Page 23 of Her Saltwater Cowboy

She straightened, squinting for a better view. He was out there without a wetsuit, and she shivered. He moved with strength, precision, and never wavered until the break. He turned back around, paddled out, then turned abruptly when another wave rose.

She watched him catch it without hesitation, then ride it in. And she knew. He dropped the board on the sand, retrieved a towel, and rubbed it through his dark hair.

Their eyes met. No scowl on Chance’s face today, but instead a sort of peace that caused a tumble in her heart. His surprise spread easily to a grin, and he dipped his head in her direction, as if wearing an imaginary hat.

Can’t get the cowboy out of the surfer …

He hooked the towel around his neck and held the ends of it like weights. Thoughts she wasn’t ready for invaded her mind, a need to understand what drove him. She pushed them aside as he approached.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.”

“This your usual spot?” His voice was soft, earnest. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”

Usual spot? She hadn’t had one of those in years. She smiled. “I do come here occasionally, but honestly, I don’t have much time. Wish I did.”

He looked out to sea before swinging his chin back her way. “Here”—he reached a hand down to her—“let me help you up.”

His hand was warm and strong, and if she thought about it too much, she might realize he held on for a beat longer than necessary.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the waves curl toward the shore. Finally, she said, “You took off last night.” She didn’t mention that, just before he left, his eyes had turned dark, as if a new storm brewed behind them.

He didn’t move. “You expected me to stick around?“

Yes. No. Sort of. It wasn’t that she thought hehadto stick around; he’d surely done plenty to make sure they were all safe and provided for last night. But … it was the abruptness in his departure that she couldn’t shake.

“I, well …”

“If it makes you feel better, I escorted people to their cars after the rain stopped. Checked on the mess of guys passed out in the great room after midnight. Put out the fire.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Did I miss anything?”

“Nope.” She swallowed, ignoring his sarcasm. “I don’t suppose they’re all still asleep.”

“Like they’ve been flattened by a tornado.”

“Oh!” She turned around. “I should probably get back?—”

Chance stopped her, his hand lightly on her shoulder. “They’ll survive. Probably raiding the leftovers as we speak.”

“So, you got up early and had to tiptoe around them all?”

He was quiet for a moment. “Would’ve if I’d ever gone to bed in the first place.”

She gasped. “Chance!” She searched his face. “Tell me you didn’t stay up all night.”

His stony expression told her that he had, indeed, not laid his gorgeous head on his pillow last night. If he’d been out in the barn, resetting everything, it probably looked better than it had at the start of the party.

Willow leaned to the side, taking in Chance’s faraway expression. “You okay?” she asked softly.

Chance didn’t answer right away. “Just thinking,” he said finally.

“Dangerous habit.”

“I agree with you there.”

Neither spoke for a long while, but she had questions. Nothing about it felt awkward, and if she were honest, Willow wished she could stay all day.

“You ever get the feeling that you’re trying to fill every gap,” he murmured, finally, “but it’s never enough?”

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