Page 6 of An Angel for the Cowboy
"This is fun for me. I enjoy organizing chaos."
I almost smile at that.
The day passes in a blur of work. I try to keep a distance between us, but it's impossible. Everywhere I turn, she's there. Helping with the horses. Asking questions about the cattle. Laughing when the barn cat rubs against her legs.
And I can't stop noticing the curves on display when she bends to pick up a bucket; the bright and genuine sound of her laugh; or the scent of her when she walks past.
I catch her watching me too. Our eyes meet across the barn, and I see the flush creep up her neck. She wants me. The knowledge settles hot and heavy in my gut.
This is dangerous.
By dinnertime, I'm wound so tight I'm afraid I'll snap. Anita makes a chicken dish with spices that smell incredible, and we eat as a family. Mel talks about school, her friends and Christmas.
"Can we decorate?" Mel asks, looking between us. "Ms. Anita said she brought decorations."
My chest tightens. We haven't decorated properly for Christmas in twelve years. Not since Jane left right before the holiday, turning what should have been a celebration into a reminder of everything we’d lost.
But Mel's looking at me with hope, and Anita's watching me carefully, as if gauging my reaction.
"If you want," I hear myself say.
Mel beams at both of us then bounces upstairs, claiming she has homework to do. I almost snort. She hates homework.
Anita and I clean up, moving around each other in the small kitchen. Our hands brush when we both reach for the same dish, and electricity shoots up my arm.
She gasps.
"Chance."
I force myself to step back. "I should check on the horses."
It's a coward's excuse, and we both know it, but she doesn't call me on it. Just nods and turns back to the dishes.
I escape to the barn, needing space from the woman who's turning my carefully controlled world upside down.
At night, after Mel's gone to bed, I stand at my bedroom window and watch Anita walk to the barn. She's wrapped in a coat, her breath fogging in the cold air. She goes to visit the horses before bed, just like I do.
We're more alike than I thought. It’s scary.
I told myself that for one year, I could keep my heart locked away safe behind the walls I'd built.
But watching her silhouette move through the moonlight, remembering the way my body responded to her curves all day and how my heart squeezed watching her with Mel; I know I'm already in trouble.
3
Anita
Duringmyfirstweekat the ranch, I throw myself into work like my life depends on it. Maybe staying busy is the only thing keeping me from obsessing over how Chance looks at me like he wants to devour me and run away at the same time.
I wake before dawn every morning, start the coffee, and make breakfast. Chance joins me in the kitchen, and we dance around each other, hyperaware of every accidental touch, every brush of bodies. The tension between us is thick enough to cut with a knife.
After breakfast, I work with the horses. Grooming, feeding, exercising. Duke has become my shadow, following me around the barn like a massive puppy. Mel's horse, Dottie, is so gentle, I can see why the thirteen-year-old girl adores her.
The afternoons I spend tackling Chance's bookkeeping disaster. It's worse than I imagined. Receipts from three years ago mixed with current bills, tax documents filed under miscellaneous, no coherent system for tracking expenses. ButI love this kind of work. There's something satisfying about bringing order to chaos.
And it keeps me from thinking about Chance.
Except that's a lie. I'm always thinking about the confident way he moves, his body speaking of years of hard labor, and how he treats the horses—gentle despite his size, patient, speaking to them in a low voice that does things to my insides.
