7
Talia found Luke’s office from the patio side, exactly the way Gordon had told her to.
She stood outside the glass door for a few seconds, one hand lifted but not knocking yet.
Through the panes, she could see Luke Stanley seated behind his desk, head bent over a file, reading glasses low on his nose.
Sunlight fell across the polished wood, making the whole room look calm and expensive and entirely too controlled.
Gordon was not inside.
That made her stomach dip.
She had expected him to be there. Not because he had promised to soften anything, but because his presence gave this arrangement structure. Without him, she was only a woman standing at the door of a powerful man she had lied to.
Talia inhaled.
Then she knocked.
Luke lifted his head. His eyes met hers through the glass.
For one sharp second, she felt like every bad decision she had made had been written across her forehead.
He set the file down. “Come in.”
Talia opened the door and stepped inside. “Mr. Stanley.”
“Luke,” he said, though his tone did not make the correction warm.
“Luke,” she repeated.
“Have a seat.”
She crossed to the chair in front of his desk and sat, keeping her back straight, her hands clasped over the notebook in her lap.
He did not speak right away.
That was worse than anger.
Luke Stanley had the kind of silence that made people want to confess things he had not asked about yet.
Talia cleared her throat. “I want to apologize for the way I approached this.”
“No.”
She blinked. “No?”
Luke leaned back in his chair. “Not yet.”
Heat rose to her cheeks. “I only meant to say that I know I handled it badly.”
“I know what you meant.” His gaze stayed steady. “But I’m not interested in making you feel better before we’re clear on why you’re here.”
Talia’s fingers tightened around her notebook.
“All right.”
“The only reason you’re on this ranch is because Gordon wanted you here.”
“I understand.”
“I hope you do.” Luke’s voice was calm, which somehow made the words heavier. “You came into my home under false pretenses. You sat in this office with my wife and me and presented yourself as an applicant for a position you did not actually want.”
“I did want access,” she said quietly.
Luke’s eyes hardened. “That is not the same thing.”
“No. It isn’t.”
“You should not be surprised if people aren’t open or friendly with you.”
“I’m not.”
“They’ll be civil. I expect that from my family and everyone who works here.” He paused. “But everyone knows what you tried to do.”
Talia looked down for half a second, then forced herself to meet his eyes again.
“Good,” he said, as if the looking back counted for something. “You don’t get to hide from that.”
“I’m not trying to.”
“See that you don’t.”
The room felt smaller than it had a few days ago. Then, she had sat here pretending to be composed, qualified, and harmless. Now there was no pretending left. Luke had stripped the situation down to its bones within three minutes.
Talia swallowed. “I don’t want to hurt Gordon.”
Luke’s face did not soften.
“If you do anything to hurt Gordon,” he said, “I will buy the paper and shut it down just to prove the point that you don’t mess with my family.”
The breath left her lungs.
For one wild second, she thought he might be exaggerating.
Then she looked at his face and knew better.
This was not a threat tossed out in anger. It was a simple declaration from someone who had the money, pride, and protective instincts to make her editor’s life a crater if she crossed the wrong line.
Talia’s voice came out low. “I understand.”
“I hope so.”
“And I meant what I said. I don’t want to hurt him.”
Luke studied her.
“Wanting is easy.”
“Yes,” she said. “I know.”
“Do you?”
Her throat tightened. “I think I’m starting to.”
For the first time, something almost human flickered in his expression. Not trust. Not forgiveness. Maybe acknowledgement.
Before either of them could say more, the office door opened.
Gordon stepped in.
Talia turned toward him too quickly, then wished she had not. He looked like work had already claimed him for the day and she was merely the next task on the list.
His gaze moved from Luke to Talia.
“Are we good to go?”
Talia did not rise immediately.
She looked to Luke first.
She was not making the mistake of assuming the conversation was finished just because she wanted it to be.
Luke noticed.
So did Gordon.
Luke gave one short nod. “We’re finished.”
Talia stood. “Thank you.”
Luke did not say she was welcome.
Fair enough.
