Ranch Daddy

by Shanna Handel

“I wish I could stay and watch you sleep,” he murmured. He gently pulled the covers up, tucking them under my chin.

  I snuggled deeper into the pillows, sleepily replying, “Mmm, me too.”

  “I’ve got to get back. I have an early morning.” He brushed the hair gently from my forehead. He kissed my lips softly, then whispered in my ear, “Sleep well, baby girl. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  Every muscle in my body was completely relaxed. My eyelids grew heavy as I lay listening to him let himself out. The click of the lock on the doorknob made me smile. Of course, he would be sure to lock my door.

  I couldn’t believe it had finally happened. And being with Colton was like nothing I had daydreamed. It had been so much more intense and pleasurable. I was bathed in afterglow, tenderly tucked in and sweetly kissed.

  Had it been a dream? I inhaled the scent of my sheets. They smelled of him. I wiggled further under the down comforter. For the first time, my body felt truly satiated. A smile crossed my lips as I fell into a deep, trouble-less sleep.

  Everything was finally as it should be.

  * * *

  Bang, bang, bang!

  I shot up straight as an arrow. Rubbing sleep from my eyes, I looked to my clock. Four in the morning. Colton had left hours ago. My heart raced as the loud pounding on my front door continued. Bang, bang, bang!

  “Josie Dixon!” a booming voice called from behind the door. I jumped from the bed, naked as the day I was born just as the door was kicked open. Shrieking, I grabbed up my sheet, wrapping it around my chill bump-covered body. Two men and one woman, all dressed head to toe in black, came filing through my busted door.

  “Josie Dixon?” The booming voice belonged to the first man who came in, who was now making his way to me, shining handcuffs in his hands. “You’re under arrest.”

  I watched slack-jawed as the other man, who looked to be about my age with short, dark hair, went straight to my desk, gathering my laptop. The woman began rifling through my closet, gathering clothes.

  “What for? What the heck—my computer! Tell that man to get his hands off my laptop. That’s private property!” I shouted, finally jarred awake.

  There was the click of the handcuffs closing, the cold metal digging into the delicate flesh of my wrists. The sheet fell from my body. This wasn’t happening.

  I stood naked and cuffed in the center of my bedroom, shouting, “Hey, wait! Don’t I get a phone call? A lawyer? I demand to speak to my attorney.”

  “Sorry, sweetie. It doesn’t work that way. Not with the FBI,” the woman said. Holding out a pair of sweatpants, she helped me step into them. She looked to the hard-faced man who had arrested me, asking, “Think you could un-cuff her long enough for me to get this shirt on her? I know she looks like a dangerous criminal to you, Agent Powell, but you have a good solid hundred pounds on her and we have her outnumbered three to one.” She gave me an apologetic look.

  “Okay, but hurry it up.” The cuffs were unlocked. The woman pulled a sweater down over my head.

  “Thank you,” I murmured, grateful to be covered up.

  Her eyes locked on mine. “Agent Mavis, FBI. Sorry to ruin your night but we need you to comply. Grab a bag, your toiletry items. Any medications you take on the regular. Glasses, contacts, retainers, anything like that. Throw a few clothes in the bag, put on your shoes, and then we are out of here.”

  My heart stopped beating in my chest. My breath caught in my lungs. The FBI was in my bedroom. They had my computer.

  What choice did I have but to comply?

  Grabbing my patchwork quilt bag, I did as she said, throwing in underwear, face wash, my toothbrush and toothpaste, my wallet. I pulled on my red cowgirl boots and gave my rumpled bed one last, long look. Mavis took the bag from me and handed it to the young dude with my laptop. Then she re-clamped the cuffs on me, much looser than before.

  The three of them marched me out of my house and into the dark morning. Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I ducked my head into the police car as the agent guided me through the car door. With a quiet slam, the door shut. I sat there, eyes closed as the engine started and the car rolled down my street.

  Tears burned at the backs of my eyes as I opened them, watching the familiar surroundings of Little Peak as we went. I allowed myself three deep breaths, then swallowed my tears. Leaning forward between the front seats, I asked, “What can you tell me about what is happening to me right now?”

