Page 15 of Cowboy Friend Zone for Christmas

“Read it,” Nash urged.

She scanned its contents. “No way!” It was an invitation for him and his brothers to participate in a month-long special rodeo performance.

We’ll take whatever routine you and your brothers come up with, Angel and Willa wrote. Broncs, roping, trick riding, comedy improv… The main attraction will be you, of course, and your bionic arm. We’d love for you to add a short motivational speech to the beginning or end of each performance that showcases the challenges you’ve overcome in recent months. We believe with all of our hearts that your story is one that needs to be told.

“Oh, wow, Nash!” Noelle gazed in wonder at him. “I agree wholeheartedly. You should do it.”

His gaze glinted warmly into hers. “I want to.”

She refolded the letter and slid it back inside the envelope. “What do your brothers have to say about it?” She watched him raptly as she returned the envelope to him.

He tossed it on his desk. “Don’t know. I haven’t told them about the offer yet.”

She gaped at him. “Why not?”

He reached for her hand again. “I wanted you to be the first to know, which wasn’t easy with the way you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I wasn’t?—”

“You were,” he interrupted with mock severity.

“Okay, maybe I was. A little.” She rolled her eyes at him.

“Man!” He drew a deep breath and let it out. “It’s good to have you back.”

“I didn’t go anywhere,” she reminded, though she knew what he meant.

“Funny,” he grumbled. “From my angle, it felt like you were a million miles away this week.”

“Eh, well, it is a pretty long walk to the riding ring,” she teased. “This is a big barn, and the principal’s office is on the opposite end.”

“Just stop,” he groaned, glancing down as he toyed with her fingers.

She felt her insides melting like they always did when he was being super sweet like this.

“Do you mind when I do this?” He raised his head to lock gazes with her, looking worried again.

“You mean when you play This Little Piggy Went to the Market with my dusty horse trainer hands?” It took a little more effort this time to keep her voice light.

He snorted. “Yeah. That.”

“No. Why should it?”

“Because we’re in a friendship pact, and I hold your hand. A lot.” Despite the concern in his voice, he didn’t let her fingers go. “Don’t want you to think I’m crossing any lines.”

Her heart sank a little at the sensation of being body slammed back into the friend zone. To cover her inexplicable surge of disappointment, she tried to make a joke out of it. “Who am I to deprive you of the pleasure of holding my dusty digits?”

He gave her a crooked smile. “As long as you don’t mind, I’d like to keep doing it. It makes this part of me feel more human.” He gently raked his mechanical fingers first over her palm, then across the top of her hand. “It’s never going to have the same sensation as my other hand, but it helps.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but stopped.

“Helps with what?” she prodded gently.

“The pain.” His voice was low.

She felt the color leave her face. “Nash, if you’re in any pain, we should take you in for an x-ray,” she declared breathlessly. Visions of hairline fractures from his bronc riding competition spilled like poison through her mind.

“Relax,” he chided, lacing his fingers through hers again. “I was referring to the phantom pain. I’ve been told it’s part of the healing process.”

She worriedly scanned his features. “How bad is it?”

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