He reached up and brushed my hair back from my forehead, the gesture so tender it made my throat tight. “How’d you sleep?”
“Really good, actually.” And it was true. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept so soundly, so completely relaxed.
“Good.” He glanced toward the window where weak morning light filtered through the curtains. “Storm’s passed. Should be a nice day for going outside.”
I nodded, though part of me wanted to suggest we just stay here. Stay in this cocoon of warmth and safety where the rest of the world couldn’t touch us.
But Simon was already moving, pressing a kiss to my forehead before sitting up. “Come on. Let’s get you fed and dressed. I want to show you something.”
The mention of food made my stomach rumble, and he chuckled.
“That’s what I thought. Get yourself cleaned up, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”
He left me alone to shower and dress, and I took my time, letting the hot water work out the lingering tension in my muscles. When I looked at my reflection in the foggy mirror, I barely recognized myself.
I looked… lighter somehow. Like someone had lifted a weight I’d been carrying for so long I’d forgotten it was there.
Downstairs, the house was quiet. Most of the ranch hands were already out working, their breakfast dishes left in the sink. Simon stood at the counter, plating eggs and toast with the kind of easy competence that came from practice.
“Sit,” he said when he noticed me, nodding toward one of the stools.
I obeyed without question, watching as he set the plate in front of me along with a cup of coffee.
“You don’t have to wait on me,” I said, even as I picked up my fork.
“I want to.” He settled onto the stool beside me with his own plate. “Get used to it, bud.”
The words sent a pleasant shiver through me. Get used to it. As if this was going to be my new normal. As if I could count on this kind of care consistently.
It felt too good to be true.
We ate in comfortable silence, and I found myself acutely aware of his presence beside me. The solid warmth of him, the way he occasionally glanced over to make sure I was eating, the small smile that played at his lips when he caught me watching him.
“What?” he asked, amusement coloring his voice.
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “Just… this is nice.”
“It is.” He reached over and squeezed my knee briefly. “Finish up so we can get outside. I want to check on the fences after that storm, and you’re coming with me.”
“I am?” Not that I minded—I just wasn’t used to being told what to do.
Actually, that wasn’t quite true. I was used to being told what to do in a professional capacity. But this was different. This was personal, intimate even. And the fact that I didn’t bristle at it, didn’t feel the need to assert my independence, told me everything I needed to know about how right this felt.
“You are,” he confirmed. “Fresh air will do you good. Plus, I like having you with me.”
The simple honesty of the statement made me duck my head to hide my smile.
After breakfast, we bundled up in our winter gear. I wrapped the scarf from my Secret Santa around my neck, and pulled on the matching hat and gloves. Everything fit perfectly, like they’d known exactly what I needed.
Outside, the world was transformed. Fresh snow blanketed everything, sparkling in the weak winter sunlight. The storm had left behind a pristine landscape, untouched except for the paths the ranch hands had already carved through the drifts.
Simon took my hand as we walked, and I laced our fingers together without hesitation. This was allowed now. This closeness, this connection—I could have it without feeling guilty or worried about overstepping.
We drove the fence line in one of the four-by-fours in comfortable quiet, Simon occasionally stopping to check a post or tighten a wire that had come loose in the wind. I mostly just watched him work, content to be near him.
“You’re quiet today,” he observed as we made our way toward the far pasture.
“Just thinking,” I said.