  The younger man turned around, giving me a small smile. “Agent Slack. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. You’ve caused quite the scuttlebutt back at headquarters. They’ve taken to calling you ‘The Cowgirl Hacker.’ Man, was Powell here surprised when we tracked you down and found out you were living in this Podunk town—sorry, I mean, ah...”

  “I know where I live. Trust me, being a teen in a one-stoplight town, you understand how far removed you are from society.”

  “Ha. Yeah... you can say that again. Well, anyway, the level of security you were able to breach, we originally pegged you for an out of the country operation or a big city at least.” He genuinely looked impressed as he considered my face. “Josie Dixon, the political hacker extraordinaire.”

  “I guess I’m finally coming out from under my sister’s shadow,” I mused to myself. My head was spinning from my new reality.

  “Louanne Dixon, Ranch Romance? Yeah when we started to keep tabs on you and your family, the woman of the Bureau went gaga over her social media pages. She probably picked up at least a dozen agent followers.”

  “You’ve been keeping tabs on my... family?” The gravity of what I had done began to set in. All those nights I thought I was just fooling around on the interweb, I was breaking the law. A little email surveils on the wrong people, and you wound up like this? Cuffed in a strange car being driven off into the dark morning?

  I shook my head from side to side, trying to clear it. My fingers clenched and unclenched, my wrists scraping against the metal of the cuffs. I had to get out of this. I had to get them to take me home.

  Colton. I needed him.

  “When do I get my one phone call, or whatever? Surely I have rights. I get to talk to a lawyer, right?”

  Slack turned around in his seat, unwilling or unable to answer my question.

  “Slack?” I said, my voice weak.

  Agent Powell cleared his throat. “We’d love to slap you on the wrist and let you go, Josie. I’m sure you have family who’ll be worried sick and missing you. There’s only one little problem.”

  “Such as?”

  “You tapped into the email of one very, very powerful man. You may have found his emails a bit... boring. But they were in code, and addressed to a dangerous group. Now that you’ve gotten yourself involved, I’m afraid for your safety, and that of your family, it’d be best if you came with us. I’m afraid we can’t answer any more questions at this time.”

  Defeated, I slumped back in my seat. I rested my head against the window, watching the stretch of highway as we drove over it, wondering if I would ever see my family again.

  Part Two—Chapter Five

  One year later

  Knots formed in my belly as I looked at the sleek black watch adorning my wrist. Finally used to military time, I calculated that I would be leaving headquarters in four hours and ten minutes. Just as I did every evening after I bid farewell to my co-workers, I would pack up my government-issued Computon Tech laptop (wouldn’t be available to the public for seven more years) carefully into my black Tumi Aviano bag. Then I would hike down to the Metrorail, my high heels pinching my toes every step. The stitches of the fabric of my charcoal gray pencil skirt would hold on for dear life around my expanding ass (takeout and no workout meant my curves kept getting fuller). I would pretend not to notice the two undercover cops that followed me everywhere I went.

  The train would be crowded as usual. Some well-meaning businessman dressed in an expensive suit would most likely offer me his seat. Depending on my mood I may or may no
t accept. My stop would come up and off I would go to what the locals call the DC Condo Boutique. Wave hello to my doorman Mr. Patel (I would need to remember to leave him his Christmas bonus a few months early) and hop into the elevator.

  This was where the cops would stop trailing me, posting themselves one at each of the building’s exits. There, in the elevator, if I were alone, I would kick off my heels, holding them in my hand and waiting while the red numbers climbed to twelve. (I refused to live on the thirteenth floor. I’m not superstitious—just a little ‘stitious.)

  Step off the elevator, head to door 121, which was painted slate gray as all the others, a small nameplate just below the peephole marked with the words ‘Ms. Brighton.’ Just like every other night, I would reach up and press the fingerprint pad with the pad of my thumb, causing the lock to open with a crisp click. My keypad would alert the officers I was safe and locked in for the night.

