The Cowboy and the Angel (8 page)

“Would you mind holding Kassie for a second?”

“I guess.” Angela stared at the baby for a moment, unsure of what to do. She’d never been near a baby before but held her hands out as Sydney placed Kassie in her care. She tucked her hands under the baby’s armpits as Kassie cooed with a wide smile and shoved a fist into her mouth, kicking her little feet like she was riding a bicycle.

Silvie laughed and moved to adjust her hands. “Here, like this.” She settled the baby on Angela’s hip and wrapped her arm around the little girl’s waist and back before returning to the sink and stacking the dishes. “Angela, I’m sorry about Derek. He’s not usually like that.”

Angela stared down at the Kewpie-doll face and felt something deep within her soften as the child stared back with innocent, chocolate-colored eyes. “It’s fine. I know he’s not happy I’m here or that I’m doing this story. I don’t know that I’d want me here either.”

“I’m curious, Angela. What do you actually hope to accomplish with this story?” Sydney sounded interested, but Angela could sense Sydney didn’t trust her completely and was worried about her motives.

It felt like an offensive move, and Angela stood, wondering if she needed to prepare for an oncoming attack. She answered with every ounce of professionalism she’d learned as a journalist in the past two years.

“Like I explained to Derek and Mike last weekend, viewers are attracted to controversy. Even the rumor of animal abuse creates controversy and ratings. I know what I’ve found in my research. When I interviewed Mike last weekend, he suggested that I come see the evidence for myself and spend some time watching more than one rodeo to see how a ranch is operated. He wants me to see how your animals are treated on a daily basis and use that as evidence for my story as well.”

“He’s hoping you’ll realize there’s no abuse,” Sydney clarified.

Angela found herself rocking slightly from side to side with the child. “I think so, too,” she agreed. She glanced down at the baby’s wide eyes staring up at her so innocently, and she wondered if she could actually report something that might cause this child to lose her home. “I’m keeping an open mind, but I’ll report what I see even if that means exposing the fact that animals are abused or mistreated.”

“And if it’s your misunderstanding?” Sydney pressed. She didn’t seem concerned that Angela might find anything detrimental.

“Well, I suppose that’s part of why I’m here. For your family to make sure that nothing I report is a ‘misunderstanding.’”

Sydney nodded and put her hands to her hips, leaning back against the counter. Her gaze bored into Angela, making her shift in the chair. “I still think there’s a lot more that you’re not telling us. You just seem like you’re hiding something.” She bent over and loaded the last few dishes into the dishwasher. Sydney turned and faced Angela, wringing the kitchen towel with her fingers. “But I don’t think you want to hurt us, so I’m willing to give you a shot.”

Angela cleared her throat, unsure of how to respond. Silvie laughed, breaking the tension, and swatted at Sydney with a kitchen towel. “Listen to you. Go on, take Kassie and head home. I’ll finish this mess.”

Angela let Sydney scoop her daughter up, feeling slightly bereft. Something about the little girl had tugged at her heart and she blinked slowly, trying to clear the quiet ache of jealousy forming in her chest. She’d never even thought about having children. Who was she kidding? She’d never thought past getting her father sober, let alone wasting time hoping for a marriage or family of her own.

Angela hurried to the sink to help as Sydney kissed Silvie’s cheek. She could see the affection between the women and felt like she was intruding. “I’ll help you, Silvie. I can at least earn my keep.” She smiled at the older woman.

Silvie passed her a towel and shooed Sydney out the door. “I’d be happy to have you help. And you,” she said, swatting Sydney on the rear end, “go home to your husband. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turned back to Angela, who waited for instructions. “That girl fusses too much. She’s going to wear herself out one of these days.”

Even in her criticism, Angela heard tenderness in Silvie’s tone. It was obvious she adored Sydney. In fact, it was quite clear from her doting attention to her family that she loved them all. What would it have been like to have someone like Silvie in her life, helping her grow up, watching out for her as she navigated the troublesome teen years?

Don’t do this
.
Don’t become attached. This story isn’t likely to end well for them.

“She’s right to worry though.” Silvie interrupted Angela’s train of thought. “About you.”

