She takes a deep, shuddering breath and nods. “Okay. Yeah. Okay.”
“Good,” I say, giving her a gentle squeeze before letting her go. “You sit right here by the fire. Get warm. I’ll be right back.”
I guide her to the rug in front of the hearth. She sits down, pulling her knees to her chest. She wraps the blanket around her shoulders, watching the flames.
I go to the kitchen. In the pantry, I find a large enameled metal pot and carry it to the sink. The pump is manual, thankgoodness. I work the handle, the water gushing out into the pot. It’s freezing cold, but it’s clear.
I carry the full pot back to the living room. It’s heavy. I set it on the stone hearth, right in the coals. I stoke the fire, pushing the logs together to create a hotter bed of heat.
Then I sit down on the rug beside her. Not too close—giving her space—but close enough that she can feel my presence.
We sit there, watching the water. It takes a few minutes to even start steaming.
She’s staring into the flames, her eyes wide and glassy. The silence is stretching again, and I can feel the anxiety creeping back into her posture. She is picking at the blanket again.
I need to distract her. I need to get her out of her head.
“So,” I say, keeping my tone conversational. “You’re a lawyer.”
She blinks, looking at me. “What?”
“I’ve known plenty of ranchers and riders,” I say. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually known a lawyer. What’s that like? Is it all yelling ‘objection’ in courtrooms and burying people in paperwork?”
I expect her to talk about contracts or the Denver skyline or the adrenaline of a courtroom win.
Instead, she lets out a short, bitter laugh. She looks down at her hands.
“It’s lonely,” she says softly.
“Lonely?”
She nods. She pulls the blanket tighter. “I work at this firm. Hartman & Ellis. Top tier. I spent eighty hours a week in a building that smelled like lemon polish and arrogance. I thought I had it made.”
She pauses. The fire pops, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney.
“I had a boyfriend,” she continues, her voice flat. “Richard. He was an Alpha. A partner at the firm. He was... everything I thought I wanted. Polished. Successful. He understood the long hours. He understood the ambition.”
I listen, watching her face.
“And I had a best friend. Penelope. She was a paralegal there. We did everything together. Lunch, drinks, movies. She was the sister I never had.”
She turns her head to look at me, and there’s a hollow look in her eyes that scares me. “I was done early and wanted to surprised him. I thought... I don’t know. I thought we could have dinner. Maybe reconnect.
I frown. I have a bad feeling about where this is going.
“I walked into his office,” she says. “He didn’t hear me. He was... occupied. On his knees. Under his desk.”
I stiffen.
“It was Penelope,” she says, her voice cracking. “My best friend. She was leaning back against his desk, holding his head, making these sounds...”
She stops, swallowing hard. “They didn’t even stop when they saw me. He just looked up, with his... his mouth still on her, and he just said, ‘Shit.’ Like I’d walked in on him dropping a stapler.”
I stare at her, shock rippling through me. That is... brutal. It’s a betrayal so deep it cuts to the bone.
“Saramaria,” I say, my voice rough. “That’s... I’m sorry.”
She shrugs, a tear tracking down her cheek. “That’s the life I built. That’s the ‘success’ I ran away to this ranch to find. A fiancé who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, and a best friend who didn’t care about my heart. Everyone knew. Everyone in that office probably knew. They were laughing at me while I was billing hours and paying for their dinners.”
