Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Damian
I sat at my desk, the lamp casting a warm glow over the papers spread out in front of me, with feed invoices, vet schedules, and a scribbled list of repairs that never seemed to shrink.
The house was quiet with Cosmo and Christian gone, just the faint hum of the fridge downstairs and the occasional creak of the floorboards settling.
My coffee had gone cold an hour ago, but I kept sipping it anyway, and the bitter edge kept me sharp.
I rubbed my eyes, the numbers started to blur, and I leaned back in my chair and stretched my arms over my head.
It’d been a long day with fences checked, cattle moved, and now this endless paperwork.
I liked the work and the structure of it, but it wore me down sometimes.
The door creaked open, and I didn’t need to look up to know it was Geraldine. Her footsteps were light but deliberate, and she poked her head in, her hair loose and caught the light. “Hey, you,” she said, her voice bright, and cut through the stillness. “Are you still at it?”
“Yeah,” I said and dropped my pen, and glanced at her. She had on jeans and that red top from yesterday, and looked too good for a quiet night in. “I gotta keep this place running.”
“You’re gonna work yourself into the ground,” she said and stepped inside and leaned against the doorframe with a smirk. “Let me help. I’m bored out of my mind down there.”
“Nah,” I said and shook my head, and picked up the pen again. “I’ve got it. You don’t need to mess with this.”
“Come on,” she said and walked over and ignored me like she always did. “I’m not useless. I can sort papers or something. What’s all this anyway?”
“It’s just ranch stuff,” I said and shuffled the invoices into a pile. “Bills and schedules. Nothing exciting.”
“It sounds thrilling,” she said and plopped into the chair across from me and reached for a stack. “Give me something to do. I’m not leaving till you say yes.”
I snorted and leaned back and crossed my arms. “You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?”
“I’m proud of it,” she said and grinned and snagged a pen from the desk. “Now, what’s first? I’ll be your assistant. Call me Miss Secretary.”
“Miss Pain in My Ass,” I said, but I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “Fine. Sort those by date. Newest on top.”
“Easy,” she said and started flipping through the papers, her fingers quick and sure. “See? I’m a natural. You should’ve let me help hours ago.”
“I didn’t need you slowing me down,” I said, and grabbed another stack and marked off paid bills. “You’re too chatty.”
“And you’re too quiet,” she said and flicked a paper at me, light enough to flutter onto my lap. “Lucky for you, I balance it out.”
“Lucky,” I said and rolled my eyes, but I flicked the paper back, and she laughed loud and bright.
It bounced around the room, and I felt my shoulders loosen a little, the tension slipped.
She kept sorting and humming some tune I didn’t recognize, and now and then, she’d sneak a glance at me, her eyes teasing.
“You’re staring,” I said after a bit and caught her mid-look.
“I am not,” she said and stuck her tongue out, but her cheeks went pink. “I’m just checking if you’re still breathing over there.”
“Barely,” I said and smirked and leaned forward. “You’re distracting me now. Are you happy?”
“I’m very happy,” she said and tossed her sorted stack onto the desk, neat and perfect. “Look at that. I’m a pro. What’s next?”
“You’re relentless,” I said and pushed the vet schedules her way. “Match these to the calendar on the wall. Dates and names.”
“Bossy,” she said, and stood up and grabbed the papers, and sauntered to the calendar. “Yes, sir, Mr. Ranch Man.”
“Keep it up,” I said and watched her stretch to pin a note; her shirt rode up just enough to show a sliver of skin. “I’ll fire you.”
“You can’t fire me,” she said and turned and put her hands on her hips. “I’m too good. Admit it.”
“You’re alright,” I said and grinned and leaned back again. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late,” she said and stuck another note up and stepped back to admire her work. “I’m indispensable now. You’re stuck with me.”
“Great,” I said and rubbed my neck, the ache settled in deep. She finished the last schedule and flopped back into the chair and kicked her feet up on the desk like she owned it.
“Done,” she said and clapped her hands. “See? I told you I’d help. You’re welcome.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said and gathered the papers into a tidy stack. The desk looked better than it had all day. “Not bad, city girl.”
“High praise,” she said and smirked, and dropped her feet to the floor. “You’re softening up on me, Damian.”
“Don’t count on it,” I said, but I smiled, and she knew it. I pushed the chair back and stood and stretched again, my back popped loudly enough to make her wince.
“You’re falling apart,” she said and stood too and stepped around the desk. “Sit down before you break something.”
“I’m fine,” I said, but my legs felt heavy, and I dropped onto the couch by the window instead, the cushions sank under me. “I just need a minute.”
“Good,” she said and sat beside me, and was close enough that her knee bumped mine. “You’re done for the night. I’m calling it.”
“Bossy,” I said and leaned my head back, and closed my eyes. “You’re worse than Cosmo.”
“I’m better than Cosmo,” she said and shifted, her hand found mine on the cushion. Her fingers were warm and soft, and she laced them through mine and squeezed light. “I’m cuter.”
“Debatable,” I said and opened one eye and smirked at her. She laughed and leaned her head on my shoulder, her hair brushed my neck, and it felt good, maybe too good.
“Shut up,” she said and nestled closer, her voice softened. “You’re comfy for a grump.”
“I’m glad you think so,” I said and let my thumb rub over her knuckles, easy and slow. The room was quiet again, just our breathing and the faint tick of the clock on the wall, and I didn’t mind her being there, not one bit.
“Who are you, Damian?” she said after a minute, her voice low and almost a whisper. “I want to know you.”
I opened both eyes and looked down at her, her head still on my shoulder, and her face close. What does that mean?” I asked and tilted my head. “You’ve been here long enough.”
“Yeah,” she said and squeezed my hand again. “But I mean you. Not the ranch boss and not the guy who growls at Cosmo. The real you.”
I chuckled and shifted to face her a little better. “There’s not much to know,” I said. “I’m just me. I grew up here and took over when my dad couldn’t. That’s the story.”
“That’s the boring part,” she said and smiled small and sweet. “What about the rest? What makes you laugh? What keeps you up at night?”
“You’re nosy,” I said and grinned, but her look was steady, and I shrugged. “I laugh at dumb stuff like Cosmo falling in the mud and Christian getting kicked by a horse. What keeps me up? This place. There’s always something to fix.”
“See?” she said and smiled. “That’s a start. You’re not just a wall, you know.”
“Maybe not,” I said and rubbed my thumb over her hand again. “You’re digging deep for no reason.”
“There’s a reason,” she said and leaned her head back on my shoulder, her voice quieter now. “You’re worth knowing.”
I didn’t say anything for a beat and just sat there with her hand in mine, her weight warm against me. “You’re something else,” I said finally, my voice low. “You know that?”
“Yep,” she said and laughed soft, her breath tickled my neck. “And you like it.”
“I guess I do,” I said and let my head rest against hers, the tiredness faded a little. She stayed put, and I didn’t pull away, the moment stretched out simple and good. She wanted to know me, and maybe I’d let her, bit by bit.