Page 28

Mel

I woke with a start, my heart racing as I tried to figure out where I was. The bed beneath me was unfamiliar—softer than my hotel mattress but firmer than my bed back at Nova’s estate. Golden morning light filtered through curtains I didn’t recognize, illuminating a rustic wooden bedroom that definitely wasn’t mine.

For one terrifying moment, I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten here.

Then it came back to me. Ethan. The plane. The short drive afterward through darkness.

I pushed myself up, rubbing my eyes as fragments of yesterday pieced themselves together. Nova surprisingly supportive. The chartered plane. Ethan’s gentle guidance through it all as I moved in a fog of exhaustion and lingering fear.

I couldn’t remember arriving or going to bed. Had I fallen asleep in the car? Had Ethan carried me inside?

My clothes from yesterday were folded neatly on a chair in the corner—jeans and a sweater I vaguely remembered putting on. I was wearing an oversized T-shirt that smelled like Ethan.

I slipped out of bed, padding across the cool wooden floor to the window. Drawing back the curtain, I gasped at the view that greeted me.

Mountains. Actual, majestic mountains rose in the distance, their peaks still dusted with snow despite it being late spring. The landscape was breathtaking in its vastness, a world away from tour buses and arenas and dead animals in boxes.

I dressed quickly in clean clothes from the bag Ethan had packed for me and ventured out of the bedroom. The hallway led to an open living area with vaulted ceilings and more windows showcasing that incredible view. To one side, a kitchen with wooden countertops and copper fixtures gleamed in the morning sun.

And there was Ethan, his back to me as he stood at the stove. Something sizzled in a pan, filling the air with the mouthwatering aroma of bacon.

I must have made some sound because he turned, and the smile that spread across his face sent warmth cascading through me.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he said.

“Where are we?” I asked, my voice still husky with sleep.

“My place.” He gestured with a spatula. “Well, technically still my parents’ property, but this house is mine.”

I crossed to the windows, drawn by the incredible landscape. “It’s beautiful. What state are we in?”

“Colorado. San Luis Valley. This is the Flying C Ranch—where I was born and raised.”

That got my attention. I turned to face him, leaning against the windowsill. “This is where you grew up?”

“Sure is,” he confirmed, flipping the bacon. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“I don’t know. I guess I pictured you being conceived in a test tube at some military facility somewhere. Born fully formed with tactical gear already strapped on.”

He laughed, the sound rich and relaxed in a way I rarely heard at work. “Sorry to disappoint. I’m just a regular ranch kid who liked climbing trees and riding horses a little too fast.”

I couldn’t quite reconcile the image of little Ethan racing horses with the commanding security expert who controlled rooms with his presence. But something about it made him even more appealing.

“Coffee?” he asked, interrupting my thoughts.

“Please.”

He poured from a steaming pot, adding a spoonful of sugar before sliding the mug across the counter to me. No cream—exactly how I liked it.

“You remembered,” I said, wrapping my hands around the warm ceramic.

“I notice things.” The simple statement contained multitudes. Of course he did. Noticing things was what made him exceptional at his job. But the fact that he’d applied that same careful attention to how I took my coffee made my chest feel strangely tight.

I watched him move around the kitchen, efficient and at ease as he managed eggs and bacon and what looked like homemade biscuits in the oven. The domesticity of it struck me—this dangerous man in worn jeans and a Henley, making breakfast as morning sun streamed through the windows.

I caught a glimpse inside the fridge as he opened it. “This place seems pretty well stocked for somewhere you don’t live full time. Did you have groceries delivered?”

A hint of color touched his cheeks. “My mom did it, probably. I called my parents yesterday to let them know I was coming and asked them to leave a car at the airport for us. She likely stocked up the place while she was at it.”

“Your parents live here too? ”

“In the main house, a couple miles that way.” He nodded toward the east. “They sold off a chunk of the property about ten years ago. The money from that lets them live comfortably, but they still keep some animals around. Horses, sheep, a few cows. Plus, about a dozen cats and dogs at the barn.”

“I’d like to see it,” I said, surprised by how much I meant it.

“After breakfast.” He transferred perfectly cooked eggs to two plates. “We’ll take the truck over.”