  I would open the door, and step inside the swankiest apartment in which I would ever live. Depending on whether I had eaten delivered food around the conference table with the other agents, I might grab a piece of fruit to nibble on. Maybe some cheese and crackers. Perhaps a glass of wine if there was still some Pinot Grigio in my immaculate refrigerator. Then I would hang my outfit up with the other dry clean only garments and slip into some sweats.

  But tonight, one thing would be different.

  Tonight would be the last night I ever spent in this place.

  It was surreal that the next morning I would be heading back to Little Peak, Wyoming. My pale pink manicured fingernails tapped at the top of my Formica desk, my eyes glancing once more at my watch. Clearing my throat to keep the tears from forming, I locked my eyes on the screen of my computer. I had made it through twelve months—admittedly, I could get through the last few hours.

  Sensing my unease, my desk mate, Agent Slack elbowed me gently. “Weird day, huh?”

  I’d been an emotional wreck ever since the moment Mavis told me I’d be going home. “You could say that again.”

  He cocked a smile at me. “Weird day, huh?” he repeated.

  I rolled my eyes. After getting over the fact that he had been the one to confiscate my laptop that night, Slack and I had gotten along pretty well. We might even be friends—if I had allowed myself to make any. I felt too guilty about the relationships back home that I’d been ripped away from to enjoy anyone’s company. Slack was good at reading my moods and keeping a respectful distance. But right now, my mind was spinning. Grateful for the distraction, I took the bait. “Yeah, I guess you could use the word weird to describe the day you go from being an abducted citizen forced to work for the FBI chasing drug lords to being plopped right back into a life you can only hope you will fit back into.”

  “That’s pretty heavy. I think that’s the most you’ve ever shared with me since you’ve been here,” he said.

  I replied, “Yeah—heavy’s not my thing. I was always the one back home to make a joke to lighten the mood.”

  He smiled. “What’s it like, back home?”

  “Small town, everyone knows your business. But it’s beautiful... peaceful. So much quieter than here in the city. And the air—you can breathe it. Not like here with all the hustle and bustle and smog. I swear the noise pollution is worse than the environmental pollution,” I said.

  “I remember how fresh the air was the night we picked you up. And the landscape, it was beautiful, but... no offense, Little Peak looked incredibly boring. What do you have there? One restaurant and a feed store?” he asked.

  I smiled. He had no idea what we got up to out there. It was anything but boring. “I spent most of my time on the ranch.”

  He tapped a few keys on his laptop, eyeing the screen as he spoke. “Same ranch your sister and you did the weddings? I didn’t realize they did more than events, there.”

  “Yup. Real live working ranch,” I said.

  “Anyone special waiting for you?” he asked.

  The question alone made the color drain from my face. My forehead broke out in a strange prickly sweat. “There was... someone. Very special. But I haven’t spoken to them for a year. I have no idea if they’ve waited around for me. As far as I know, he could be married with a kid on the way.” My stomach sank just saying the words out loud.

  “I’m sure your mom would have told you if that was the case. Small town, right?” he said with a shrug.

  “True,” I shrugged back. “Word gets around.”

  Swiveling his chair to face me, he asked, “So, what’s the story with you and this guy?” he asked, chewing on the end of his pen. A habit of his that used to annoy me, but I had begun to tolerate.

  Talking of Colton made that uneasy, sickening lonely feeling well up in my chest. “He was a lifelong friend. We pretty much grew up together. His family owns the ranch. Him and his three cowboy brothers.”

  “Holy shit. A cowboy? Like a real-life horse-riding cowboy?” he asked.

  “You got it. Rodeo champ, horse rider, cattle-farming cowboy. The real deal,” I said. I thought of that little porcelain stallion. How wild and free and intense it was. How much it had reminded me of Colton’s spirit. I pushed the image away, only to have it snap back into my mind as if attached to a rubber band.

  Slack gave a low whistle. “I didn’t even know those men still existed. Chained to my computer sunup to sundown, I have to admit I’m a little jealous. Do ranches still raise beef?” Slack asked.

  I laughed. “Where do you think Cordon Bleu gets the filet mignon they deliver you?”

  He shrugged. “A factory?”

