Page 44 of Take Me Away, Cowboy

Before she’d lost her only daughter and son-in-law, that is. That had ended not only family dinners, but anything resembling a family period. His grandmother had fought for custody of him but lost that battle as well as her livelihood to a stroke. He wondered how different his life would have been under her loving care instead of his abusive uncle.

Up on the ridge he hadn’t wanted to tell Paige much about his history, but now that she was sick, he wished he hadn’t shied away from her in any respect. He had nothing to be ashamed of—he’d done his best to make a name for himself after he’d booked it from his uncle’s house at seventeen.

Owen sighed. He didn’t want to keep making the same mistakes, keep himself locked in tight, afraid of what would happen if he was at all vulnerable. Paige made him want more. Maybe he’d get a minute to tell her that evening at dinner.

Before he got to the door, he looked back at the work he’d accomplished over the past three days. There was a pride spreading in his chest as he surveyed the fruits of his labor.

Hardly an animal alive in the Northern Hemisphere could breach his new stronghold. Damn, did it feel good knowing he’d done the work himself.

He couldn’t wait to share that with Paige, too.

Leaving the corn to steam before he finished it up on the grill, Owen stripped the sweaty, dirt-crusted clothes off his equally sweaty, filthy body and jumped into a hot shower to clean up. He took a cursory look at himself in the mirror when he was ready. He wasn’t so modest he couldn’t appreciate how the flannel shirt hung on his frame. Frankly, he was surprised at the way he’d filled out in the matter of a few weeks. He’d always been strong—his job had demanded it from all the men on his team as a matter of survival. But now, he could see the difference between vanity muscles and functional fitness. The latter changed his physique entirely.

Every muscle on his thinner frame was visible through the fabric in stark detail. He was sinewy, built like a track sprinter, but with the bulk of a powerlifter because of all the on-the-farm crap he had to lift. He finally had the deep-V muscles at the bottom of his abdomen that led south of his jeans, a muscle he’d once admired on ultra-athletes. He was proud again, this time of the way he’d used his body in a way that was purely on-demand. Gone were the hours spent in the gym to build muscle he’d never use.

Now, he ran because the mountain air restored him, but otherwise, the farm acted as his daily workout. Hopefully, Paige didn’t mind the change.

Owen headed downstairs, trying not to think too hard about the dinner that night as he wrapped up the corn and whipped up the sauce. He was just a friend of the family, checking up on one of them who’d recently had a pretty major surgery.

Which, of course, was bullshit. Paige was much more than just a friend. Sex definitely muddied the waters of friendship.

Which left Brad. What was he supposed to say to the guy at dinner? Brad had been his buddy one minute, helping fix Owen’s fence, his mortal enemy the next when Owen had brought Paige off the mountain, badly bruised and broken. He understood the brotherly instinct to protect a sibling, especially a petite woman like Paige, but Brad had to realize Owen would protect and help Paige at any cost. If he could have prevented what had happened on the mountain he would have.

He shuddered to think how that would have wound up though, with Paige’s diagnosis and all.

The whole thing was a mess. He would just apologize to Brad for putting his sister in a precarious situation and hope that was enough to smooth things over, for dinner at least. They didn’t have to be best friends, but he hoped they could be amicable when Owen stopped by. Because if Paige wanted Owen in his life, no force on Earth was going to keep him from her.

Not even her brother.

Owen sighed, figuring he’d better get on his way. He was never late, and tonight wouldn’t be a good time to start.

Walking up the path that wore flat through the tall grasses to the Connors’s farm, Owen noticed how nice, how mature all the landscaping was in their front yard. How the simple but classy modern rustic furniture complemented the foliage. The whole design was remarkably similar to his own tastes, that was if he ever got around to decorating his place. The farm came first, would always come first, but that suited him fine. That’s what he was there for, after all. It wasn’t like he entertained much anyway.

That could change. If he and Paige got off on the right foot at dinner, he would love to have her over. Cook for her. Care for her. His heart fluttered imagining that particular iteration of a future.

Paige as his future.

Owen knocked, careful to keep the corn and sauce steady. He was so preoccupied he didn’t notice the door open until he heard a small cough to get his attention.

He whipped around to find himself face-to-face, or rather chest-to-face, with Paige.

“Hi,” was all he could get out.

She looked the same, just more tired. Her hair rose in spikes, like normal, and she wore a loose-fitting sundress that still managed to show off curves he already knew by heart.

He wasn’t sure what he expected, but this wasn’t it. Though his heart pounded like it would knock a hole in his rib cage, other, more primal, parts of him woke up to the sight of her. She bowled him over, every time, and after surgery was seemingly no exception.

“Hi, yourself,” she said, a smile curling the right side of her lips.

“Um, I brought the corn.”

I brought the corn?!He mentally flagellated himself for such an asshole of a statement.I brought the corn, and how was your cancer removal surgery?Jesus.

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head at himself, wishing he could disappear behind his hat and hair.

She laughed, a lighthearted giggle that lifted his spirits. He didn’t miss the way her eyes crinkled in pain, though.

“Are you all right?”

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