AN: Hello dearests!

Hope y'all like emotions, because those are exactly what this here chapter made me feel while writing it. Just throwing it out there.

Happy reading!

Disclaimer: Ally Carter owns Zach, Cammie, and the Gallagher universe.


Cammie's POV

We were both reluctant to leave our little sanctuary, but Grandpa would be looking for us soon, if he wasn't already. And I, personally, had no words to describe how much I didn't want him to find Zach and I curled up together in that shelter. I would never be able to look him in the eyes again, and this coming from a girl who'd read an entire five-volume series called The When, Where, and How of Eye Contact for a Pavement Artist.

The storm was still raging when we finally put on our filthy clothes and crawled out from under the tarp. Neither of us were overly excited to experience Grandpa's wrath, so we took our time tearing down the shelter. Though, to be fair, the slow pace probably had less to do with our unwillingness to see Grandpa and more to do with the kisses we couldn't seem to stop sharing.

Zach and I had never really been prudish or stingy when it came to the physical aspects of our relationship. But we were co-workers, and we'd always been aware of our surroundings and what is and isn't appropriate in the workplace—especially our workplace, where the security guys would get to watch a spontaneous make-out sesh in ultra high-tech clarity. Sounds, visuals, even the amount of body heat we'd be giving off would be recorded and stored in Langley's video files. Yeah. No thanks.

So, this feeling of having no eyes on us was…not necessarily new, but rare. Pair that with the tempering and strengthening our relationship had just gone through and you've got yourself two people who can't keep their hands to themselves.

Eventually, we did manage to stay separate long enough to pack everything away, but then it was right back to close proximity once we both mounted Rascal. Though, it was hardly my fault that my back had to be plastered to Zach's front, or that the most convenient place for him to rest his free hand that wasn't holding the flashlight was on my hip. Those touches were simply unavoidable when only one horse was at your disposal. Everyone knew that. However, I doubted the little circles Zach was making with his thumb on my skin or the soft kisses he was placing on my neck would be considered necessary in every two-people-one-horse situation. But I was hardly about to point that out.

As we made our way back, we came across the runaway cow, still grazing peacefully as if this were just another sunny day. At this point, I was pretty sure five-three-eight and her calf would be fine whether she stayed out here or not, but Zach had come to this pasture on a mission, and he hated to leave missions incomplete. So, with some direction from me, Zach used a rope from the travel pack to tie a workable harness around her head, and after a few tugs, she started to follow behind us.

"Look at you," I said as I leaned back into Zach's chest. "Roping your first cow. You're practically a rancher already."

I felt the small gust of a silent laugh. "Not in this lifetime, Gallagher Girl."

"Okay. Maybe not a rancher, but in time, you could be a passable ranch hand. We'll just have to keep coming back here to practice."

Zach stiffened a little but didn't say anything. I tilted my head in a neck-breaking position to try to see his expression.

"You will come back here with me, won't you?" I asked.

He gently guided my head to face forward again. "I don't know, Cammie. The agency may not be able to spare us both for a week at the same time every year."

It was an excuse, and a lame one at that. Sure, we worked a lot, like, a lot a lot, but we were spies, not the president. As long as we weren't in an indefinite, deep cover situation, we were allowed vacations and time off.

My fingers tightened on Rascal's reins. "Is it the horses? I know you said you were nervous about riding at the beginning of this trip, and I know I kind of sort of forced you to ride, and I know that ended terribly, and I know your ride with Dragon today was…"

"Traumatic?"

"...bad. But as soon as we get back to the barn, I promise I will never, ever make you ride another horse ever again."

A flash of lightning lit up the surrounding trees and a drawn-out grumble of thunder followed, and I resisted the urge to turn around and squeeze Zach's thoughts out of him.

"I'm not really that scared of horses," he finally said. "At least I wasn't."

"Okay. Is it Ryden?"

"It's not Ryden, trust me. I'm past that."

"Then what, Zach?"

He let out a deep sigh. And even though I couldn't see him, I'd bet anything that he was biting the inside of his cheek. It was his tell when he really didn't want to say the truth…but was going to anyway.

"I was nervous about coming here because of your grandparents. I mean, they made and raised your dad. Meeting them is basically the closest I'll ever get to meeting your father, and gaining their approval is the closest I'll ever get to gaining your father's approval. It freaked me out a little."

I pulled Rascal to a stop.

"Cammie?"

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. My throat felt too tight.

"Cammie?"

The light he was holding shone briefly on my face. I tried to turn away, but it was too late.

"Oh, don't cry. Please don't cry, Gallagher Girl."

"I'm not," I protested. "It's just rain."

"Liar." His arms snaked around my waist and held me. "I'm sorry, Cammie."

I waved his apology away then uselessly wiped at my already washed away tears. "You don't need to say sorry. These are…well, they aren't happy tears. I'm just touched. Somehow, I hadn't thought of that. Of my grandparents being how you could meet my dad."

"I know they aren't substitutes for the real deal," he quickly said.

"They aren't," I agreed. "They're in their own category, but…in a lot of ways he was a good mix of the two of them. He had Grandpa's stubbornness but Grandma's easy smile. Grandpa's fierce, protective love and Grandma's attention to detail."

