Page 31 of Tame Me Daddy

He'd smiled then, one of those rare smiles that transformed his stern face into something breathtaking. "Something that feels like it’s worth protecting."

Now, alone in my bed, I rolled the phrase around in my mind. Something worth protecting. No one had ever considered me worth that kind of care before.

I finally pulled myself from bed and padded to the small bathroom attached to my quarters. In the mirror, I looked different somehow. Not dramatically—my hair was still the same mess of blond waves, my eyes still that unremarkable hazel—but there was something in my expression that hadn't been there before. A steadiness. A certainty.

I showered quickly, letting the water sluice away the lingering stiffness in my muscles. As I dried off, I caught myself standing straighter, shoulders back, chin lifted. It was the same posture Grant had taught me during our first cattle-handling lesson—"Stand like you belong here, like you know what you're doing even when you don't"—but now it felt natural, not forced.

Dressing for the day, I chose my usual work clothes—jeans, boots, a flannel shirt—but I found myself being more deliberate in my movements. I tucked my shirt in neatly, ran a brush through my hair instead of just tying it back wet. Small changes, barely noticeable to others, but significant to me. I was caring for myself the way Grant had cared for me.

Outside, the air held that particular Texas morning crispness that would burn off by noon. The ranch was already stirring—distant voices calling to each other, the rumble of a tractor starting up, the perpetual soundtrack of lowing cattle. I breathed it all in, aware of sensations I'd been too anxious to notice before. The way my boots pressed into the packed dirt path. The leather strap of my water bottle against my shoulder. The particular scent of hay and manure and open sky that now smelled like possibility rather than fear.

Everything felt more vivid, more present. The world had been turned up a notch, colors more saturated, sounds clearer. I wondered if this was what it felt like to simply be in your body instead of constantly trying to escape it.

As I neared the mess hall, my steps slowed. In there would be the other ranch hands. Maya with her perceptive eyes. Mrs. Hernandez, who missed nothing. And possibly Grant, whom I'd have to pretend was just my boss, not the man who had held me while I shattered and then carefully put me back together.

I rehearsed normal in my head. How to hold my coffee mug without my hands shaking. How to answer casual questions without blushing. How to look at Grant without everything I felt showing on my face.

"You got this," I muttered to myself.

I squared my shoulders and pushed open the door to the mess hall, stepping into the warmth and noise with something approaching confidence. The familiar scents of coffee and Mrs. Hernandez's cooking washed over me. Morning light streamed through the windows, catching on steel surfaces and making them gleam.

Several heads turned as I entered, then went back to their conversations. No one stared. No one pointed. No one could see the profound shift that had occurred in me. The revelation both relieved and disappointed me. Part of me wanted some externalacknowledgment of my transformation, but the sensible part was grateful for the anonymity.

I filled my plate with eggs and toast, poured a cup of coffee, and headed toward the table where Maya sat with some of the other hands. My heart beat a quick rhythm in my chest as I scanned the room for Grant. He wasn't there yet, and I felt both relief and a pang of disappointment.

This was going to be harder than I thought—this balance of having and hiding, of being seen and keeping secrets. But as I took my seat and Maya greeted me with her usual easy smile, I found myself thinking it would be worth it.

*

The yearling cow stared me down with dark, liquid eyes that no longer made my stomach clench with fear. I planted my feet in the dusty earth, angled my shoulders just so, and let my breath out slow and steady. The animal's ears flicked forward, then back, before she finally decided I meant business and trotted through the gate. Just days ago, I'd have been trembling behind the fence while Maya did all the work. Now my body moved with a certainty that felt foreign but good, like stepping into boots that had finally been broken in.

"Nice work," Maya called from her position at the other side of the pen. Sweat dampened the colorful bandana tied around her dark braids, and dust clung to her jeans.

I tipped my hat in acknowledgment and moved to herd the next animal. The rhythm of the work had started to make sense to me—the push and retreat, the silent communication between human and beast, the importance of projecting the right energy. Grant's lessons echoed in my mind: "They respond to what you're feeling, not what you're saying."

Three more yearlings followed the first, their hooves kicking up puffs of dust as they trotted through the gate. I closed andlatched it behind them, oddly satisfied by the solid clunk of metal.

Maya leaned against the fence post, one boot crossed over the other, taking a long pull from her water bottle. Her eyes never left me, narrowed slightly as if trying to solve a puzzle.

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with the girl who screamed at a calf sneezing two days ago?" She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her lips quirked in amusement.

I shrugged, trying for casual as I fiddled with the gate latch. "Just getting the hang of things, I guess."

"No," Maya said, pushing off from the fence and stepping closer. "It's more than that." She squinted at me in the bright light, her head tilted. "You're different today. Grounded. Like you finally believe you belong here."

My cheeks warmed under her scrutiny. I busied myself with coiling a length of rope, focusing intently on making the loops even. "Maybe something just clicked," I offered, not meeting her eyes.

Maya's boots scraped against the hard-packed earth as she moved closer, her shadow falling across my hands. "You're handling those animals like you've been doing it for months, not days." Her tone wasn't accusatory, just curious. "Yesterday you could barely look at the big steers without flinching."

I tied off the rope and hung it on the fence post. "Repetition, I guess. You do something enough times, you get better at it." The lie tasted bitter in my mouth. Maya had been nothing but kind to me since I'd arrived, taking me under her wing when the other hands had written me off as a lost cause.

"We should head to the south pasture," I said, changing the subject. "Weren't we supposed to check the fence line there?"

Maya nodded, still watching me with that penetrating gaze. She fell into step beside me as we left the pen behind, our boots crunching in unison on the gravel path.

"Does this 'something' have anything to do with your meeting with Grant yesterday?" she asked after we'd walked a few minutes in silence. "The whole ranch was buzzing about the yearling escape, and then you disappeared into his office for hours..."

My heart stuttered in my chest. Had someone seen something? Had we been careless? I forced my breathing to remain steady.

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