Page 32 of Craving Her Cowboy
Her cabin was too far away but he could only picture her still standing there. Her silhouette sharp against the blue-white of the sky and his letter still clutched in her hand.
He watched for a full minute, then two. Hoping for a sign, a sprint, a shout, anything.
Nothing.
He turned back to the road, stepped harder on the gas pedal, and let the world peel away under his tires.
***
Asha stood on the porch, bare feet stinging on the cool planks, letter wadded tight in her fist. The truck’s taillights shrank to pinpricks at the bottom of the hill, then blinked out the further he drove away. The cool morning air whispered for her to get the day started, but she held back.
She didn’t go inside right away. Just stared at the curve in the road where he’d vanished, wind cutting under the hem of her sweats, fingers numb around the letter. She waited, like maybe he’d double back, come roaring up the drive and tell her it was all a mistake. He didn’t.
After a minute, maybe two, she lowered her arm and looked at what was left. The paper was warm and slick with sweat, the ink bled a little at the edges. She traced the fold with her thumb, then opened it and smoothed it flat on her thigh.
She read the words one more time. Then again, slower. She let the sentences work into her skin. Her breath caught at the third line. By the end, her eyes stung like she’d been swimming laps in chlorine.
She pressed her palm hard to her chest, tried to knead out the ache behind her ribs. It didn’t move. The letter fluttered in her lap as she let her hand shake, just a little, then stilled it with a fist.
She went inside. The cabin felt like a tomb—quiet, close, all the air pressed out. She set the letter on the counter, washed her hands, then sat at the edge of the bed and read the page one more time. She traced the words with her finger, stopping on the ones that mattered.
"I just wanted to matter. Not to the ranch, not to my father, just…to you."
She closed her eyes. The words echoed, low and insistent.
Her phone sat on the nightstand, screen glowing with the time and two notifications. None from him, of course. The first was from the nonprofit in Boulder, a gentle reminder about the deadline. The second was a booking code for a Denver flight, sent the day before.
She thumbed the phone open, stared at the contact list. She found the number for the nonprofit, hovered over the call button, then set the phone down. She flexed her hands, ran them over the scratchy wool of her sweatpants, then reached for the phone again.
She hit CALL.
A ring, then another. A click, and the woman’s voice, bright and too awake for the hour.
“This is Melissa.”
Asha cleared her throat. “It’s Asha Monroe.”
The pause was quick but audible. “Asha! Hey! We’re all set for your start date—did you have questions about the move?”
Asha steadied her breath. “I’m sorry Melissa, but I can’t take the job.”
Another pause, longer this time. “Is this about the salary? Or—”
“No, not at all. It’s a great opportunity, but for me, right now, I have to pass.”
The woman tried for a smile in her voice, but it just came out forced. “You sure?”
Asha glanced at the letter, lying open on the bed. “Unfortunately, yes. Thank you again for the opportunity.”
Melissa gave her the standard line about keeping the door open, about how much they’d valued her experience, all that. Asha waited for her to finish, said thank you, and hung up before she could say anything else. Yes, it was her dream job, but Asha’s priorities had just changed. She didn’t know if she was aboutto make the biggest mistake in her life, but she had to take the chance.
She sat there for another few seconds until the phone went dark. Then she started to move. She stuffed the suitcase with clean clothes, boots, and her running gear. She hit the bathroom, grabbed her toothbrush, then took one last look at the tiny shower and the lines of her own face in the mirror.
She called the main house, caught Miss Bee on the second ring.
“It’s Asha.”
“I know who it is, sugar. What’s the news?”
