Page 9 of Her Grumpy Cowboy
A pause.Then she exhales, long and slow, fogging the glass again.“All over.I never knew my parents.I was a state kid—foster homes, group placements.I got used to packing light and not staying long.”
Something twists in my chest, but I don’t speak.She’s not done.
“I was working this dead-end job in Denver when I got the call,” she says, her voice dipping a little.“Some lawyer I thought was a scam at first.Said I’d inherited a coffee shop from my aunt.”She huffs a small laugh.“I didn’t even know Ihadan aunt.Never married, never reached out.The lawyer said she’d left everything to me.No letter.Just… the shop.The apartment above it.A bank account that didn’t suck.I told myself I’d come for a couple of months.Get it running, fix it up a bit, then sell and move on.”
“And now?”I ask.
Angel finally turns to me, something soft and unguarded in her eyes.“Now I’ve been here over a year.And I’m still trying to figure out if I stayed by accident… or if I just didn’t want to leave.”
My brow furrows as something clicks.“Wait.Your aunt’s name was… Merry?”
Angel tilts her head.“You knew her?”
“Everyoneknew Merry,” I say, the corners of my mouth pulling into a genuine smile.“She ran that place like it was her stage.Loud floral aprons, cinnamon rolls the size of your head, and an opinion about everything.She once kicked me out for putting my muddy boots on the chair.”
Angel snorts, eyes brightening.
“She also gave me a free hot cocoa the next day.Said boys grow out of messes if you feed them enough sugar.”
“That’s weirdly sweet.”
I nod, the smile fading into something deeper.“She had a mouth like a trucker and the heart of a grandmother.Nobody ever mentioned family, though.I always figured she didn’t have any.”
“Same,” Angel says softly.“Until she left everything to me.”
I look at her again—this woman who somehow shares blood with one of the town’s most unforgettable voices.Angel is even more woven into this place than either of us realized.
“Guess you were never really a stranger here,” I murmur.
She nods.“Maybe that’s why I stayed.Because of the people.Like Mary and Christopher.And Callie, the baker at Naughty List Ranch, is a good friend.And Kitty Sutton.She’s married to Tom Sutton.”She looks at me.“Do you know the Suttons?”
“Yeah.I know all of them.Grew up with Tom.”
Angel smiles into her scarf.“Kitty brought me a box of cinnamon rolls the week I moved in and then apologized for the frosting being ugly.It was perfect.”
“I stopped at their place on my way here yesterday.He said he’d swing by the Christmas Eve bonfire.He told me his brothers, Henry and Angus, are married too.”
“You say ‘married’ like it’s an affliction.”
“More like a miracle when it comes to those three brothers,” I deadpan, and she laughs again, which I decide is a sound I’d like to be responsible for regularly.
The drive doesn't take long, but I find myself wishing it did.Angel’s presence is like a warm current in the cold cab—quiet and steady.By the time we pull up the gravel drive, the early morning sun has turned the snow into a sheet of glitter.
She sits up straighter as the big red barn and white-fenced pastures come into view.“I love it here.It’s like a Hallmark movie meets real life.”
Mary’s already outside when I park, bundled up in her oversized coat and signature knit hat shaped like a chicken.She spots us, waves in greeting, and starts toward the truck with a grin.
I round the front of the truck and open Angel’s door before she can try to get out on her own.She eyes me like she might argue, but when I slide my hands to her waist and lift, her breath hitches.Mine does too.Her body presses against mine for a half-second too long—long enough to feel how damn good she fits there.I’m already missing the weight of her before her boots touch the ground.Taking care of her is already becoming a habit I don’t plan to break anytime soon.
Mary watches with a knowing expression and quiet approval.“About time.I was starting to think you’d gotten lost, Grady boy.”She turns her gaze to Angel.“Morning, sweet girl.Foot still sore?”
“A little,” Angel admits.“But I’m good.”
“Liar,” I mutter.
She ignores me and grins at Mary.“I’m here for supervisory duties.”
Mary chuckles.“Good.Maybe he’ll actually get that star on the tree without breaking something.”