We ate at a small table positioned to maximize the view. Ethan ate with the focused efficiency I recognized from quick meals during security shifts, but there was a relaxed set to his shoulders I rarely saw.

“Thank you,” I said when we’d finished. “For breakfast. For bringing me here. For…everything.”

He reached across the table, taking my hand in his. “You needed a break.”

“We both did.” I squeezed his fingers. “Though I’m guessing your team has strict instructions to call if anything happens.”

“Of course,” he admitted with a crooked smile. “But Logan can handle things. His specialty is keeping Nova safe. Mine is keeping you sane.”

“Is that in your job description now? Manager management?”

He traced circles on my palm with his thumb, sending shivers up my arm. “Definitely not in any job description. This is strictly personal.”

The heat in his eyes made me duck my head, suddenly shy despite everything we’d already shared.

“Come on,” he said, releasing my hand. “Let’s go see those animals you’re so curious about.”

Ethan’s “truck” turned out to be a battered blue Ford that had clearly seen better decades. He caught my skeptical look and laughed .

“She’s reliable,” he promised, patting the hood affectionately. “Just because she’s old doesn’t mean she doesn’t have value.”

I climbed into the passenger seat, charmed by the faded plaid upholstery and the small horseshoe hanging from the rearview mirror. “She has character.”

The truck started with a rumble, and soon we were bouncing down a dirt road that wound through the property. The landscape opened up around us—expanses of green pasture, clusters of trees, the mountains a constant presence on the horizon. I rolled down my window, breathing in air so fresh it almost hurt my lungs after months of recycled hotel air conditioning.

“You look better already,” Ethan observed, glancing at me as he drove. “Some color in your cheeks.”

“I feel better.” And I did. Something about this place—the openness, the distance from all the crazy activity—was already working its magic. The image of that dead raccoon still lingered at the edges of my mind, but here, with the wind in my hair and Ethan beside me, it seemed less horrifying somehow. More distant.

He parked near a large red barn, and I followed him inside, hit immediately by the earthy scent of hay and animals. He hesitated, looking back at me with concern.

“Sorry about the smell. I didn’t think about it.”

“It’s fine,” I assured him, already moving deeper into the barn where I could see several horses in stalls. “It smells like real life.”

One horse—a beautiful chestnut with a white blaze down its face—nickered softly as we approached. Ethan grabbed an apple from a barrel near the door and held it out to me.

“Here. Hold it flat on your palm, like this.” He demonstrated, then guided my hand toward the horse’s velvety muzzle.

The gentle lips tickled my palm as the horse delicately took the apple. I couldn’t help the delighted laugh that bubbled up .

“That’s Rusty,” Ethan said. “I’ve had him since I was sixteen.”

“He’s gorgeous.” I stroked the horse’s neck, marveling at the muscled strength beneath the sleek coat. “You must ride him when you visit.”

“When I can. He’s getting older now, but he still likes a good run.” Ethan scratched under the horse’s chin with obvious affection. “Want to see the rest?”

He showed me around the barn—more horses, a few sheep in a pen outside, chickens scratching in the yard. A trio of barn cats regarded us suspiciously from their perch on a stack of hay bales. Everything was well maintained, but clearly working farm equipment, not the designer hobby farm of a wealthy family playing at agriculture.

“This was your life,” I said, not quite a question.

“Still is, in many ways.” He leaned against a post, watching me pet an inquisitive goat. “The land gets in your blood. Even when I’m halfway around the world on a mission, part of me is still here.”

What would that be like? We’d always moved around when Nova and I were growing up as opportunities made themselves available for her.

“You up for a hike?” Ethan asked, interrupting my thoughts. “There’s somewhere I want to show you.”

“Sure.”

Back in the truck, we drove farther into the property, eventually stopping where a trail led up into a cluster of rolling hills. The path was well-worn but natural, winding through wildflowers and scrubby bushes as it gradually climbed.

The physical exertion felt good after so many days of stress and fear. The sun warmed my skin, the breeze carried the scent of pine and earth, and Ethan walked beside me, occasionally steadying me with a hand at my elbow when the trail grew steep .

