Page 4 of The Cowboy Who Worked Late

“…not going…to be able to…make it tonight…”

Angel slapped her hand over his phone, knocking it clean out of his hand. Henry yelped, and they both watched his device skitter across the floor. “What was that for?” He turned and moved a couple of steps to pick up his phone.

He looked at her, pure accusation in those beautiful eyes. “You broke my phone.”

Humiliation streamed through Angel, and combined with her sheer exhaustion and ultimate desperation for a break from everything happening in her personal life, with her family, and on the ranch, an instant, emotional tornado spiraled into existence.

“I—” Tears spilled from her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Henry.” She couldn’t stand to look at him, but she couldn’t move either. She covered her face with both of her hands and sobbed into her palms.

Henry said something, but the words couldn’t penetrate her turmoil. She fell into the warmth and safety of his arms, and she distinctly knew the door had closed, sealing her in his house.

He sat her down on the couch and pressed in close to her. He said soothing things and put his arm around her. Finally, after what felt like a long time, but was probably only a few breaths, his voice reached her ears.

“…talk to me, okay, Angel? You’re okay, Angel, and you can talk to me, okay?”

She lifted her head and lowered her hands. “I’m so sorry. I’ll buy you a new phone.”

“I don’t care about the phone.”

Angel looked at him. “What?”

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, because it’s so something my daddy said to me five thousand times growingup.” He flashed her a smile, and her curiosity about his family life, his past, his childhood rose up the ranks. “But Angel, I don’t care about the phone; I care about you. Are you okay?”

“I am obviously not okay,” she said, giving him a squinty-eyed look.

“Obviously,” he fired right back. “But I mean, can I help you? I didn’t mean to stress you by asking you to game night. It’s?—”

“I want to go,” she blurted out.

His eyebrows rose, and Angel couldn’t stand sitting this close to him. Rather, she wanted to be closer, but she didn’t trust herself. “I?—”

She jumped to her feet. “I need to get off this ranch,” she said, pacing away from him. Moving while she talked really helped get her brain to work better. “Things are so stressful right now, and there’s so much going on with Trevor’s doctor’s appointments, and Daddy started coughing last week, and I have to get off this ranch.”

She faced him and ran her hands through her hair. “So if you’ll give me ten minutes to wash my face and get it fixed again, I’m ready to go.”

Henry hadn’t gotten to his feet, and he watched her from his perch on the couch. A moment passed before he said, “You can have nine minutes.”

Angel blinked and then laughter bubbled up from inside her. She honestly could not remember the last time she’d laughed, and Henry had just given her a great gift. Excitement to get off the ranch—with him—flowed through her as the laughter cleansed her from the debilitating feelings that had brought on the crying.

“You might want to reconsider,” she said. “I am very competitive at games.”

“You might want to reconsider,” he said. “It’s couples game night, and we might have to do…things we don’t want to do.”

“Like what?”

“I honestly have no idea,” he said. “My cousin and his wife pick the game, but it’s been made very clear that we need an even number of people for tonight.”

Angel’s chin quivered, but she wasn’t sure from what. Another bout of crying? The thrill of going off the ranch with Henry? Pure desperation?

“I have to get off this ranch,” she whispered.

“The clock’s ticking,” he said, and he did get up then and open the door for her. “Let me drive you back to your place.”

She didn’t protest, and Henry backtracked to get his truck keys. He opened her door for her, and he got her down the lane and around the corner to her house, which sat a hundred yards from her parents’ homestead. Only thirty from Trevor’s place, and fifteen from where their three full-time senior farriers lived.

“Six minutes,” he said, and Angel flew from the truck. She could change her clothes, swipe on some deodorant, wash her face, paint some gloss on her lips, and grab some earrings and be ready to go.

Her heart pounded through all of it, and she had no idea how long she’d been inside her house before she yanked open the front door and flew out of it again. This time, she wore a pretty blue dress with white dragonflies flitting around on it, a pair of white sandals, pink lip gloss, and she carried a pair of silver hoops in her hand.

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