Chapter 38

Chapter Thirty-Eight

A ngel pushed against the nervous masculine energy flowing toward her. Henry was a bundle of anxiety this morning, and she couldn't say she was surprised. She hadn't been able to sleep much last night, and she'd been telling herself it was because today was move-in day. And move-in day was stressful for her on a lot of levels.

But faced with the tall, broad-shoulders, handsomely hot Henry Marshall, Angel knew she'd been lying to herself. She'd known it last night too, but it had been easier to rationalize away.

Not anymore.

"I just need your signature for the rental agreement," she said, refusing to make eye contact as Henry neared the table. "It's separate from the apprenticeship." She shrugged one shoulder in an attempt to be nonchalant, but if he could see her pulse, he'd know how he affected her. At least she'd broken up with her boyfriend, so she didn't have the crushing guilt she'd had back in February. When she'd kissed Henry Marshall back.

"I mean, they're connected, but separate." She fake-glanced at him as he sat down right next to her. "So you need to sign this."

She flipped open the folder, her hand flying right into her coffee mug as if she'd released a spring and it had finally been let loose. The mug slipped and hot liquid splashed over the rim and onto the papers.

"Oh, good gravy," she muttered as she pulled her hand away. She hadn't gotten a paper towel, but Henry sprang right back to his feet to get her one.

"Here you go." He pressed the paper towel onto the puddle on the page, and the dark liquid seeped into it.

Angel looked at him then, but he was settling back to his seat, the paper towel still there, the coffee stain still spreading through it. He looked at her, and the whole world froze.

Her heartbeat kept booming through her, and her breath going in tickled her nose. But she couldn't speak, couldn't think, couldn't even remember why she'd come to this cabin.

Through all her preparations to see Henry again, she had not anticipated this complete freezing of herself.

He had such nice eyes, and he'd recently gotten his dark hair cut. His beard sat neatly trimmed on his face, his sideburns melting up into the short sides of his hair. He wore his cowboy hat, and oh, that thing should be criminal on a man as good-looking as Henry.

He checked every physical-looks box for Angel, and she absolutely couldn't have that. What are you going to do about it? The thought emerged from all the other stuck things inside her, and she managed to blink.

"I can reprint this," she said.

Henry shifted, as if he didn't quite fit on the small kitchen chair. "If I can still sign it, it'll be fine." He pulled the folder toward him and used the edge of the paper towel to further dry the paper. "Oh, it's up at the top. I'm sure it's fine."

He balled up the paper towel and tossed it to the table, his eyes already scanning the page. It was a simple contract stating that his rent would be zero dollars from June first to May thirty-first, but that he'd be responsible for a flat-rate utility fee each month. Fifty dollars.

Lone Star fed the cowboys, horsemen, and farriers who worked on the ranch three times each week, did special holiday celebrations, and whatever else Angel could put together without losing her sanity or sleep.

"You got a pen, Angel?" The way he said her name in that sentence made it sound like an endearment, like a pet name, not her real name.

She held a pen in her hand, but she didn't quite realize it. "I…." She looked at him again, and this time, He nry cocked his head at her, tipping that cowboy hat smile sideways.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, his eyes darting over to his brother as he walked through the kitchen with a stack of two boxes. "I mean, I'm sure you're fine, but I don't want us working together to be awkward. I was kind of hoping it would only be weird for a minute."

Angel came to her senses, nodded, and lifted the pen. "It's not going to be awkward."

He took the pen with one eyebrow raised, didn't question her further, and signed his name to the contract with a flourish.

"And the final contract," she said, needing to get away from the cowboy-scented cologne, the piney goodness coming from him, and that smile. He wasn't even aiming it at her, but she felt it dive right into her heart and start to swim around. That so wasn't good.

She pointed to the part he'd protested about. "Daddy agreed to the change about working only with the master farriers."

"Thank you," Henry said. "I really can learn from anyone. Jake is an amazing farrier."

Angel merely nodded, and Henry flipped the page and signed his name for a second time. He sat back like he'd just finished a major project, a long sigh slipping from between his lips. He tossed the pen to the table, took off his cowboy hat, and scrubbed his free hand through his hair.

Sugar cubes , she swore in her head. The man had gorgeous hair—and a lot of it—and Angel needed to get out of this cabin, now. Stat. Immediately.

She reached for the pen and the semi-soaked folder. "Thank you, Henry," she said as diplomatically as she could. Did he hear that catch in her voice when she said his name? A man like Henry Marshall…of course he did.

He looked at her curiously, and Angel ducked her head, expecting her hair to fall down. Of course it didn't, because summer had come, and that meant Angel put her hair in a ponytail every day just to survive.

