming?" Bill's voice was gravelly, like he'd spent too many years around arena dust and cigarette smoke. "Smart move. He's got integrity, which is more than I can say for half the riders I work with."
"What's he like as a person? I mean, away from the rodeo."
"Keeps to himself mostly. Never been one to cause trouble or get mixed up in the drama that follows some of these boys around. He's focused, professional, treats this sport like a business instead of just a party."
"And his future plans? Is he planning to keep competing?"
Bill was silent for a moment. "That's probably a conversation you should have with him. But I will say this. Dustin's not stupid. He knows he can't do this forever, and he's smart enough to have a backup plan. Question is whether he's ready to use it."
After the calls, she sat back in her chair and stared at her notes. Three references, three glowing recommendations, and absolutely zero help in talking herself out of the feelings that had been building since Dustin walked through her door yesterday.
Because that's what she'd been hoping for, wasn't it? Some red flag, some warning sign, some reason to choose the boring insurance adjuster instead of the cowboy who made her heart race.
But all she'd gotten was confirmation that Dustin Fleming was exactly what he appeared to be. Honest. Reliable. A man who took care of his responsibilities and didn't cause trouble.
A man who lived his life in eight-month increments and had never stayed anywhere long enough to build anything lasting.
Her phone rang. "Vanessa? It's Mom."
"Hi, Mom." She closed her laptop before her mother could ask about the job search.
"I was just calling to check on you. How are things going with the interviews?"
"Fine. Good. I'm exploring some options." Standard deflection. Her mother had been asking the same question for three weeks, and Vanessa had been giving the same non-answer.
"Your father thinks you should consider moving back home for a while. Just until you get back on your feet."
Back home. To the town where she'd grown up watching her parents fight about money, where everyone would know she'd failed at the life she'd built for herself, where she'd have to sleep in her childhood bedroom and pretend everything was fine.
"I'm managing, Mom. Actually, I'm thinking about taking in a renter to help with expenses."
"A renter? Vanessa, you don't know anything about being a landlord. What if they don't pay? What if they damage the house? What if they're dangerous?"
Dangerous. The word stuck in her throat.
Not because she thought Dustin was dangerous to her safety, but because she was beginning to realize he was dangerous to everything else.
To her walls. To her need to stay independent.
To her conviction that love at first sight was just something that happened in the romance novels on her bookshelf.
"I've checked references. It'll be fine."
"I don't like this. A single woman living alone with a strange man? It's not safe."
"It's not like that, Mom. He'd be renting the downstairs room, and we'd barely see each other."
The lie tasted bitter. They'd be sharing a kitchen, a living room, the kind of spaces where you ran into each other constantly.
Where she'd see him first thing in the morning with sleep-mussed hair and yesterday's stubble.
Where they'd navigate around each other making coffee and breakfast and all the small intimacies that came with sharing space.
Where she'd drive herself crazy wondering if he was thinking about her the way she was thinking about him.
"What does he do for work?"
Vanessa looked at her notes. Rodeo cowboy. Professional risk-taker. Man who made his living getting thrown by animals that weighed ten times what he did. Man who'd looked at her yesterday like she was the most interesting thing he'd seen in months.
"He's in entertainment."
"Entertainment? Like an actor?"
"Something like that. Look, Mom, I should go. I have some things to take care of."
After she hung up, she walked through the house, trying to see it through Dustin's eyes.
The living room where he'd sat yesterday, taking in her furniture and her framed degree.
The kitchen where they'd share morning coffee and conversations that would probably start out awkward and turn into something more.
The hallway that led to the bedroom that would be his, with its own entrance to the patio where he could come and go without disturbing her.
Where he could bring women without disturbing her.
The jealousy that shot through her at the thought was so sharp it nearly made her gasp. She pressed her hand to her stomach, trying to breathe through it. He wasn't hers. He'd never be hers. He was a tenant, and she was his landlord, and what he did in his private life was none of her business.
But God, the thought of him with someone else made her want to throw something.
She had no claim on him. No right to care who he brought home or what he did in his spare time. He'd be a tenant, nothing more. A business arrangement.
Except her traitorous heart was already imagining something else entirely. Already picturing what it would be like if he looked at her the way he'd looked at her yesterday every single day. If those brown eyes followed her around her own kitchen. If that smile was meant just for her.
Her phone buzzed with a text from her sister: Any updates on the renter search? Please tell me you found someone normal.
Normal. The insurance adjuster was normal. The bank manager was normal. They were safe, predictable, the kind of tenants who would pay their rent on time and never make her wonder what they looked like first thing in the morning or whether they slept in boxers or briefs or nothing at all.