Page 4 of The Way to a Cowboy's Heart

The concern on his face made her feel almost worse. There he was, homeless, unemployed, living off God knew what, and he was worried for her. She had plenty of money to get by for a while. She wouldn’t be on the street next month. Or even next year.

She would just be…what? Deported. That was what.

“Today’s just… rubbish. But I’ll get through this. Don’t worry about me, Pete.”

“You know, most people never give me the time of day. In fact, most won’t even look me in the eye. But you did. And even though I’m just a nobody, livin’ on the street, I do. Worry, that is,” he said, handing her the box.

“Well… thank you.” For a moment, she searched his face. “If you don’t mind my asking, where are you from, Pete?”

He looked at first confused by her question. “Kentucky. Originally. Outside ’a Lexington.”

“Oh, I adore Kentucky.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

“I’m not from here originally either,” she said.

He smiled at her. “You don’t say, now?”

Emily rolled her eyes knowing it was quite clear to everyone she was an import. “Sometimes, I think I should just go home.”

He stared down at the floor. “Yeah. I get that. Thing is, I got nothing to go back to Kentucky for. Nobody, that is. They all gone.”

“I’m sorry.”

His face brightened a little. “I’d better let you go. I hear your train a’coming.”

She frowned for a moment. “Wait. Will you hold this for me for a minute again?”

Confused, he did, and she took out a pen and scribbled on a piece of paper, then handed it to him. “I’m having… a dinner party tonight, despite—or rather in direct defiance of—what happened today. I do it once a month for friends and even some friends of friends that I don’t know. Strangers. I do it because I love to cook, and I love to cook for people I care about and because that… well, that job I just lost, let’s just say it was not exactly a facilitator for human connection. Here. That’s my address. I’d love it if you would come.”

“Oh.” A look of horror crept to his expression. “What?No.I-I couldn’t. No.”

“You could,” she said taking the box back. “I’m inviting you. They’re all very nice people. You should come. The food will be good. I promise.”

He backed away. “I… I don’t… no. I don’t need a pity dinner. Thanks.”

“No. Not pity,” she said quickly. “Pete. You’ve always been so kind to me. You look out for me, save me from wayward cab drivers and icy sidewalks. Today wasn’t the first time. And I… I just want to say thank you.”

“That’s enough. Your thanks. That’s enough. You been good to me, too. But no. I couldn’t.”

“Okay. But you keep that,” she said, pointing at the address. “If you change your mind, I’m just up the B line. Seven p.m. And… if I don’t see you, I hope our paths will cross again one day.”

“Yeah.” He shuffled his feet, then looked up at her through his dark lashes. “Goodbye, Ms. Quinn.”

She smiled a little sadly at him. “Pete.”

“Ya’ll take care, now.” He nodded and disappeared up the steps they’d come down.

She sighed. Drat.She’d messed that up, too. Why did she even ask him that? She’d probably insulted him somehow. At the very least, angered him. Of course, he couldn’t imagine that he would feel comfortable with her friends. But he didn’t know her friends. And she’d meant every word.

There was something about him. He wasn’t a drug user. She knew enough of those to recognize the signs. He was simply unhoused and alone and whatever had happened in his life to put him there made her want to do something for him. But he’d taken it wrong.

Could this day get any worse? No, no. Don’t ask that question. Ever.

Buck up, Emily. This is your life now.

The train pulled onto the platform, and she juggled the box in her arms as she navigated the crowded doorway of the train as several people pushed past her. With her wonky shoe, soaked hair and her arms full, she was a disaster by any measure, but she didn’t care. No one and nothing could make her feel any worse than she already did.

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