The Cowboy and the Angel (6 page)

“Come inside, dear. You must be hungry after that drive.” She shuffled Angela up the porch stairs and toward the house. “Those men never stop and eat,” she fussed. “And just look how thin you are! You look like you need a few good meals.”

Angela glanced back toward the barn in time to see Derek frowning in her direction before turning back to his conversation with the woman holding an infant. He looked angry again and she had the unreasonable urge to apologize. She wasn’t sure why she should feel remorseful or why she cared if he hated her presence, but the feeling remained just the same.

She saw him tip the front of his hat toward her slightly, acknowledging her. She narrowed her eyes, assuming he was somehow mocking her, and on a whim blew him a kiss as she turned on her heel and followed Silvie into the house. She immediately regretted her childish impulse and scolded herself for her lack of self-control.

“Silvie, I’m fine. Really,” she insisted, hurrying to catch up to the woman who was surprisingly nimble for her age. “I’m not that hungry. If you show me where I’ll be staying, I’ll just start unpacking my car.”
And hide in my room doing research.

“Oh, pshh.” Silvie waved her off. “Don’t you worry your pretty head about that. I’ll get the boys to bring your things into the house and we’ll get you settled in a bit. Right now, sit, and I’ll get you something to tide you over until dinner.”

Left with little choice in the matter, Angela slid into one of the chairs surrounding a large kitchen table. She slid her hand over the well-worn surface, feeling the nicks and scratches. No doubt they had shared several family dinners around this table, filled with deep conversation and raucous laughter. She’d seen enough at the rodeo to know that Derek was fiercely protective of his family and their business. She thought of the meals she and her father had shared throughout the years, most consisting of deafening silence while he drank his entree from a bottle and she warmed some sort of frozen dinners from boxes. There’d been no laughter in her childhood, no father-daughter conversations or tenderness. Even when her mother was alive, mealtime had been an experiment in sensory deprivation, where she and her mother remained as quiet as possible to allow her father to sleep off his latest hangover. Most nights, even the silence didn’t help, and the war between them would rage while Angela hid in her room.

“So, Angela,” Silvie’s voice interrupted her depressing thoughts of the past. “What will your story be about? We really don’t see many reporters around here.”

Silvie bustled around the kitchen, filling the coffee pot with water before opening the oven to check on the food cooking inside. As soon as the oven door opened, the delicious scent of sage and garlic filled the kitchen. Angela inhaled the heavenly scent of yeasty homemade bread, and her stomach growled loudly. She covered it with her hand quickly, but Silvie had already heard it and laughed sweetly.

“You see? You are hungry.” She reached for a plate of cookies on the counter and slid it on the table. “Try these for right now.”

Angela stared at the plate. Homemade chocolate chip cookies. She tried to blink back the tears that sprung up from deep within her heart. She hadn’t eaten a homemade cookie since before her mother died. She’d been too busy taking care of her father, putting herself through school, and, later, working to spend time on anything as frivolous as making cookies. Just the sight of those baked treats conjured up the memory of a too-short period of her life when someone had taken care of her, when she remembered at least a modicum of happiness. The memories of her lost childhood burned in the back of her throat, and she tried to swallow her unbidden tears.

“Angela?” She looked up to see Silvie’s brow furrow in concern as she pulled out the chair at the end of the table. “Aw, honey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she managed to whisper as she blinked back the threatening tears. “It’s just been a long day. I’m a little tired.”

“I’m so sorry. I should have taken you right up to your room.” She rose and took Angela’s hand in hers. “Come on. Let’s get you settled upstairs.”

Silvie led her up the stairs to a small room on the right of the hall. Angela crossed the threshold and couldn’t help but smile in spite of the emotional exhaustion quickly overtaking her. The room reminded her of the room she and her mother had always dreamed about when she was a child—bright and sunny with double windows on one wall covered by lace curtains billowing in the late afternoon breeze. A queen-size bed against the back wall was draped with a snow-white bedspread dotted with cheery yellow flowers. Everything about the room made her feel happy and safe, something she’d rarely felt before.

