No one rushed to her side. That, more than anything, told her she wasn’t being treated as a guest — or a threat. Just a variable that hadn’t yet been categorised.
She took a moment before getting out.
The ranch unfolded around her with deliberate order. Fences straight and intact. Buildings spaced with purpose rather than convenience. Everything looked used, not neglected. Maintained by people who noticed when things went wrong.
She stepped down from the car and shut the door.
The central man from the gate approached first, stopping a few feet away. Close enough to command attention. Far enough to respect space.
“I’m Cole,” he said. “This is Tanner.” He nodded towards the man who’d been watching the land rather than her. “And Adrian.” Adrian gave a brief acknowledgment, his attention flicking between her and the open fields beyond.
Names given plainly. No titles. No handshakes.
She offered her own. They didn’t repeat it aloud, but she could tell they’d registered it.
Cole folded his arms. “You understand this isn’t permanent.” “Yes.”
“And that we don’t make promises we can’t keep.”
“I’m not asking for one.”
That earned her a pause. Not suspicion — recalibration.
Tanner leaned against the fence post, studying her with open curiosity. “You always answer questions like that?”
“Only when the alternative is worse.”
Adrian’s mouth twitched, almost a smile.
Cole gestured towards the main house. “We’ll get you settled. Then we’ll talk.”
Inside, the house was spare but warm. Solid wood. Clean lines.No excess. It felt lived in without feeling crowded, as though the space had adapted to its occupants rather than the other way round. Cole indicated a small room off the hall. “You can use this one. Bathroom’s at the end. Supper’s in an hour.”
She set her bag down on the bed. “What happens after supper?” “After supper,” he said evenly, “we decide whether this was a mistake.”
She nodded. “Fair.”
When he left, she sat on the edge of the bed and let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.
This wasn’t comfort.
But it was stability.
And for now, that was enough.
** CHAPTER THREE.
Supper was simple and deliberate.
Soup, bread, something roasted that smelled better than it looked, set out on the long wooden table without ceremony. No one asked whether she was hungry. No one hovered. She was included because she was there — not because she was owed anything.
That suited her.
They ate mostly in silence. Not the uncomfortable kind, but the sort that suggested shared routines. The scrape of cutlery. The occasional exchange of a glance when something needed passing. It was clear they’d done this thousands of times before, just the three of them. She noticed the details.
Tanner ate quickly, always glancing up between mouthfuls, his attention divided between the room and the windows. Adrian sat with his back to the wall, chair angled just enough to give him a view of the hall. Cole watched both of them without seeming to.
A system.
