Page 76 of The Cowboy and the Stray

“Quiet.” The last thing I needed was a scene.

I got out, boots crunching on the broken asphalt. Most of the rooms had drapes drawn, but a couple were open, TV glow bleeding out. I caught a whiff of Tess before I hit the sidewalk. Gasoline, sweat, and her shampoo. Apples, or something meant to smell like them.

Room 2, near the office. Door locked, but she was in there. I pressed my palm to the metal. Cool inside. No noise.

I stepped back, looked at Ash, and pointed at 4, two doors down, where the light was off. “Rent it,” I said.

She raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll handle her.”

“Let me know if it goes sideways,” she said, then headed toward the office.

I waited, counting my pulse. The years had taught me patience, but I wanted to rip the door off and yell at her to stop running for five minutes. Instead, I knocked, three sharp raps.

Nothing. Then footsteps and what may have been the sound of a chair being moved from behind the door. The lock turned, chain stayed on.

“Who is it?” she said, so muffled I almost missed it.

“Calder.”

The pause stretched out, then the door opened a crack. Her face was half in darkness, hair wild, no makeup, the bags under her eyes bruised deep.

“How did you—” She stopped. “Never mind. I’m an idiot. GPS on the car?”

I gave her a wry look. “You left a trail a blind man could follow.”

She opened the door all the way. She was fully dressed, even in her boots, in a Maddox Ranch hoodie and jeans.

I stepped in and closed the door behind me. The room was ice cold from the window unit set to Arctic, and she’d drawn the blinds tight. There was a half-eaten box of donuts on the bed, and she’d made a nest of blankets in the middle, like she meant to sleep for a week.

“You could’ve called,” I said. "Left a note. Or just filled me in before you took off."

She sat on the edge of the bed, legs drawn up, not looking at me. "I was trying to get you all out of danger," she whispered.

I scanned the room. She was ready to run. Dressed and a go-bag by the door.

I pulled up the only chair and sat, arms on my knees. “I think you owe me some answers.”

“Yeah.” Her voice was small, brittle. “I know.”

I waited. She picked at the donut box, then at a thread on her sleeve. I let her take all the time she needed.

When she finally looked up, her eyes were wet and hard at the same time. “You want to know what spooked me?” she asked.

“Yeah. Start there.”

She laughed, but it broke halfway. “I saw him. Outside the bar. The night we went out. He followed us to the parking lot but didn’t follow us out of the lot. I didn’t say anything, because I didn’t want to ruin your night. Or mine. Or maybe I thought if I pretended it didn’t happen, he would go away.”

“Who?” I asked.

“His name is Lance.” She said the name like it burned. “He’s my ex, from Vegas. The one I was running from, that I've been running from all this time. I knew he'd never let me go, not really. I had hoped if I disappeared, he’d lose interest. But I should've known better.”

I nodded, steady. “Why’d you take the car?”

She looked down. “I thought if I left fast enough, he’d just chase me. Not come to the ranch.” She swallowed, then forced herself to look me in the eye. “Not hurt anyone else.”

That part tracked, too. Tess was a runner, not a fighter. That much was clear about her.