TWELVE. #2
She shakes her head gently. “But doesn’t that make you feel like if you ever wanted to leave, you couldn’t?”
I tilt my head, studying her. “Are you planning to fire me?”
“No! No…” She leans forward, elbows on her knees. “I’m just… I don’t know. You do a lot for the ranch. I can’t imagine the weight you feel on your shoulders. If I were in your position… I don’t know. If I ever wanted to leave, I’d feel bad for leaving such a big role to the next person.”
I watch her carefully. “Are we talking about me, or you?”
She stares for a moment, then huffs out a breath and flops back into the couch, eyes fixed on the ceiling. I take the opportunity to let my gaze wander down the line of her nose, along her jaw, the way her hair falls just behind her ear.
“I really like it here,” she says quietly, but there’s a note of defeat in her tone. “I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m really trying.”
“We’ll make it through the season,” I offer, and her eyes flicker down to meet mine. “We have a few nice calves, and horses we can line up. Aspen is expecting any day now. We have options if we need to cut back.”
“I know.” She pushes herself up to sit straighter, eyes finding mine easily now.
“I’ve just never been responsible for anything like this…
or anything, for that matter. I’m not used to having to be…
an adult.” She chuckles nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I honestly don’t know why Linda left this to me.
She probably should have left it to you. ”
“Probably,” I admit, and she chuckles again, softer this time. Getting her to laugh is quickly becoming my favorite thing. “You’re doing fine.”
“I haven’t really done much though,” she says, eyes drifting from mine to scan the room again. Then they stop, focusing on something. “Is that a walkie?”
I follow her gaze to the walkie sitting in the middle of the coffee table and I wince inwardly. I should have hidden that before inviting her in.
She turns her eyes back to me, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Do you always have that on you?”
“It’s more of a habit, at this point,” I say, and both her eyebrows lift now.
“I always kept it on for Linda. If something ever happened and I wasn’t around, I wanted her to feel like she could always reach me.
Seeing her alone there…” I trail off, shaking my head at the memory.
I used to hate knowing Linda was by herself on that ranch, and it’s no different with Ever.
“So if I ever needed to call—” she starts.
“Channel two,” I tell her.
Her eyes linger on mine, unflinching. “Channel two,” she repeats, her voice quiet now.
A moment of silence goes by, our eyes lingering like we’re betting on who might break the tension.
“In case you’re worried about it,” I start. “You should know I’m not planning on leaving anytime soon.”
“That’s good to know,” she replies, and I notice her shoulders visibly relax, her body sinking deeper into the couch cushions as if a weight has just lifted. Then she grins—small, teasing, genuine. “I can’t imagine a sixteen-year-old you working here in high school.”
“You came here as a kid, right?” I ask, already knowing the answer. She nods. “Then you remember Val? The old ranch hand?”
She nods again, eyes curious.
“He was Ruben’s uncle. His mom used to send him here for the summers to keep him out of trouble, and I’d tag along for a few days when I was bored.”
“You used to come here as a kid?” Her eyes widen with wonder, and I nod slowly. Maybe now she’ll start to piece it together. Maybe she’ll finally figure out who I am.
“That’s…” she starts, and I watch her gaze flicker over my face, but she doesn’t finish the thought.
Now would definitely be the time to tell her. Get it out and lay it all bare, but I can’t. Because what if it meant nothing to her? What would happen after the admission?
“Were you a troublemaker too?” she asks instead.
“Oh yeah,” I say without hesitation.
She smirks. “But you’re so serious and grumpy all the time.”
“Why is everyone calling me grumpy lately?” I ask, genuinely curious. She raises her eyebrows, mouth opening like she’s about to answer, then she just laughs.
“I don’t even know what to tell you.” I find myself grinning. “You’re a bit of a jerk sometimes.”
“So are you,” I shoot back quickly, before I can think better of it. I bite my tongue, ready to apologize or take back the retort, but she inhales sharply in mock offense.
“I’m offended,” she says happily. “It’s only because you deserve it, and no one else is willing to fight back.”
I trace every line of her face. If we go back to being enemies tomorrow, this is how I want to remember her—relaxed, teasing, letting me see the real her without armor.
“I’ll stop if you want me to,” I offer.
“I don’t think you’re capable.”
“I could try.”