“Me?” Her voice came out with a squeak, and she cleared her throat.

Usually Angela didn’t care what people thought of her. She wasn’t one of those women who felt the need to be liked. She was more likely to allow people to underestimate her, content to disappear into the background until she decided to surprise them. She certainly never cared about upsetting people when she was trying to scoop a fellow reporter for a story. It was the nature of this business. So far, it hadn’t bothered her when she heard others describe her as a “bitch.” But, for some reason, the thought of this family thinking of her that way disturbed her. Maybe it was because they seemed unassuming or because they’d been kind to her. Either way, she wanted to change their opinion of her and quickly. She bit her bottom lip.

“I agree with Sydney that you’re not being completely honest.” Silvie narrowed her eyes, curving her finger around her pursed lips, but smiled. “But, I’ll listen if you want to open up. I get the feeling you’re carrying a pretty heavy load on those tiny shoulders.”

Angela reached for a dish, unsure how to respond, wondering how this woman was able to read her so easily. She didn’t like being the subject of her accurate scrutiny and wanted to change the subject. “How are Mike and Derek related?”

Silvie shot her a sideways glance, concern written on her brow, but she must have decided it was safe to share. “Jennifer is the oldest and Derek is the youngest. Their parents were partners with Mike when they were killed in a car accident on the way home from a rodeo.” She sighed. “The kids were all young when they died, but Derek was only about five or six. So, other than his brother and sister, Mike and I are the closest thing to family he’s ever known.”

“That’s terrible,” Angela muttered. She hadn’t expected that she and Derek would have a childhood tragedy in common. Perhaps she understood the burden he carried better than she’d imagined.

“Yes,” she agreed. “But that boy has been nothing short of a delight. He’s such a sweetheart.” She glanced at Angela before putting the dried glasses into the cupboard. “He’s going to make some lady very happy someday.”

Angela arched a brow. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same guy?”

“Please.” She flipped the dish towel at Angela. “Don’t tell me that you’re buying his macho cowboy act. That boy is just trying to prove he can protect his family.” She pursed her lips, looking disapproving. “I think he’s still trying to measure up to his brother. He doesn’t realize that the man he’s become is just as honorable as Scott.”

Ah, so there were brother issues. Angela had learned that if you let people talk long enough, eventually they would tell far more than if you questioned them. She looked through the kitchen window as she dried the last plate and caught a glimpse of a cowboy in the barn. It looked like Derek’s broad frame, and she felt a twinge of sympathy for him. Her life had been difficult without her mother, but losing both your parents and trying to live up to a standard someone else had set would have made it near impossible.

“Go on,” Silvie said, noting the direction of Angela’s gaze. “Maybe if you open up a bit, he’ll act more like the Derek I’ve helped raise.”

Angela bit her lower lip nervously and wiped her hands on her thighs, glancing back at Silvie as she waved her toward the door. If she was going to spend all of her time with this family for the next two weeks, she should make sure it was on good terms. She had a feeling that by the time her story aired, none of them would ever want to see her again.

“H
EY, COWBOY.
”

She strode into the barn like she owned the place and it infuriated him even as desire swirled in his gut. He’d come out here hoping the physical labor and a quiet place to think would help him figure out how best to protect them from the disaster he was sure this nosey redhead was going to rain down on them. Part of him wondered if he wasn’t just being melodramatic, but he could feel it in his gut: This woman was dangerous.

Instead of putting her out of his mind, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her or the way she’d felt in his arms or how soft her skin felt under his fingertips. As if his thoughts had conjured her she appeared in the barn. Derek frowned as he lifted the heavy bale of straw from the stack and tossed it into the wheelbarrow.

“What do you want?” He wheeled the straw into the empty stall and broke it open, spreading it around with a pitchfork. Sweat trickled down his bare back, but he was grateful for the physical labor. Normally, he would have cleaned stalls in the morning when it was cooler, but he’d needed to get some perspective, and the mindless task had done that. At least, it had until she’d come in.

She leaned against the open doorway of the stall, watching him work. “I thought we might talk,” she suggested.

“So, talk,” he said, barely glancing at her before focusing on the straw at his feet again.

