“Folki?” Daisy asked.
“A goose,” Claire said. “Keeps shoving her head through the gap.”
We laughed. Claire ushered us inside. “Chase will grab your bags.”
“I can manage,” I said.
“I assume you’ll share the guest room?” Claire asked, looking between us.
“Yes,” Daisy said quickly, giving me a crooked look.
Chase joined us, hand extended. “Name’s Chaseka. Most call me Chase.” His grip was calm, solid. He carried an easy certainty.
“Welcome to the ranch,” he said.
“Thank you for having me. It’s beautiful.” I meant it.
“Friends of Daisy’s are friends of ours,” Chase said, pulling Daisy into a hug. “Come here, kiddo. How long’s it been?”
“Feels like forever.”
“I’d say you should show your—”
“Boyfriend,” Claire supplied. “Damian is Daisy’s boyfriend.”
“Oh. I thought you were her boss?”
“I’m both,” I said.
“You landed your boss? Not bad, Daisy.” Chase teased with a playful pinch at her waist. Her cheeks flushed.
“Well, you can give Damian a tour. Tonight we’ll barbecue outside.”
“That sounds great,” Daisy said.
Her parents’ house was a warm, rustic country home, vibrant with color. Dreamcatchers and shimmering crystals hung everywhere, swaying from fine threads in front of the windows, scattering sunlight into rainbow fragments across the room. The walls were lined with artwork—pieces her mother or Chase had made.
“We have fresh lemonade, soda, and some fruit juices,” Claire called as she disappeared into the kitchen. “What will you have?”
“Soda,” Daisy and I answered at the same time.
“Coming right up!”
I let my eyes wander. “It’s really nice here.” The place was… interesting.
Daisy arched a brow. “I’m a little surprised to hear you say that. I can only imagine how you live. Now that I think about it, I’ve never been to your place.”
“I’ve never been to yours either. My penthouse is the exact opposite of this. And yet this house has something rare. It breathes.”
“I agree.” Daisy opened a door. “This used to be my room,” she said. “But as you can see, they’ve turned it into an office. When I visit, or come here with Jenn, we stay in the guest room. The couch here pulls out into a bed too.”
After a tour of the house, we settled in the living room, where Daisy’s mother was setting drinks and cookies on the table.
“So, Damian, tell me more about yourself, your work, and how you and Daisy got together. Daisy doesn’t talk much about her job. Or her private life. Or anything at all. But I’m curious.”
Neither do I, I thought. Not about me. Not about us. And least of all here, at a table steeped in herbal tea and warm family rituals.
I gave a small nod, forcing my voice into something friendly.