"Roll call tomorrow morning at seven," she said. "Welcome to Lone Star." With that, she headed for the door, nearly colliding with a beautiful, dark-haired woman as she did. "Oh, sorry, ma'am."

Her chest squeezed at the life in Henry's momma's face as she smiled. "You're fine." She quickly set down the bag in her hands. "You must be Angel White. Henry's told us so much about you."

"Has he?" Angel couldn't even imagine what Henry would've told his parents about her. It wasn't like they were friends, despite the amazing kiss he'd bestowed upon her a few months ago.

"He said you fought for him to be here," his momma said. "He's so thankful and real excited to be working here."

"Momma," Henry said, his voice carrying a warning tone. He pressed in close to Angel, and oh, she couldn't have that. Not when his body heat seeped into the skin along the back of her arm and her side, and not when his intoxicating scent tickled her nose—and kicked up her attraction to him—again. "What are you saying to her?"

"Nothing," his momma said, looking at her son. Angel could see where he got his dark features and some of his sass, though his mother hadn't said anything bad at all.

Angel's pulse hammered at her to get out of there, for an entirely new reason this time. "Well, I'll leave y'all to get settled. We are having dinner tonight, Henry. In the barn dining room."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and Angel slipped past his momma and out of the house. She held her head high as she went down the steps and past the trucks, her goal anywhere she could get where no one could see her.

The stable ahead was her best option, and Angel made her strides as long as possible without breaking into a run. When she entered the shadiness of the stable and darted around the corner, her breath came in quick pants.

She pressed the folder to her chest with both arms crossed over it, trying to breathe, and breathe, and breathe .

Her momma's illness didn't affect her too badly most days, but sometimes—like right now—Angel could feel how sick she was, and the hurt and grief and worry of that slapped at her until she couldn't ignore it .

Tears ran out of her closed eyes, and Angel couldn't stop them. She'd be horrified and humiliated if anyone saw her like this, and yet, she couldn't move away from the wall which only provided the barest of protections.

Lord , she thought, but her prayer couldn't continue. She simply didn't have the mental resources to put her plea to the Lord in words. It didn't matter. He knew what she was going through, and He already knew what she needed.

The soft huff of a horse's breath touched her neck and shoulder, and Angel opened her eyes. She hiccuped as she breathed in, everything that had gone rigid inside her starting to loosen as the equine dipped her head and pressed the long length of her nose against Angel's shoulder and upper arm.

She turned into the horse, one hand coming up to hold onto her mane. "Hey, girl," she whispered. "Yeah, I'm okay."

She wasn't, and both of them knew it, but if she could just stand here for while, she could wipe her face of any teary evidence and get back to her house for a few minutes before she had to go give the paperwork to Daddy.

Then she wouldn't have to see Henry until that evening, and he'd be with a lot of other cowboys. Surely he wouldn't affect her as strongly as he had today every time she ran into him, and she took a long breath in as she reminded herself she hadn't completely broken down over Henry.

But his mother…. She sniffled again, wishing she didn't have such pinching unfairness streaming through her. Wishing she wasn't quite so angry at literally everyone and everything for her family situation. A sick, now almost absent mother. An aging, grumpy father who loved her dearly but sometimes didn't know how to show it. A disabled brother who she loved with her whole soul, but who required someone to look after him pretty much all the time.

Everything felt too heavy for her to carry alone—Lone Star itself housed over two hundred horses that required around-the-clock care. They— She —employed almost two dozen men to do that job, and they all reported to her.

Her.

"I'm too small to do this," she whispered to the horse, really trying to tell God she needed help.

At the same time, she was also pretty angry with God for putting her in this situation in the first place. Even as she called on Him, and believed in Him, and loved Him, she desperately wanted Him to make things right.

For He'd let them go wrong, and He expected her to pick up the pieces. It sure seemed wildly unfair to Angel, but she didn't know what to do about it .

Daddy had taught her to square her shoulders, lift her head, take a breath, employ her faith, and go to work.

So Angel stayed with the horse for several more long minutes, until she felt like she could breathe and talk and face anyone on the ranch, and then she did those things.

She squared her shoulders and scrubbed her face clean. She lifted her head and tightened her ponytail, putting everything back together. She took in a breath until her lungs felt like they'd explode, held it, then let it all out. Let it all go.

"I love Thee, Lord," she said. "I love my momma and daddy and brother. I love this ranch. I love this life You have given me, and bless me to be grateful for it. Bless me to be able to shoulder all the burdens You have placed upon me, for I know Thou wouldn't give me anything I can't handle."

With her faith properly stitched in place, Angel faced the bright square of sunlight coming in through the open stable door.

And she went to work.