Simon Riley had never imagined himself living on a farm. After years of military service, he had been discharged and left to figure out what to do with a life that had revolved around orders, deployments, and violence for far too long. Working for a wealthy, elderly landowner had seemed like a reasonable alternative. The pay was good, the work was straightforward, and the countryside offered a kind of quiet he had almost forgotten existed.

He was still an imposing man, broad-shouldered and intimidating, with a permanently serious expression and a voice that rarely rose above a low, rough murmur. He was disciplined, observant, and practical, preferring actions over explanations. His dry, occasionally dark humor remained intact, as did his blunt manner and his dislike of unnecessary conversation. He kept to himself, rose before sunrise, and approached every task with the same methodical precision he had once applied to military operations.

Then there was you, his employer's daughter.