Page 15 of Tame Me Daddy

"Mmm-hmm," Maya hummed, her tone suggesting she thought otherwise.

The creek bubbled peacefully beside us. I dipped my fingers in the cool water, letting it soothe my rope-burned skin. The constant movement helped hide the slight tremor in my hands—residual anxiety from the morning's work combined with the confusion that thinking about Grant stirred in me.

After a few moments of companionable silence, I ventured, "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot," Maya replied, leaning back on her palms, face tilted to the dappled sunlight filtering through the mesquite branches.

"What's Grant's deal? Is he . . . I don't know, married? Got kids?" I tried to keep my tone casual, merely curious.

Maya grinned knowingly, and I felt heat creep up my neck. "Wondering if the boss is available, huh?"

"No!" I protested too quickly, then sighed at her raised eyebrow. "Okay, yes, but not like that. I just . . . want to understand the dynamics here. Know who I'm working for."

"Grant's not married. Never has been, from what I hear." Maya pulled a blade of grass and twirled it between her fingers. "The ranch keeps him too busy for serious relationships, according to the gossip. Single at—what—thirty-eight?"

I hadn't realized he was that old. The touches of silver at his temples made more sense now.

"But there's something else about him," Maya continued thoughtfully. "Something . . . I don't know, old-fashioned? The way he runs this place is like he's from another era—protective ofhis people, expects a lot but gives a lot too. Not like other ranches where it's all about the bottom line."

I nodded, thinking about the way he'd corrected my stance—firm but not harsh, authoritative but not unkind. It had triggered something in me, something that connected to the part of myself I was trying to keep hidden.

"Rumor has it," Maya continued, lowering her voice conspiratorially though we were alone, "he was engaged once, a few years back. A city girl who couldn't handle ranch life. Left him for some banker in Dallas."

"That's sad," I said, meaning it genuinely. The image of Grant, stoic and alone after such rejection, tugged at something inside me.

"Yeah, well, Hank says he's been all about the ranch ever since. Like he's married to this land," Maya remarked. She stretched her legs out and wiggled her dusty boots in the dappled sunlight. "But enough gossip. What's your story, Vermont? Running from something or toward something?"

The directness of her question caught me off guard. I stared at the flowing creek, watching the water navigate its way around smooth stones, considering how much to reveal. Maya had been nothing but kind to me, but old habits of self-protection died hard.

"Both, I guess," I finally answered. "My family situation got complicated."

"Complicated how?" Maya pressed gently. When I hesitated, she added, "No pressure. Just making conversation. Sometimes it's easier to talk to strangers, you know?"

I took a deep breath. The creek's gentle murmur seemed to encourage confidence, and something about Maya's open face made me want to trust her. Not with everything—never with everything—but maybe with enough to explain why I was here.

"My parents found something personal of mine. Something they didn't understand." I kept my eyes on the water, finding it easier to speak without meeting her gaze. "They . . . basically said I wasn't welcome anymore unless I changed who I am."

Maya's expression softened. "Damn. That's rough. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Well, it's not okay, but . . . " I shrugged, surprised by how much I wanted to confide in her. Maya's open, accepting nature invited trust. But revealing my little side? That bridge felt too far, too soon, maybe forever.

"What was it?" Maya asked gently. "Drug problem? Sexuality thing?"

"Nothing like that," I replied quickly, alarmed at how easily she might misinterpret. "Just . . . a lifestyle choice they don't approve of."

Maya studied me for a moment, then nodded. "I get it. Family can be the worst sometimes. Mine freaked when I dropped out of vet school to 'play with horses,' as my dad put it." She mimicked a deep, disapproving voice. "Two years of tuition down the drain because you want to shovel shit for a living."

I laughed despite myself. "That's harsh."

"Yeah, well. They came around eventually. Especially when they saw I was happier here than I ever was in school." She tilted her head. "Sometimes people just need time to adjust to who you really are, you know?"

I felt a rush of gratitude for Maya's understanding, even without her knowing the full truth. The acceptance, however partial, soothed something in me that had been raw since that terrible night at home. For the first time since arriving at Warwick Ranch, I felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, I could find a place here.

"We should head back," Maya said, checking her watch. "Afternoon shift starts in fifteen."

As we gathered our lunch wrappers, I noticed something half-buried in the mud by the creek's edge—a small toy car, red and caked with dirt, apparently abandoned by some ranch worker's child. Without thinking, I picked it up, brushing away the mud to reveal faded racing stripes along its side.

"Cool find," Maya commented. "Probably belongs to one of the seasonal workers' kids. They bring their families sometimes during the busy seasons."

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