The Cowboy and the Angel (16 page)

Derek groaned, forcing himself to retreat, every part of his body rebelling against him.

“Angel,” he whispered against her lips. “We have to stop.” He could feel his arousal straining against his jeans uncomfortably and groaned as she shifted over him, pressing into closer contact the core of her desire. “Angel, you’re killing me,” he growled against her lips.

As if realizing the need she’d unleashed, she tried to pull back. But he refused to allow her to move away, tucking her head under his chin. He could tell she wasn’t ready to face the desire she’d revealed. He was surprised she didn’t fight him, but he was content to lay by the creek all day if it meant she would stay in his arms.

His heartbeat began to slow as he trailed his fingers over her back, encouraging her to relax. Her breathing soon became slow and even and he wondered if she’d fallen asleep.

“Can I tell you something?” She laid one hand over the center of his chest and rested her chin on top, looking at his face.

Derek folded one arm under his head and brushed her hair away from her face. “Anything.”

He realized he meant it. He still worried about what her story might do to the stock contracting company, but he couldn’t ignore this connection he felt with her, as if fate had bound them to one another. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, and he couldn’t explain it any more than he could fight it.

“I have never felt as welcome as your family has made me feel.” He could see tears brimming in her eyes. “I don’t want to ruin them.” She sighed and tried to roll off of his chest, and he could see her walls being re-erected.

“Whoa, don’t you go anywhere.” He reached out for her as she sat up and adjusted her clothing. Derek pulled her back between his legs. “Don’t run away this time.”

She rolled her eyes toward him. “I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” He circled his arms around her and kissed her temple.

“This,” she said, flinging her hands out. “This story, you, me, your family . . .” Tears slipped down her cheeks, unchecked, in contrast with her usual detachment.

“Angel, I’d like nothing better than for you to drop this story. But I also know that when you do, you’ll leave.” He tipped her chin up so that she was forced to meet his eyes. “I’m not ready for that. Whatever
this
is,” he said as he placed a gentle kiss to her lips, “I think we owe it to each other to explore it.”

She returned his kiss, smiling against his lips. “But . . .”

“But nothing.” He eyed her playfully. “I also think I should continue to explore this.” He trailed his finger from her shoulder down her arm to the inside of her elbow, loving the goose bumps that rose on her skin. “Maybe a little of this.” He slid his finger along her collarbone and watched her eyes darken to the deep emerald he’d seen only moments ago, and he frowned. “Maybe we should go take a look at the house after all,” he suggested, nodding toward the wooden framework.

She turned to him as they reached the concrete foundation. “It’s enormous.”

Derek shrugged. “Scott thought it was about time I move out of Mike’s house. I agreed, but I want to build it myself. We’ve been booked pretty heavily, so it’s taking longer than I hoped.”

“You’re building this yourself?” She looked surprised.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m pretty good with my hands.” His eyes slid over her body before centering on her lips. He wanted to kiss her again. In fact, he wanted to take her back to Mike’s house and disappear upstairs for the rest of the day. He forced his wayward thoughts back to the present but noticed the longing in her eyes, and he wondered if she wasn’t thinking the same thing he was. He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, her pulse beating against his lips. “This is going to be the master bedroom.”

He directed her around the skeleton of what would eventually be his home, describing exactly how he planned to finish each room and how it would look. He watched her reaction to each description, unsure of why he wanted to see approval in her eyes. He hadn’t felt this nervous since he’d climbed on a bull on a bet at thirteen, but watching her look around with awe and appreciation made his confidence soar.

“It’s going to be beautiful, Derek.” She stopped and turned toward him. “You never wanted to do this instead of rodeo?”

He shrugged. “Rodeo is what we do. Building this is just how I unwind and find myself.”

“You were lost?”

He knew she was teasing when she asked, but it felt like a knife plunged into his heart. He didn’t think she noticed the change in him until she stopped walking and stood in front of him. “Open book, remember?”

Derek gave her a lopsided grin. “Why is it that
I
am an open book but you aren’t?” He leaned back against one of the beams and pulled her between his thighs, curling his arms around her back.

