Page 9 of An Angel for the Cowboy
He stares at me, and I watch something shift in his expression.
"Thank you for being here. She’s changing. There are things she doesn’t feel comfortable sharing with me anymore." He sighs. “We used to talk about everything.”
"She’s growing."
We’re standing close to each other, his arm warm under my hand. The moment stretches, charged with all the tension that's been building between us for days.
He steps closer. The scent of leather, hay and something masculine that makes my head spin reaches my nostrils. His eyes drop to my mouth.
"Anita," his voice is rough, his eyes dark with want.
I think he's going to kiss me. Every nerve in my body is screaming for it.
But then he jerks back, putting distance between us like I burned him.
"I can’t."
He walks away, leaving me aching and confused in the middle of the kitchen.
That night, I lie in bed staring at the ceiling. I'm falling in love with his strength, vulnerability, the way he cares for Mel and the ranch.
But he's made it clear: my staying at his house is business.
This is supposed to be about fresh starts and horses and healing from Grumps. Not about falling for a wounded cowboy who doesn't want to be healed.
But my heart doesn't listen to logic. I'm already in too deep to protect myself from the heartbreak that's inevitably coming.
I get up, unable to sleep, and put my coat on. The house is quiet and dark as I slip outside. The December air bites at my cheeks, but I need to move, need to think, need to be somewhere that makes sense.
The barn is warm compared to outside, heated by the horses' bodies. Duke nickers softly when he sees me, and I go to his stall, running my hands over his soft nose.
"I'm way over my head, Duke.”
He blows softly, as if he understands.
I lean against the stall door and let myself feel everything I've been holding back. The fear, the longing, the impossible hope that maybe, just maybe, this broken man might let himself love me back.
But hope is dangerous. And I'm starting to think I'm not brave enough to keep hoping when every sign points to heartbreak.
4
Chance
I'mdrowninginguiltand desire, and it's only eight in the morning.
Last night I almost kissed Anita. Came so close I could feel the heat radiating off her skin, see the way her pupils dilated with want. Then I pulled back and ran like a coward, even though I saw the disappointment flashing across her face.
I hate myself for it. But I hate the wanting more.
Because if I let myself really want her, not just the physical ache that's been plaguing me since she arrived, I'm opening myself up to the same devastation Jane left me with. And I can't survive that again. Mel can't survive that again.
So I throw myself into work, riding out to check the fence line in the north pasture even though I checked it three days ago. Anything to distance myself from the woman turning my world upside down.
It doesn't work. She's in my head, under my skin and wrapped around my thoughts.
I'm hammering in a fence post when I hear the ATV (all-terrain vehicle) rumbling toward me. I know before I look up that it's her. Something in me recognizes her presence, like my body has tuned itself to her frequency.
Anita pulls up beside me, and my mouth goes dry. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and there's a smudge of dirt on her cheek.
