Page 27 of Her Grumpy Cowboy
She hums, then pats my chest.“You may proceed to make me coffee.”
I chuckle.“Oh, we’re doing this now?Morning after bossiness?”
“Absolutely.I let you defile me last night.Now I expect caffeine and carbs.”
“Defile?”I growl, tickling her ribs.
Angel squeals and shoves me, but she’s laughing—nose scrunched, cheeks flushed, looking like all the good things in the world I never thought I deserved.But I do.Damn, I do.
I get up because if I don’t, I’ll pull her under me and forget the plan to feed her like a civilized man.I throw another log on the fire, set bacon in a skillet, whisk eggs, and pour batter.She watches from the sofa, my T-shirt slipping off one shoulder, hair a mess I want to tangle my hands in.
I bring her a mug of coffee the way she likes.She wraps both hands around it and inhales.I check her ankle, which looks a lot better.
We eat at the little table by the window, the world outside blanked out in white.Snowflakes drift down lazy and thick, turning the street into a frosty haven.
Angel frowns as her phone buzzes.She pulls it from her coat—where I hung it by the door last night—and her frown deepens as she reads the message.
“Talk,” I say quietly, already knowing that look.She wore it yesterday when a text pulled her mood sideways.
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, cheeks coloring.“It’s a realtor.In Bozeman.”
I don’t say anything.Just wait.
“I planned to sellMistletoe Mugafter Christmas,” she says, her voice small but steady.“Go somewhere new.”She swallows.“She’s got a buyer.Cash offer if I agree to an expedited close.Above the asking price.They want possession before the new year.I told her yesterday that I’d… think about it.”
My heart stutters.
I told myself I’d pass through this town like a ghost.Now it’s her planning to pass throughme.
“And you still want that?”I ask, keeping my voice as level as I can.Neutral.Like it won’t gut me if she chooses a future without me in it.
“Iwantedit,” she says.“Before.”
“Before?”
She looks up at me, eyes bright and vulnerable and a little scared.“Before you.”
I clench my jaw.
“Before you and Mary and Christopher,” she continues, softer now.“Before Callie.Before Silver Bell Hollow felt like it had been waiting for me to stop pretending I don’t belong anywhere.”
I hear it.The crack in her plan along with the crack in her voice, because I know exactly how she feels.
“I’ve never stayed anywhere for long,” she adds, gaze flicking back to the window.“I got used to being moved around in the system.Don’t get attached.Leave before anyone can leaveyou.”Her laugh is hollow.“Turns out, I suck at staying.Just like you.”
That last part guts me more than it should.Because I know that script.Hell, I used to live by it.Or Idid.
But not anymore, because this?Us?It’s not something I can walk away from.
Setting my cup down, I walk the couple of steps to her and hook a finger under her chin, coaxing her eyes up.“I’m not going anywhere.If you need to think, you think.But don’t let old habits stop you from reaching for what you want.We’ve both made a life out of leaving before we can be left.”
Her eyes shine, but she doesn’t look away.
“I’m tired of that,” I say simply.
She blinks, and a tear slips down her cheek before she can stop it.I catch it with my thumb, then cradle her face in my palm.
“You're not temporary to me, Shortcake.You’re not a stop along the way.Youarethe way, Angel.You’re it.I thought staying meant standing still.Now I know better.It means standingwithsomeone.One person.One woman who makes it all feel like home.”
