Page 8 of Tame Me Daddy

I fought the tears, fought the urge to regress into my little space where emotions were simpler and more permissible. My hands clutched the towels too tightly.

"I'm fine," I lied, the words barely making it past the tightness in my throat. "Just tired from the trip."

Maya nodded, pretending to accept this obvious falsehood. Her kindness in that moment—allowing me my dignity, not pushing or prying—nearly undid me completely.

"Why don't you take a quick shower? I'll come back in thirty minutes to walk you to dinner."

I nodded gratefully, not trusting my voice.

"Bathroom's empty now. Good timing." She pointed down the hall. "Left towel rack is yours. I'm the right."

After she left, I gathered my shower supplies and clean clothes, locked my door, and hurried to the bathroom. Only there, under the spray of hot water, did I allow myself a few silent tears—of relief, of fear, of exhaustion. I let them mix with the water and disappear down the drain.

By the time I'd showered and changed into my cleanest jeans and a simple blue t-shirt, I felt more composed. I brushed mydamp hair and pulled it back into a neat ponytail. Looking in the mirror, I practiced my normal-adult face again.

"You can do this," I whispered to my reflection. "One day at a time."

When Maya knocked again, I was ready—or as ready as I could be. The small breakdown had actually helped, releasing some of the pressure that had built over days of constant vigilance.

"Feel better?" Maya asked as we walked down the hallway.

"Much. Thanks for the towels."

"Ready to meet the rest of the crew?" Maya asked.

No. But I nodded anyway.

*

The mess hall was pure chaos. The wall of noise hit me first – laughter, conversations, the scrape of cutlery on plates – followed by the smell of beef stew and fresh bread. My fingers gripped the door handle tighter, an anchor in the chaos. I counted to five in my head, a trick I'd learned to keep myself centered when the world felt too big, too loud, too much.

Twenty or so ranch hands filled the long wooden tables, their faces unfamiliar and their voices creating a jumble of sound that made my chest tighten. I stood in the doorway, mapping an escape route in my head, when someone called my name.

"Cherry! Over here!"

Maya's voice cut through the noise. She sat at a table near the far wall, waving enthusiastically. Her bright smile was a lighthouse in my storm of anxiety. I let the door swing shut behind me and picked my way between the tables, avoiding eye contact with the curious glances that followed me.

"Thought you might get lost," Maya said as I reached her. She patted the empty bench beside her. "Sit. Food's actually decent tonight."

I slid onto the wooden bench, grateful for her guidance. The worn wood was smooth beneath my jeans, polished by years of workers just like me. Except they all seemed to belong here.

"Everyone, this is Cherry," Maya announced to the table. "Our new ranch hand. Be nice or I'll tell your horses you talk trash about them."

A round of chuckles circled the table. Five faces turned toward me – three men and two women, all wearing the weathered look of people who spent their days under the open sky.

"That's Hank," Maya pointed to an older man with a salt-and-pepper beard. "Been here longer than the rocks."

"Not quite," Hank drawled, tipping his hat to me. "Welcome aboard, missy."

Maya continued around the table. "That's Lisa and Jen, they handle most of the training of new horses." The two women nodded, one raising her coffee mug in greeting. "And that's Diego and Tyler. They're on fence duty this month, which is why they look so miserable."

"Hundred miles of fence and every post needs checking," the younger of the two men groaned. "My hands are nothing but calluses now."

Names swam in my head, and I knew I'd forget half of them by morning. I mumbled hellos, trying to match each name with a face, storing details I might remember – Hank's beard, Lisa's turquoise bracelet, Tyler's scar above his left eyebrow.

A server appeared at my shoulder, plopping down a bowl of steaming stew and a thick slice of bread. The rich aroma of beef and herbs made my stomach growl, reminding me I hadn't eaten since my hasty sandwich at lunch.

"So, Cherry," Jen leaned forward, brushing her dark bangs from her eyes, "Maya says you worked a ranch in Oklahoma?"

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