“Remember when I told you there was some tension between me and Scott?” She nodded and curled her arms around his waist, making it difficult for him to concentrate. “I’ve always tended to be the ‘black sheep,’ the one who never wanted to grow up and accept responsibility.”

“Who, you?” He knew she was trying to keep the mood light, but he had to get this off his chest. He had to make her see why he couldn’t let his family down again, what kind of man he really was, even at the risk of losing her. His chest ached as he forced himself to go on.

“Last year that irresponsibility almost got Sydney killed. I got involved in something that got out of control quickly. I let myself be conned into doing something completely self-serving and by the time I realized I wanted out, it was too late. Sydney was hurt, and the stallion we’d planned on building our entire breeding program on was killed.” He clenched his jaw, trying not to relive the anguish he’d felt over the pain he’d caused. “I nearly destroyed everything my family had been working for, and Sydney paid the price for my selfish irresponsibility.”

A
NGELA COULDN’T IMAGINE
him deliberately doing anything that would harm his family. She recognized the self-loathing in his eyes and could see he blamed himself for what had happened, whether or not it was his fault. Maybe he hadn’t always been the man he was now. Maybe his mistakes had shaped him. She certainly understood how circumstances and decisions, especially painful ones, altered the future.

Surrounded by his arms, the home he was creating to find himself again, and his vulnerability, something inside her broke. She didn’t want to carry her burden alone, any more than she wanted him to bear his in silence. She fingered the chain on her neck, wanting nothing more than to erase the pain in his eyes, even if it meant sharing her most painful memory.

“I understand what it is to live with regrets.” She brushed her hand over his jaw. “My mother died when I was eight years old. I remember hearing my parents fighting in their room. They were always fighting.” She stared at the center of his chest and gave a bitter laugh. “I ran into their room and yelled at Mom to leave him alone. Not because she was wrong, but I knew if they kept fighting Dad would just start drinking again. I’d seen it happen before,” she whispered.

She shook her head at the memory. It had been years since she allowed herself to think about that night. She didn’t want to lose herself in the emotions completely. Derek’s hands were warm on her hips, holding her against him, supportive without being forceful. He shared her pain rather than turning away from her grief the way her father had done. Even Joe, in their long friendship, hadn’t allowed her the opportunity to open the vault of her heartache and purge it. But Derek welcomed the downpour of her pain with a sensitivity she’d hadn’t expected.

“Mama didn’t listen. They kept fighting. I don’t even remember what it was about. The next thing I knew she was heading for the front door and ran out into the rain. My father followed her out the door, yelling at her to get out.” She laughed bitterly. “He tried to kick
her
out.”

“Angel,” he whispered. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and wiped the tear slipping down her cheek. That one word on his lips gave her the courage to press on, trusting him with her vulnerability.

“I followed them to the stoop and she ran into the street.” Tears coursed down her cheek now and her hands fisted against his chest. “She never saw the car coming. I held her hand until the ambulance took her away, but she wasn’t conscious.”

She looked up at him. “I didn’t even go to the hospital. I took care of my grief-stricken, drunk father instead of going with her. I never got to tell her goodbye.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

Angela could read sympathy in his eyes, but there was more: bitterness and anger bubbling behind the tenderness he directed toward her. “Angel, I can’t imagine facing that choice as a child, but you took care of him. Your mother wouldn’t want you to shoulder this blame.” His brushed her hair from her cheek, kissing her eyelids. “You have no idea how much it means to me that you would share this.”

He sighed and she felt the tension fall over his shoulders. “My mistake was different. It was made by an immature, spoiled man, deliberately and selfishly. There will never be anything I can do to bring back what was lost or make up for the pain it caused.”

His voice echoed with his self-contempt as he looked around the framework of his house. “I don’t deserve this, or the forgiveness my family has given me.” He cupped her face, his lips meeting hers in a soft caress filled with heartache. “Or you. But I need you to understand what sort of man it’s made me. I can never disappoint them that way again. Not even for you.”

