Page 10 of Cowboy's Healing Heart

Stop and smell the flowers and watch the sunrise. It lets me know God is still in control and that I don’t have to figure it out. Just trust that if He brought me to it, He’ll see me through it.

I inhale and exhale. Trusting the healing quality of this place. I’m praying it will move through my body and push out all this unwanted anxiety and turmoil. That I’ll find my way to the other side.

Because I don’t know how much more I can take before I throw up my hands.

Enough stalling. It’s time to temptation head-on.

I open my eyes and continue the short distance to see his progress on the engine. To my surprise, he’s just finishing up.

“Done already?” I ask, unable to keep the skepticism from my voice. I cross my arms, eyeing the tractor suspiciously.

Shane straightens, stretching his back. His shirt rides up slightly, revealing a strip of tanned skin. I force my eyes away. “Yep. Want to take a look?”

I peer into the engine, looking for any sign of shoddy work. But it’s immaculate. Better than I could have done myself. Every part is in its place, gleaming with fresh oil. It’s clear he’s put care into every detail.

“Not bad,” I grudgingly admit. The words feel inadequate, but it’s all I can manage.

“…for a pretty boy,” Shane says, a hint of amusement in his voice. His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. It makes him look more approachable.

I narrow my eyes at him, pushing away the unwelcome observation. “Don’t get cocky. It’s one engine.”

“True,” he agrees. “But I did it in record time. Might even deserve a ‘thank you.’”

My hackles rise. The easy banter we’ve fallen into feels dangerous, like quicksand threatening to pull me under. “You want a gold star for doingyourjob?”

Shane’s smile fades. Something flashes in his eyes, andpuffit quickly vanishes. “What’s your problem with me, KD? I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’tneedyour help,” I snap. “I’m quite capable of handlingeverythingon my own.”

I sound like a royalbitchright now. But I don’tneedhim or anyone.

Need turns into favors. Favors into expectations. Expectations to demands. And I have nothing to give.

I’m tapped the fuck out. And I don’t need Mr. Blue Eyes to tell methisis going too far.

Shane’s expression softens, and I hate it. I don’t want his pity. I don’t want him to look at me like that.

“I’m sure you can,” he says quietly. His gentle and understanding voice makes my heart ache. But that doesn’t mean you always have to do everything alone.”

Something in his tone makes my chest tighten. It’s been so long since anyone offered me help without expecting anything in return.

I push the feeling away, replacing it with anger.

Anger is safer. Anger I know how to handle.

“You don’t know anything about me or my life,” I spit out. My hands clench into fists at my sides. “So don’t pretend like you understand.”

I turn on my heel, storming off. My heart’s pounding, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve revealed too much.

That, in my anger, big bad KD is a walking, talking nutcase.

That I’m human and flawed and vulnerable.

Fuck! Why did Andy have to hire him?

As I walk back to my cabin, boots kicking up dirt, I try to focus on what needs to be done.

Dinner for Ashanti. A talk about her behavior. Plans for tomorrow’s work. The routine tasks that keep our lives moving forward, even when everything feels like it’s falling apart.

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