  “No. There are still people raising the beef you eat. And this guy was one of them. Didn’t you research all of this when you all were stalking me?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Mavis did all that. I swear she had Garth Brooks’ ‘Rodeo’ on repeat for a solid week. Said she was prepping for catching her cowgirl. Hey—did you ride horses?”

  “Of course. I was on Little Peak High’s National Rodeo Team sophomore year,” I said.

  “Impressive,” he said with a nod. “I’ll bet you look good riding a horse.”

  “Stop it,” I said.

  “Tell me more about this guy. What happened between the two of you?” he asked.

  Pangs of crushing sadness stuck in my chest. My head felt like I wasn’t getting enough oxygen, my heartbeat heavy. Taking a deep breath, I told myself to hold it together. Carefully, I arranged my face to lack emotion and took a deep breath. Giving a nonchalant shrug, I said, “We’d been crushing on one another for years, but nothing came of it. Until...” I couldn’t finish the sentence. The memory was too painful and speaking the words would bring it all back. The heartsick desperation that I had carried with me all this time.

  Slack’s tone quieted. “Until what?”

  Swallowing down my pain, I focused my energy on forming the words, pressing down my emotions to a depth I didn’t know I had before this. My lips tingled at the memory of Colton’s lips against mine. I took that feeling and pushed it down too. “The night you guys came for me. We hooked up for the first time.” Not that hooked up even came close to describing what we did—it had been as if we had become one in that bed.

  Slack’s eyes widened. “Shit! Really? That’s some bad luck. Is that why you were buck naked when we came for you?”

  “Basically,” I said, a blush creeping up in my face.

  His eyes widened. “Is that the last time you saw him?” Slack asked.

  “It was. Crazy, huh?” I said.

  “I’d say so. You must be excited to see him again.” He considered my face for a moment. He must have read my unease, because he asked, “Right?”

  Slack and I had kept our conversations pretty surface over the year, but the clock was ticking down to my departure. What the hell? After holding this to myself for so long, why not talk about it now? Besides, with my homecoming only hours away, I would go crazy if I didn’t let myself think about it. “I’m not sure what the word is to descr
ibe how I feel about seeing him again. I’m excited, nervous... but mostly, I’m... worried.”

  “Worried he’s changed?” Slack asked.

  “Maybe. It’s been a minute. And what about me? I’m not the same person I was when I left. What if he doesn’t like the new, grownup version of me?” My main concern came bubbling to the surface, the thought that stopped my breath from forming in my lungs. Bracing myself, I said, “I worry that he’s moved on.”

  “If I were a betting man, I’d say you got a pretty good shot he stuck it out. You seem like the kind of woman that a man has a hard time forgetting about.” His gaze lingered on me a moment too long.

  A deeper blush crept in my cheeks. I hadn’t been blind to the quiet admiration. We worked in close quarters and had learned to read one another’s moods. But my heart had been given to Colton that night he came to me, stood on my doorstep and told me that he couldn’t get me out of his mind. Slack was a great guy. He’d find his girl one day. But it wouldn’t be this baby girl. She had her heart set on her daddy. “Thanks. That’s sweet.”

  He looked me over. “You know, I like your hair better now. But I miss those gorgeous tattoos. You should get a new one.”

  “Maybe I will.” My hand brushed over my bare arms.

  “Well, I’m rooting for you, Shorty. We’re gonna miss you here in the big city. DC won’t be the same without your spunk,” he said.

  “Thanks.” I wasn’t going to miss anything about this place. I was ready to be home.

  “And if you ever get bored out there, you’ve got my number, cowgirl,” he joked.

  I hoped I wouldn’t need it.

  * * *

  They’re right. You sure as hell can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the girl.

  I would know, as the morning of my departure, I left my Christian Louboutin red-soled four-inch killer heels and traded them in for my trusty old red cowgirl boots. On went the warm, soft socks, pull up the boots and—presto! They still fit like a glove. Good thing my feet hadn’t grown along with my ass. Looking in the mirror, I gave myself a satisfied nod. My theory was correct—little black dresses can go with anything, and so can cowgirl boots.