“This will be your room for your stay. Please, make yourself at home,” Silvie instructed. “When your crew arrives, we’ve already made arrangements for them to stay in the bunkhouse with some of the boys.”

Angela’s stomach did a flip at the mention of the crew. If she didn’t get evidence of a story quickly there wasn’t going to be a crew coming, but she wasn’t about to admit that to anyone. She would make sure she found an angle for this story; she
couldn’t
fail, for her father’s sake. She just hoped it wouldn’t mean twisting the facts to make a story. She knew reporters did it all the time, but so far she’d avoided that trap. But she’d do it if she had to. She steeled herself against getting emotionally attached. Her future had to come first.

“Thanks, Silvie. This is perfect.” She made her way into the room. “Is there a bathroom where I can freshen up?”

“You’ll share the bathroom at the end of the hall with Derek. His room is across the hall, and Mike’s is at the other end. Mine is downstairs, so if you need anything, just come and let me know.”

Angela’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Derek. She’d hoped she could avoid him for the most part, but it didn’t look likely with his room mere steps away. His dark, brooding eyes filled her mind. She bit her lower lip and wondered how difficult he was going to make it for her to get the information she needed.

“Dinner will be ready in an hour, if you want to get cleaned up or lay down for a few minutes. I’ll send Sydney up to get you when it’s ready.”

“Sydney?” Angela glanced back at Silvie in the doorway before turning her attention toward someone yelling outside the window, moving the curtain aside to look out.

The view from her room was incredible. She could see the entire front pasture, where several cowboys unloaded horses. She smiled as they removed the halters and the horses ran away, twisting and bucking, tossing their heads. They looked carefree, and for a moment she felt a camaraderie with the animals, sharing their pleasure at being released from captivity. A broad-shouldered cowboy caught her attention, and she knew, even without seeing his face, it was Derek. He had several inches on most of the cowboys she’d seen at the rodeo over the weekend and he was definitely more muscular. Most of the cowboys she’d seen were on the lean side, but he seemed to have muscles upon muscles. She couldn’t deny he was gorgeous with his dark brown hair and caramel-colored eyes. When he decided to turn on the charm, she bet every female heart within a twenty mile radius melted.

She chewed at her lower lip. Handsome as he was, it wasn’t his looks that continued to pull her eyes to his frame standing in the pasture. She couldn’t explain it, but when they’d flirted over the gate at the rodeo arena, she’d seen something familiar in his eyes. She’d recognized the same haunted look she knew was in hers. They shared a sad desperation most people didn’t show. In those few moments of conversation, she knew they had both unwillingly shared an unspoken secret neither meant to reveal. Even during their faux seduction, they’d been unable to hide their desire for something more.

Angela suddenly realized Silvie was still talking to her, but she’d missed the conversation. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?” She moved away from the window, letting the curtain fall.

Silvie walked to the window and glanced outside, a knowing smile gracing her lips. “I said, Sydney is Scott’s wife. She’s our horse trainer. Scott is Derek’s older brother,” she clarified. “You’ve already met Jen, his sister, and her husband, Clay, right?”

“This morning at the arena.” Angela nodded.

Silvie walked back to the door and glanced at Angela over her shoulder, bracing her hand on the doorframe. “You’ll find we’re a close family. We take care of each other.”

Angela wasn’t sure if Silvie was issuing a warning or a promise.

Chapter Five

A
NGELA PACED THE
room, feeling like a caged animal. She’d tried to relax but her mind wouldn’t settle. Even doing research online, which usually helped calm her nerves, wasn’t doing anything to still the panicky uneasiness. She couldn’t help but worry about the story or, more precisely, her lack of a story. This would be the most important story of her career, either raising her to new levels or ruining her reputation at the station completely. Maybe some fresh air would help her get some ideas for her story and settle her nerves. If nothing else, a walk around the property would give her a chance to do a little snooping and give her a better sense of what direction her story might take.