“Almost there,” he said after about twenty minutes of steady climbing. “Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Trust me.” His hand found the small of my back. “I’ll guide you.”

I closed my eyes, allowing him to lead me forward. The ground leveled out beneath my feet, and I could feel open space around me, the warmth of direct sunlight on my face.

“Okay,” he said, his voice low near my ear. “Look.”

I opened my eyes and gasped. We stood on a rocky outcropping that offered a sweeping view of the entire valley. The ranch spread out below us—the main house, the barn, paddocks with tiny figures of horses and cows. Beyond that, Ethan’s house and, farther still, the neighboring properties and the distant road. The mountains rose majestically behind it all, cradling the valley in their protective embrace.

But what struck me most was how familiar it felt. Not because I’d been here before, but because I’d painted this scene—or one remarkably like it—dozens of times.

The house. The animals. The sweeping land. The only thing missing was?—

“No children playing in the yard,” I whispered, the words escaping before I could stop them.

Ethan’s gaze sharpened. “What?”

I swallowed hard, suddenly exposed in a way that had nothing to do with the open landscape. “Nothing. It’s just…beautiful.”

“It’s like your paintings.”

His quiet observation slammed into me like a freight train. He’d noticed. Of course he had.

“That’s why you brought me here,” I said, understanding dawning. “You saw the connection.”

He nodded, something gentle in his expression. “I wondered if they were memories. But they couldn’t be—you’ve never been here before. Which made me think they might be something else entirely.”

Tears welled unexpectedly in my eyes. I turned away, overwhelmed by emotions I couldn’t quite name.

“Mel.” His hand was warm on my shoulder. “Talk to me.”

The dam broke. “They’re not memories,” I admitted, voice thick with unshed tears. “They’re dreams. What I want. What I’ve always wanted. A home. A family. Children.” I let out a shaky laugh. “God, it sounds so old-fashioned and quaint when I say it out loud.”

“Not to me.” The simple statement held such conviction it made me turn to face him.

“I want to be a stay-at-home mom,” I continued, the words tumbling out now that I’d started. “I want to raise children and grow a garden and just…live. Not manage chaos or put out fires or run someone else’s life. My own life. My own family.” I wiped at my eyes. “That’s why it’s so hard to tell Nova I want to quit. She’ll never understand. She lives for the spotlight, for achievement. She’ll think I’m throwing my life away.”

“But you’re not,” Ethan said firmly. “And nobody gets to say what someone else’s dream should be.”

“I know, but…”

“Plus, in my opinion, there’s nothing more important than raising the next generation. Nothing more noble than putting family first.”

I searched his face for signs he was just saying what he thought I wanted to hear. “You really believe that?”

His hands found mine. “Yes, of course I support women having careers if that’s what they want. But I also respect women who choose family. It’s not lesser. If anything, it’s harder .”

“You really mean that.” It wasn’t a question this time, but a realization.

“I’ll tell you more about why later.” He smiled, reaching into his backpack. “But first, I think we’ve earned lunch with this view.”

He spread a small blanket on the rocks and unpacked sandwiches, apples, and cookies. We sat side by side, eating and talking as the sun climbed higher in the sky. Ethan told stories of growing up on the ranch—his first horse, the time he broke his arm falling from the hayloft, how his sister, now living in Chicago, used to boss him around despite being three years younger.

I found myself laughing freely for the first time in what felt like months. The knot of tension that had been living in my chest since the roadkill incident—or maybe since long before that—began to loosen.

“Thank you,” I said when we’d finished eating. “Not just for bringing me here, but for seeing me. Really seeing me.”

His eyes softened. “You’re easy to see, Mel. You shine.”

A rush of emotion overwhelmed me—gratitude, affection, desire, all tangled together. I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his in a kiss that started gentle but quickly deepened. His hand came up to cradle my face, his touch reverent as he angled my head to deepen the connection.

The sun warmed my back as Ethan’s mouth heated my blood. Here, with the valley spread out below us and the vast sky above, everything else fell away—Nova, the tour, the stalker, all of it. There was only this moment, this man, this breathtaking feeling of finally being seen for exactly who I was.

For the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.