“I’m not sure I’d like you as much if you did,” she says. We stare at each other for a long moment—testing, daring, seeing who blinks first. Then she does. “I should probably get going,” she says quickly, then stands up.
I want to tell her she doesn’t have to leave, that she can stay as long as she wants, that I’ve been waiting for a conversation like this. But she’s already moving toward the door. I stand slowly, searching for something—anything—to keep her here, to get closer, to let her in.
“Thanks for talking with me,” she says as she reaches the door. Then turns and tilts her head back to look up at me. “And sorry for showing up. I didn’t mean to bother you on your day off. It won’t happen again.”
“You could show up in the middle of the night asking for a cup of sugar and I wouldn’t mind,” I say. My eyes drop to her cheeks as they flush a new shade of pink, then lower to her lips.
“What would I do with a cup of sugar?” she asks quietly.
I drag my gaze back up to her eyes with a small shrug. “Maybe you’ll take up baking.”
“The farmers market doesn’t need any more sweets,” she says, her voice raspy now, like she’s struggling to find it. “Anyway…” She clears her throat. “I’ll get out of here.”
She turns quickly and pulls the handle, but I press my palm against the door before it can open more than a few inches. It shuts with a soft click. Her body freezes and I can tell she’s breathing hard as she looks at me over her shoulder.
“What’s the deal with you and Caden?” I ask. I told myself I’d stay out of it, but I have to know.
“What do you mean ‘what’s the deal’?” she asks, turning her shoulders. I keep my hand pressed to the door, caging her in on one side. “Nothing’s going on.”
“You sure? Because the two of you have been hanging out an awful lot lately,” I say, but what surprises me is that she grins.
I drop my hand from the door and let it fall to my side. “You do know he’s dating someone, right?”
My eyes narrow on her. “Who?” She grins a little wider, and when she doesn’t answer my mind races straight to the only person it could be. “Is it Serena?”
“How did you know?”
I exhale, tension easing from my shoulders. “It’s pretty obvious she likes him. I thought he’d never ask her out.”
“You knew this whole time?” Her voice rises. “Why didn’t you tell him?”
“He didn’t know?” I ask, genuinely thrown.
I assumed it was clear to everyone, including Caden. Every time Serena shows up at the ranch, she’s looking for him, asking if he’s around. And the way she flirts with me has always felt like a roundabout way to get his attention.
“I can’t believe you left him in the dark like that,” she says, shaking her head. “He was a mess the last time she was here.”
“About that,” I start. She leans back against the door so she doesn’t have to crane her neck so much to look at me. “Why were you wrestling?”
“I already told you,” she says, stubbornness creeping back into her tone.
“And that’s the real reason?”
“Yes,” she insists. “He pinned me to the ground in less than ten seconds. It’s embarrassing.”
My jaw clenches hard. She has no idea how badly I want to pin her against this door right now—grab her wrists, raise them above her head, press my body flush against hers until she feels exactly how much she’s been driving me out of my mind.
“Tobias,” she whispers. I lean in without thinking, drawn to her lips, at the sound of my name on them.
“Hmm?” I murmur.
When I reach for her hips, she doesn’t stop me. My fingertips press into her sides, trailing around to her back as I pull her closer. Her hands land on my chest—hesitant for half a second—then they slide up to my shoulders.
That’s all it takes.
I kiss her hard. Her lips move against mine immediately, then her fingers thread into my hair and she pulls me down. I reach down and grip her thighs, then lift her up.
She gasps against my mouth as she wraps her legs around my waist, locking me against her center. I groan into the kiss and press her against the door. Her fingers tighten in my hair, so I bite down on her bottom lip.
I rock my hips forward, reach up and grab her wrists, and pin them above her head against the wood. Her head falls back with a soft thud, back arching into me. I lean back just enough to look at her—eye level now, flushed and breathing hard, lips swollen from mine.
My gaze drops between us, to the lack of space, to how much closer I want to be. But then she unwraps her legs. I release her wrists so she can slide down and her feet hit the floor.
“I should go,” she whispers, voice rough.
My mind is frazzled. I can’t think straight, can’t process what she’s doing.
And before I can speak, she turns, pulls the door open, and slips out.
In a blink she’s halfway to her car and all I can do is stand frozen in the doorway, staring as she climbs in, starts the engine, and drives off.
Dust kicking up behind Gladys as she disappears down the road.
What the fuck was I thinking?