Chapter Twelve

A
NGELA PUT HER
fingers to her lips, which still tingled from Derek’s kisses, as she drove her sedan toward town. It had been an emotionally draining morning but she felt oddly relieved after telling Derek about her mother’s death. She wasn’t sure why she’d opened that door and allowed him to see the depths of her pain. She’d never even told Joe what had happened that night. Maybe she wanted him to know she understood the sorrow of his regret, or perhaps it was because she felt safe with him, as if he could rescue her from the grip of her past.

You better get control of yourself
.
He’s not a knight in shining armor. You don’t know this guy well enough to let him in this way.

She twisted the volume button on the car stereo, hoping some music would sooth her mind. Her Instead, she could only think about the way she’d draped herself across Derek’s chest with her hands wrapped around his neck, her lips on his, and his hands covering her breasts. She felt a blush creep over her shoulders and neck. How could she have been so shameless? A slow sizzle of desire circled in her stomach as she remembered whimpering with pleasure at his touch. How could nothing more than a thought of him cause a reaction like this when no other man had so much as stirred a single flutter?

Her phone chirped from the center console of the car and she glanced at the caller ID, pressing a button on the steering wheel to answer it, grateful for the distraction from her carnal thoughts. “Hey, Joe. I hope you have good news for me.”

“You on the way to talk with the vet?”

“I am. Depending on what I get from him, I’ll have a better idea which direction this story will take.”

She heard the pause from the other end of the phone. “What do you mean, ‘which direction’? I thought you already knew that.” He sounded suspicious. “What’s going on out there, Gigi?”

“Nothing,” she denied quickly. “But right now there’s nothing to indicate abuse at all. In fact, what I’ve seen disputes all of my research. Maybe we should try taking the other side,” she suggested.

“Are you kidding?” His voice rang with impatience. Joe was known as the Tyrant of Channel 12 for a reason—it was his way or no way.

“I’m just trying to think outside of the box. There are plenty of stories covering animal cruelty. What about one that proves the animals aren’t hurt?”

“You were the one who brought me this story. You insisted on heading out there to prove your theory and now you’re telling me you don’t have a story after all?”

“Well, I’m just thinking . . .”

“If there’s no abuse, get your ass back here and quit wasting my time.” The threat in his voice caused panic to ripple down her spine.

“There might be a few leads to follow up on after the interview today. And I still have the rodeo this weekend. I’ll let you know then.”

“Follow up on them today and call me.” She could hear the finality in his voice. Friend or not, he wouldn’t allow her to cost the station any unnecessary time or money. “And, Gigi, call your dad.”

“Is he okay?”

His voice immediately returned to that of her friend. “He’s fine, but he misses you. He needs to hear your voice.”

She sighed but was glad to have the concerned note back in his voice. “You know, you’re kind of a nag, Joe.”

His chuckle filled the car. “And you’re still my favorite reporter. But they are bugging me to get you back on the air. They’re convinced people won’t tune in if they don’t get to see your pretty face soon. Monica just isn’t as good as you are and viewers aren’t talking. When they aren’t talking, they aren’t watching.” He hesitated, as if unsure how to say what he wanted. “Gigi, I can’t lose you,” he confessed.

“Joe, I . . .” She let her words hang. She wasn’t sure how to respond. She’d always been honest with him about her feelings, or lack of them, and he knew she needed to leave to help her father. Every time he reminded her of his affection for her, guilt ate at her, threatening to overwhelm her, reminding her of how easy it would be to stay in the pitiful circumstances she found sadly comfortable.

“Just call me tomorrow and let me know the status of the story.” He hung up before she could even respond.

“D
R
. B
RADFORD
,” A
NGELA
greeted the vet, thrusting out her hand. “Thank you so much for taking time to talk with me today.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

She took a seat across from his massive metal desk. The office was decorated with various awards and degrees framed on the wall, in addition to several cards, pictures and collages of animals that he’d treated. The entire wall behind the doctor was covered with files sporting multicolored tabs. Angela inhaled the scent of antiseptic and looked around her, impressed by the cleanliness, before glancing back at the man sitting with his hands folded over a slightly round belly. He appeared to be about fifty, and his hair, what was left of it, was completely white and stood in messy tufts. His eyes were filled with humor, as if he were waiting for the punch line of a joke, and he gave her a friendly smile.