“I know you don’t want me here.”

He laughed out loud. “And here I thought I was hiding it so well.”

“But Mike invited me and this is my job.” She folded her arms over her chest. “We can either get along or . . . Well, it’ll be a miserable couple of weeks for us both if we can’t manage to at least tolerate one another.”

He stood up, leaning on the handle of the pitchfork and trying not to notice the way her folded arms made her breasts fill out her shirt. He forced himself to focus on her eyes but even that was dangerous territory. “Just how do you propose we do that? Should I just ignore the fact that you’re hell-bent on proving something about us that’s simply not true?”

She stared silently at him for a moment, biting her lower lip, before her gaze slipped from his face and down to his bare chest, slick with sweat, dotted with straw chaff. Her eyes darkened with desire, and the corner of his mouth curved upward in a cocky grin as he waited for her reply.

“Earth to Angela?” he teased.

Her eyes jerked upward and she blushed furiously, her fingers fidgeting with a ring hanging from a gold chain at her throat. “I . . . I should go back.” She glanced toward the house. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“Chicken,” he taunted.

He wasn’t sure why he wanted to goad her, but the desire he could see in her eyes sent a white-hot jolt of need through him, shocking him. He was convinced he must be completely irrational to continue to entertain the visions of her hands on him. The heat of his body suddenly had less to do with physical exertion and more to do with the intensity of her gaze.

She lifted her chin in defiance, as if daring him to challenge her. “Is it really that hard for you to believe that I just want to do my job?”

“When you look at me that way, it is.” Derek laughed quietly at the blush that crept over her cheeks.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He arched a brow in disbelief as she played with her necklace a moment longer before tucking her fingers into her pockets. “What are you so worried about anyway? You keep saying that you take good care of your animals. If that’s true, then that’s what I’ll report.”

There it was, the ice-cold reporter he’d seen when he’d turned her away at the rodeo. He wondered which woman was the real Angela: the emotionless ice queen he saw now or the blushing temptress he’d pinned against the wall earlier. Derek tossed the pitchfork into the wheelbarrow and moved it toward her, forcing her to exit the doorway and stand in the aisle of the barn.

“I seriously doubt you’re concerned at all with the truth.” He shut the door to the stall and stood in front of her with his arms crossed. “You’re looking for something, but it’s not the truth. And I’m not going to let you use my family for ratings.”

She cocked a hip to the side and looked thoughtful. “You know, you protest an awful lot for someone with nothing to hide.”

“Who me? I’m an open book.” He shrugged. “Ask me anything you want.” He pushed the wheelbarrow to the back of the barn and reached for his t-shirt, which lay across a nearby bale of straw. He slapped it against his thigh to knock off the bits of straw, slid his arms through the holes, and slipped the material over his head. “You wanted an interview? Now’s your chance.”

“Open book, huh? Okay, I’ll call your bluff.” A flash of curiosity lit her green eyes and she gave him a slight smile.

His mouth felt like he’d swallowed cotton balls, and he clenched his fists to keep from burying his fingers into her hair and taking her mouth hostage. Derek shrugged, pretending that her nearness wasn’t tying his stomach in knots, and sat on a bale of alfalfa stacked in the aisle of the barn. “Give it your best shot.”

She arched a brow and stepped in front of him, immediately falling into her reporter persona. “Tell me about yourself.”

“That’s not a question,” he pointed out with a lopsided grin. “What do you want to know? I’m the youngest of three. You met Jen and her husband, Clay. She’s the oldest, then Scott.”

“He and Sydney are newlyweds, right?”

Derek nodded. “They were married about seven months ago.” He wasn’t sure where her questions were leading, but so far they seemed harmless.

“What about Mike’s wife?” She tipped her head to the side and crossed her arms in front of her.

Derek narrowed his eyes and wondered at her defensive gesture. He was the one under the barrage of questions, yet she felt the need to put up barriers? “She died when I was just a baby. I never knew her. Silvie has never married, but she’s worked for Mike as long as I’ve been here. Anyone we’ve forgotten?”

She reached for the necklace again; her other arm stayed wound around her waist and twirled the ring between her fingers. “What about you?”