Gordon stepped aside to let her pass, then led the way through the hall toward the kitchen. Talia followed with her notebook tucked against her chest, aware of the back of him, the shape of his shoulders, the quiet power in the way he walked.
She hated that she noticed.
She hated more that she wanted to keep noticing.
Attraction is irrelevant.
She was going to wear that sentence out before the week ended.
The kitchen was warmer than the rest of the house, alive with the smell of bread, onions, coffee, and something sweet cooling near the window.
It looked less like a room and more like the operational heart of the ranch.
Pots hung in their places. Counters were clear except for active work areas.
A long table stood to one side, already set with folded towels, bowls, and a pitcher of tea.
A woman stood near the stove, stirring something in a pot with the posture of a queen defending her territory.
Elise.
Talia knew it before Gordon said her name.
An older man sat at the table peeling apples with a small knife, each strip of peel curling neatly into a bowl. Earl, she assumed. He looked up when they entered, eyes quiet and assessing.
“Elise,” Gordon said, “this is Talia Monroe. Talia, Elise Hardin.”
Elise set the spoon down, wiped her hands on a towel, and turned.
“Talia.”
Her voice was not unkind.
It was not warm either.
“Mrs. Hardin,” Talia said.
“Elise. If you call me Mrs. Hardin every time, I’ll think you’re either scared of me or trying to sell me something.”
Gordon’s mouth twitched.
Talia nodded. “Elise.”
“And that’s Earl,” Gordon said.
Earl lifted one hand. “Ma’am.”
“Talia,” she said.
He nodded once. “Talia.”
Civil.
Exactly as promised.
Not hostile, but not welcoming either.
Elise looked her over in a way that made Talia regret every crease in her shirt and every secret she had ever had. “Gordon tells me you’ll be staying a while.”
“Yes.”
“And writing.”
“Yes.”
“Hm.”
Talia had never heard one syllable carry so much judgment and restraint.
Elise picked up a folded towel and set it on the counter. “Kitchen rules.”
Talia straightened. “Of course.”
“First, cooking is done by a select few.”
Gordon leaned against the edge of the counter, arms loosely crossed, as if he had heard this speech before and enjoyed it every time.
Elise continued, “This is not because I think you can’t cook. I don’t know you well enough to insult you accurately yet.”
Earl coughed into his fist.
Talia pressed her lips together.
Elise pointed toward the stove. “If you want something specific, ask. If you have allergies, dislikes, or some strange city food habit, say so before I make a meal and not after you’ve picked at it like a sad bird.”
“I don’t have allergies.”
“Good. Dislikes?”
Talia hesitated. “Liver.”
Elise nodded. “Reasonable.”
Gordon glanced at her. “That one’s universal.”
“Second,” Elise said, ignoring him, “if it is not mealtime and you mess up a dish, cup, pan, spoon, plate, or anything else in this kitchen, you clean it. Not later. Not when you remember. Then.”
“I can do that.”
“You will do that.”
Talia nodded. “I will.”
Elise studied her another second, then gave a small nod that felt like temporary permission to continue breathing. “Good.”
Earl set another apple peel into the bowl. “Coffee’s usually there.” He nodded toward the counter. “Cups above it.”
It was the first useful kindness anyone had offered her since she arrived.
Talia looked at him. “Thank you.”
He only nodded and went back to peeling apples.
The kitchen door opened from the hall, and Edye entered with Malik on her hip.
Talia had seen Edye polished and gracious in the interview. This Edye was still polished, but the softness had been pulled back. She was polite. Perfectly polite. A woman could cut herself on that kind of polite.
“Talia,” Edye said.
“Edye.”
“I hope the bunkhouse is comfortable.”
“It is. Thank you.”
“You’ll let us know if you need linens or anything practical.”
“I will.”
Edye nodded.
Malik, however, had no interest in politeness. The moment he spotted Gordon, his whole face lit up.
“Gordy!”
Gordon’s expression changed so fast Talia almost forgot to breathe.
The guarded man standing beside her disappeared, or maybe he opened. His eyes warmed. His mouth softened. He pushed away from the counter as Malik reached for him with both hands.