Angela tiptoed down the stairs without alerting Silvie and snuck out the front door. None of the cowboys gave her more than a quick glance as she meandered toward the barn, as if strange women walking around the ranch were a common occurrence. She recognized a few faces from the rodeo the previous weekend, but none that she’d interviewed. As a third cowboy shunned her gaze, she began to wonder if they weren’t under specific orders to avoid her. Were they told
not
to give interviews, and if so, what were they hiding for their boss? She tried to ignore the small spark of hope that burned in the pit of her stomach as she poked her head inside the barn and thought of running into a certain hulking cowboy.

“Hello?” The only sound that greeted her was a soft rustle from the stall and what sounded like a stomping hoof. She heard a snort from deep in the barn, but there were no voices. She walked inside, grateful for a few moments of solitude to organize her thoughts into a viable plan of action.

In order to get her father the kind of help he would need, she needed to get him away from their neighborhood, away from the haunts that had become more familiar to him than their apartment. To do that, she needed to take a huge leap up the corporate ladder by getting picked up by a large station as an anchor and garnering a paycheck fitting the position. None of that was possible until she had a story—an exclusive—worthy of the large stations looking for her. It had to be controversial but, as controversial stories did, it was bound to cast a negative light on one of the parties involved. It was the nature of the news. There was no gray area; someone would take on the role of the bad guy and, in this case, it would likely be the stock contractor. Unfortunately, she really liked Mike Findley. Trying to resolve the guilt squeezing the air from her lungs, she moved toward the nearest stall and watched the horse eating grain from a flat, black bucket.

The animal was obviously well cared for, its shiny coat gleaming like copper satin where the sunlight streamed in through the open back door, and she wondered how she was going to prove these animals were abused. So far she’d only seen them given the utmost care.

If she was successful, if she found the proof she was looking for, what would the story do to Mike and his family? They relied on this business for their livelihood. She knew there was far more at stake here than just a story or her future.

What if the story broke and no one cared or she didn’t get a better station to take notice or hire her? She didn’t want to destroy this family’s business needlessly. She felt her mind at odds with her heart. She knew better than to allow herself to become emotionally invested with the subject of a story, but none of her subjects had ever welcomed her into their home to share meal or been so hospitable. So far, Mike and Silvie had offered her a taste of family she’d hadn’t felt since her mother had died. She’d never known what it was like to come home with someone to greet you at the door with a hug. She’d known only whispers and apprehension.

Would she have been this pessimistic if her mother had lived? Would they have ever escaped her father’s addiction, or would they have continued to live under the shadow of his drinking? It was hard to remember a time when her father’s alcoholism didn’t color her memories. The ones she did have were so distant she couldn’t be sure she didn’t make them up. She knew her mother had done her best to protect her from her father’s disgrace, but it hadn’t always been possible.

She crossed her arms over the stall door and laid her chin on her wrists, watching the animal as it ignored her and continued eating, still wondering which decision was the right one. Angela smiled in awed delight as the horse lifted its head and sniffed at her arms, revealing a colt hidden behind it.

“I wasn’t sure you knew how to smile.”

The horse jerked its head up as Angela jumped back, moving away from the stall, yelping in surprise. “You scared me,” she accused as Derek leaned on his shoulder against the wall of the stall with his fingers tucked into the pockets of his jeans.

She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard him come into the barn. His stance appeared casual but his eyes spoke of tension within, and she could feel distrust emanating from him.

“Silvie sent me out to find you and let you know dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes.”

“How did she know I was out here?”

A wry smile slipped to his lips. “She’s raised me and Scott. If we couldn’t sneak past her, there’s no way you’ll be able to.” He shrugged. “There isn’t much that goes on in this house she doesn’t know about.”

He was teasing, but his words hit too close to the truth. “I wasn’t sneaking anywhere. I was simply going for a walk.” She turned back to the animals in the stall, dismissing him.

“I see.”

Instead of leaving, he bumped her hip with his and mimicked her stance at the stall door, looking inside as well. She was puzzled by his playfulness but wondered if Mike hadn’t had a hand in his change of heart regarding her presence.