Page 33 of Tame Me Daddy

"We should head to the mess hall," Maya said, glancing at her watch. "If we're late, Mrs. Hernandez will give us the burnt biscuits she saves for people who mess up her schedule."

I fell into step beside her, my body tired but my mind clearer than it had been in years. The ranch spread out around us, no longer looking like a foreign landscape filled with challenges I couldn't overcome. For the first time, I could imagine a future here—a place where all parts of me could exist together.

"You coming?" Maya called, already several paces ahead.

"Right behind you," I answered, lengthening my stride to catch up.

*

The mess hall thundered with the day's victories and complaints, silverware clanking against plates and laughter bursting over conversations like sudden summer rain. I slid into a seat beside Maya, balancing a tray loaded with Mrs. Hernandez's beef stew and homemade rolls. My body still hummed with the day's work, muscles pleasantly tired in a way that grounded me to the present moment. I didn't need to look to know when Grant entered the room—something in the air shifted, the way animals sense a storm before it breaks.

"Saved you a seat," Maya said, scooting over on the bench. Her dark braids were damp from a quick shower, and she'd changed into a clean t-shirt that had seen better days, the ranch logofaded after countless washes. She nudged me with her elbow. "You hungry enough to eat a whole cow?"

"Just about," I answered, tearing into a roll. The bread was still warm, steam rising when I pulled it apart. Around us, ranch hands filled the long tables—weather-beaten men and women with calloused hands and sun-creased faces. The older hands clustered at one end, their conversation a comfortable drone of cattle prices and weather predictions. The younger workers, like Maya and me, claimed the other end, where laughter came easier and stories grew taller with each telling.

I let myself glance toward the far side of the room, where Grant sat with Ryder and some of the senior hands. He wore the same work clothes as everyone else—dusty jeans and a faded plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned forearms—but he carried himself with an authority that set him apart. His focus seemed entirely on the conversation at his table, yet I felt his awareness of me like a phantom touch across my skin.

"Heard they're shifting the rotation schedule," said Levi, a lanky hand with a perpetual sunburn across his nose. "South pasture's getting too dry."

"Makes sense," Maya replied. "That creek bed's been empty for weeks."

I nodded along, half-listening while surreptitiously watching Grant's table. He leaned forward, saying something to Ryder that made the older man nod thoughtfully. Grant's hands moved as he spoke, strong and certain. They were the same hands that had been so gentle on my body, that had guided and comforted me. I looked away quickly, heat creeping up my neck.

"Heard you rounded up those yearlings real quick yesterday, boss," one of the older hands suddenly called across to Grant, his voice cutting through the general din. He was a leathery man with a salt-and-pepper mustache that quivered when he smiled."New girl let 'em loose and took off running after them like a city slicker chasing pigeons."

The mess hall rippled with laughter. All eyes turned first to Grant, then swiveled to me. A week ago, I would have crumbled under this attention, might have even fled the room. Now, I felt my face flush but not with the paralyzing shame I'd expected.

I met the teasing with a self-deprecating smile. "Lesson learned," I called back across the tables. "Those yearlings are trickier than they look."

My response earned appreciative chuckles from around the room. Grant's lips curved slightly—not a full smile, but enough to send a flutter through my stomach. Our eyes connected briefly across the crowded space, and in that moment, it felt like everyone else faded away. His slight nod communicated approval, pride even, and something more intimate that made my pulse quicken.

"They're quick little buggers," agreed another hand, and the conversation rolled on, my moment in the spotlight already forgotten.

Beside me, Maya stayed unusually quiet, her dark eyes tracking between Grant and me with growing interest. She took a deliberate bite of her stew, but I could feel her watching me from the corner of her eye.

"This stew's especially good tonight," I said, desperately casting for a neutral topic.

"Mmhmm," Maya hummed, clearly not distracted. "Mrs. Hernandez said she added some special spices. Something about celebrating the full moon."

The meal continued, ranch hands coming and going. Conversations flowed around me—talk of the upcoming county fair, a new calf born that morning, someone's truck breaking down again. I joined in just enough to appear normal, but my awareness remained fixed on Grant's presence across the room.

When he finally rose to leave, my heart rate spiked. His path toward the exit would take him past our table. I stared intently at my nearly empty plate, trying to appear casual while every nerve ending in my body stood at attention.

Grant moved through the room with the unhurried confidence of a man on his own land. He stopped to exchange words with a few hands along the way, his deep voice carrying snippets of conversation about fence repairs and feed deliveries. When he reached our table, he nodded professionally to the group.

"Good work today, everyone," he said, his gaze sweeping over us without lingering on me.

A chorus of "Thanks, boss" and "Night, Grant" rose from the table. I kept my eyes down, mumbling my goodnight along with the others. As he passed behind me, I felt his fingers brush my shoulder—so light and quick that it could have been dismissed as an accident. But the deliberate pressure of his touch sent a jolt of electricity down my spine.

"Interesting," Maya murmured, too softly for anyone else to hear.

I reached for my glass, using the movement to cover my reaction. "What's interesting?"

Maya's eyebrows rose, her expression caught between amusement and suspicion. "The way Barrett's bull keeps breaking through that north fence. Third time this month. Very interesting."

I knew she wasn't talking about the fence, but I grabbed onto the lifeline she'd offered. "Maybe we should use the heavier gauge wire when we repair it tomorrow."

"Maybe," she agreed, her lips quirked into a knowing smile that made it clear she wasn't fooled for a second.

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