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"See?" he said gently. "I keep my word."

I made my hand loosen.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The pleasure in him was almost childlike. A boy showing how mercifully he had returned the wing he tore off.

"He'll be fine," Derek said. "Men like that always are. The local cops probably know him by name."

"They do."

The answer came too flat.

His eyes sharpened.

I lowered mine to the plate. "Small town."

There. Softened. Managed.

His smile returned.

"Exactly. And after this blows over, everybody goes back to normal. You stay here. You can get your old position back, or I can talk to my uncle about office work at the dealership. Something stable. No more sleeping in barns or playing nursemaid to livestock in a blizzard."

The spoon inside my head went still.

He had no idea.

No idea what my hands could do in a calving barn. No idea what Doc trusted me with. No idea that Wyatt had asked me what the ranch needed and then written down every word. No idea that Boone's enormous hands had held mine like my hands were the important ones.

I took another bite.

"All right," I said.

"All right what?"

The old correction.

"All right, Derek."

"Good."

I finished the amount of rice my body remembered was safe and set the fork at four o'clock on the plate. Derek inspected the remains with one glance, accepted them, and stood.

"You can shower. Towels are where they always were. I bought your shampoo."

Of course he had.

"I'm tired," I said. "Could I shower in the morning?"

He considered the request, making me wait long enough to remember that requests had owners here.

"Sure," he said at last. "You've had a long day."

"Thank you."

He took my plate to the sink. I stayed seated until he told me I could move.