“Hey, little man.”
Edye shifted Malik toward him, and Gordon took the baby with practiced ease.
The child settled against him like he belonged there.
Talia’s notebook lowered slightly.
Gordon bounced Malik once on his arm. “You been keeping everybody in line?”
Malik spoke clearly. I keep everybody in line, ‘cept for momma and daddy.
Gordon nodded like it made perfect sense. “That so?” The only people who had broken through his wall with ease were the children on the ranch. Gordon never shied away from them.
Edye smiled despite herself. “He has been very busy.”
Malik reached for Gordon’s hat.
Gordon tipped his head down. “You want it?”
Malik grabbed at the brim.
Gordon removed the hat and set it carefully on the boy’s head. It slipped low over Malik’s eyes.
Malik squealed.
The sound filled the kitchen with joy so sudden that even Elise’s face softened.
Gordon laughed under his breath and lifted the brim so Malik could see. “There you are. Now you look ready to work.”
Malik slapped both hands on the crown of the hat.
Earl looked up from the apples. “Hat’s bigger than he is.”
“He’ll grow into it,” Gordon said.
“He’d better not grow that fast,” Edye said.
Gordon looked at Malik. “Your dad bought you a new horse, didn’t he?”
Malik smiled and nodded.
Talia looked toward Edye. “His dad bought him a horse?”
Edye’s smile turned private and fond. “Technically, Luke bought a very gentle pony and has been calling it a horse so Malik feels important.”
Gordon leaned closer to Malik. “Your dad knows better than to call your horse little, doesn’t he?”
Malik patted Gordon’s cheek.
Gordon went still for half a second, then smiled.
Not the almost-smile he had given Talia.
A real one.
Tender.
Unprotected.
It moved through her before she could stop it.
This was the man the article would be about?
Not only the Windgate son.
Not only the subject with a damaged family name.
This man, holding a baby in a kitchen, letting tiny hands steal his hat, speaking with a softness that made every hard line in him seem earned rather than cold.
Talia looked down at her notebook.
Do not romanticize the subject.
Rule one.
Rule two should have been avoid watching him with children, apparently.
Edye stepped closer. “All right, sweetheart. Gordon has to go.”
Malik immediately tightened his hands in Gordon’s shirt.
Gordon looked at him with exaggerated seriousness. “I’ve got work.”
Malik objected loudly.
“I know,” Gordon said. “Terrible management decision.”
Eli was not even in the room, but Talia could hear his kind of humor echoing faintly in Gordon’s tone.
Edye reached for Malik. “Come to Mama.”
Malik leaned away from her and reached for Gordon again.
Something in Talia’s chest pulled tight.
Gordon kissed the top of Malik’s head before handing him back to Edye.
The gesture was quick.
Natural.
Almost hidden.
Talia saw it anyway.
Malik immediately reached for Gordon’s hat, still on his head.
Gordon took it back gently. “I need this.”
Malik whined.
“You have a horse,” Gordon told him. “Don’t be greedy.”
Elise snorted.
Edye settled Malik on her hip, though he continued leaning toward Gordon.
Gordon put his hat back on, brim low enough to hide whatever had passed across his face.
Then he turned toward Talia.
“Come on.”
No explanation.
No lingering.
He was done with the room and moving toward the front door before Talia had time to thank Elise, acknowledge Earl, or make another attempt at civility.
She managed a quick, “Thank you,” to the kitchen in general.
Elise only nodded.
Earl lifted the knife slightly in farewell.
Edye watched her with Malik still reaching for Gordon over her shoulder.
Talia followed him out through the front door into the bright ranch daylight.
Gordon did not look back.
But she did.
Just once.
Through the glass, she saw Malik still reaching after him, Edye murmuring something against his hair, Elise turning back to the stove, Earl peeling apples at the table.
A kitchen.
A family.
A life she had tried to enter through a lie.
Talia tightened her grip on her notebook and stepped off the porch after Gordon.
Her investigation had started.
But already, she knew the story would not be as simple as the one she had planned to write.