"I'd say your grandma's fiercely protective too."

"Why do you say that?"

"No reason."

"Zach–"

"Weren't we just talking about your dad?"

I nodded and swallowed another wave of emotion. I didn't get all teary eyed at every mention of my dad these days. Since the closure my mom and I got a couple years ago, after officially finding his body and having a proper burial, we mostly looked back on the happy memories and peaceful moments. But then there were times like this when I could feel my dad's absence more acutely, when I knew he was missing out on something important—someone important—in my life.

"He would've approved of you, you know." I squeezed Zach's hand. "He would've loved you how Joe loves you, or how Townsend loves you. How a father loves."

Zach was quiet for several heartbeats. I stayed facing forward, letting the boy Catherine kept from his father absorb the words. Letting the man who loved me accept them. Slowly, I traced the palm lines of his captive hand.

He eventually cleared his throat loudly and pressed his heels into Rascal's side, urging our tiny caravan forward. "We'll both get sick if we stay out here much longer. Then fatherly love or no, Joe and Townsend will have a field day."

I rolled my eyes. Men and feelings. It was fine. I'd let him change the subject and save face for now. Still, I placed a kiss in the middle of his palm, letting him know that I was here and ready to talk about it if he ever needed or wanted to. He gave me a squeeze with his free arm in a silent thank you.

See? Already our communication was improving.

We remained like that for a few minutes, quiet and content amidst the chaotic weather. Letting the animals walk leisurely rather than purposefully. It wasn't until we'd left the pasture and were well into the wide cattle trail that I felt Zach stiffen and say, "Dragon. We left Dragon behind."

I smiled and patted his leg. "Dragon's fine. He probably ran for another minute or so after you jumped, then I guarantee he found his way back to the barn. He's skittish, but horses are smart animals. He's probably doing better than we are right now."

I didn't mention that he was also likely just as traumatized as Zach by the whole ordeal. But need-to-know basis was real, and poor Zach already felt guilty enough about everything that happened. I'd be sure to give Dragon extra love and treats before we left.

My answer seemed to relax Zach, but the reminder of Dragon had me curious about something.

"How did you manage to stay on Dragon when he bolted?" I asked. "While you were bareback no less?"

"Would you believe me if I told you it was by the sheer strength of my thighs alone?"

I reached back and squeezed one of those thighs. Damn. "Maybe."

He laughed. "Calm down, cowgirl. It was probably more due to the vice-like grip I had on his reins and mane. My fingers are still a little sore from being clenched so tight."

"Poor thing," I said and started to massage the fingers of his flashlightless hand. "But to be fair, if you'd just tacked Dragon fully, it would've been much easier to keep your seat without white knuckling the whole time."

"I didn't have time for that," he argued. "I knew you'd be hot on my heels, and I wanted to get the dang cow before you could show up and talk me out of it, or worse, do it for me."

"Sure," I said, drawing out the word, goading him. "I bet you just forgot how to fully tack a horse."

He scoffed. "Photographic memory, Cameron Ann."

Then just to prove his point, he recounted every single step to tacking a horse down to the last detail. He was doing a perfect job, too, until he got to the girth.

"Wrong," I said.

"No, I'm not."

I hated to burst his bubble, but he absolutely was wrong. "You said there's supposed to be a hand's breadth between the horse and the girth, right?"

"Yeah."

"That's wrong." I couldn't help but laugh a little. Was it all men or just spy men who had to always be right?

"I may not like Ryden, but I paid attention when he showed me how to tack because I knew it was important to you. And he told me a hand's breadth."

I stopped laughing. In fact, I swung one leg over Rascal's neck so I was sitting side saddle and could properly look Zach in the eyes.

"Woah! Cam–"

"Are you serious?"

"Cammie, what are you–"

"Zach." I held his face with both hands. "Did Ryden really tell you a hand's breadth between the horse and girth."

He looked at me like I was a little bit crazy, but he still nodded and said, "Yeah. 'You should be able to fit a fully spread hand between it and your horse.' That was what he said verbatim."

Zach's expression shifted to one of concern. But I didn't have time to reassure him or explain, because right at that moment, we emerged from the trees, and none other than Ryden came into view.

When he spotted us, he jogged toward us.

What came next, I'm not exactly proud of, but I don't exactly regret either.

"Stay on the horse," I told Zach. Then I slid to the ground and started walking in Ryden's direction.

"Thank goodness you guys are okay," he said as he drew closer. "I was starting to worry about–"

He was cut off abruptly when I broke CoveOps rule #58 and punched him in the face. Hard.

"That's for almost killing my boyfriend."


AN: Thanks lots and lots for reading! You guys are the best! You know it. I know it. A very tiny portion of the world with a niche interest in Gallagher Girl fanfiction set on a ranch knows it. And that is...honestly not a lot of people. But you should feel proud anyway:):) As always, if you liked what you read, feel free to leave an encouraging comment. If you didn't, leave a helpful critique.

Anywho, hope y'all have a great week! Much love, Rachel