Chapter 2

Chapter Two

A ngel White gripped her cellphone so hard, she feared it might break. Only two words screamed through her head: Game night.

Game night, game night, game night.

Game night?

Henry stood up a step from her, a tall, imposing figure with such a handsome face. Big hands too. That deep, sexy voice, which said, “We were going to get dinner in Stinnett. We could do that, or I could—you could—we could meet here and go straight to game night. It’s at my cousin’s farm in Three Rivers, so it’s a bit of a drive.” He took a quick breath. “A little over an hour.”

A little over an hour, trapped in a truck with Henry Marshall. She wanted to go so badly, she almost started crying. At the same time, the rational, calm side of Angel’s brain told her she’d been in desperate need of a break from this ranch for a month now. Anyone who asked her would elicit the same reaction.

Bottom line: Henry wasn’t special.

He fell back a step. “Sorry I said anything,” he said. “Can we forget it? Flint, Clay and Grady said they’d come check on Levi. I’ll just cancel on game night and go see my folks.” He pulled out his phone and started typing.

“…not going…to be able to…make it tonight…”

Angel slapped her hand over his phone, knocking it clean out of his hand. Henry yelped, and they both watched his device skitter across the floor. “What was that for?” He turned and moved a couple of steps to pick up his phone.

He looked at her, pure accusation in those beautiful eyes. “You broke my phone.”

Humiliation streamed through Angel, and combined with her sheer exhaustion and ultimate desperation for a break from everything happening in her personal life, with her family, and on the ranch, an instant, emotional tornado spiraled into existence.

“I—” Tears spilled from her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Henry.” She couldn’t stand to look at him, but she couldn’t move either. She covered her face with both of her hands and sobbed into her palms.

Henry said something, but the words couldn’t penetrate her turmoil. She fell into the warmth and safety of his arms, and she distinctly knew the door had closed, sealing her in his house.

He sat her down on the couch and pressed in close to her. He said soothing things and put his arm around her. Finally, after what felt like a long time, but was probably only a few breaths, his voice reached her ears.

“…talk to me, okay, Angel? You’re okay, Angel, and you can talk to me, okay?”

She lifted her head and lowered her hands. “I’m so sorry. I’ll buy you a new phone.”

“I don’t care about the phone.”

Angel looked at him. “What?”

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, because it’s so something my daddy said to me five thousand times growing up.” He flashed her a smile, and her curiosity about his family life, his past, his childhood rose up the ranks. “But Angel, I don’t care about the phone; I care about you. Are you okay?”

“I am obviously not okay,” she said, giving him a squinty-eyed look.

“Obviously,” he fired right back. “But I mean, can I help you? I didn’t mean to stress you by asking you to game night. It’s?—”

“I want to go,” she blurted out.

His eyebrows rose, and Angel couldn’t stand sitting this close to him. Rather, she wanted to be closer, but she didn’t trust herself. “I?—”

She jumped to her feet. “I need to get off this ranch,” she said, pacing away from him. Moving while she talked really helped get her brain to work better. “Things are so stressful right now, and there’s so much going on with Trevor’s doctor’s appointments, and Daddy started coughing last week, and I have to get off this ranch.”

She faced him and ran her hands through her hair. “So if you’ll give me ten minutes to wash my face and get it fixed again, I’m ready to go.”

Henry hadn’t gotten to his feet, and he watched her from his perch on the couch. A moment passed before he said, “You can have nine minutes.”

Angel blinked and then laughter bubbled up from inside her. She honestly could not remember the last time she’d laughed, and Henry had just given her a great gift. Excitement to get off the ranch—with him—flowed through her as the laughter cleansed her from the debilitating feelings that had brought on the crying.

“You might want to reconsider,” she said. “I am very competitive at games.”

“You might want to reconsider,” he said. “It’s couples game night, and we might have to do…things we don’t want to do.”

“Like what?”

“I honestly have no idea,” he said. “My cousin and his wife pick the game, but it’s been made very clear that we need an even number of people for tonight.”

Angel’s chin quivered, but she wasn’t sure from what. Another bout of crying? The thrill of going off the ranch with Henry? Pure desperation?

“I have to get off this ranch,” she whispered.

“The clock’s ticking,” he said, and he did get up then and open the door for her. “Let me drive you back to your place.”

She didn’t protest, and Henry backtracked to get his truck keys. He opened her door for her, and he got her down the lane and around the corner to her house, which sat a hundred yards from her parents’ homestead. Only thirty from Trevor’s place, and fifteen from where their three full-time senior farriers lived.

“Six minutes,” he said, and Angel flew from the truck. She could change her clothes, swipe on some deodorant, wash her face, paint some gloss on her lips, and grab some earrings and be ready to go.

Her heart pounded through all of it, and she had no idea how long she’d been inside her house before she yanked open the front door and flew out of it again. This time, she wore a pretty blue dress with white dragonflies flitting around on it, a pair of white sandals, pink lip gloss, and she carried a pair of silver hoops in her hand.

She stuck them in her pocket as she hurried across her porch, and she used the remaining walk to Henry’s truck to run her hands through her hair and get it settled in the right place. So many pieces of her life felt fake, and Angel vaulted back into Henry’s truck with his gaze stuck to her.

He had to see her—really see her—and that idea struck Angel’s heart with pure fear.

“You look great,” he said simply, and then he put the truck in reverse and backed out of the small parking area in front of her house.

“Thank you.” She buckled and managed to get her earrings in. “Is my hair straight?” She faced him, her pulse like a gong being banged on over and over and over again. “It’s not my real hair, and I need more than six minutes to make it look normal.”

“It’s not your real hair?”

“No,” she said, when she could’ve said so much more. The truth was, she was going bald. Her. A woman. Her hair had thinned considerably in the past three years, and Angel had started wearing extensions right away.

However, those only broke the little hair she had, damaging it further. So she’d moved to wigs, and she’d settled on one that looked the most like her natural hair. She’d bought five of them, and she rotated them to make sure they could be cleaned, repaired, or replaced.

With horror, she realized she’d never told anyone she wore a wig. Not even her recent boyfriends had known. “Does it look okay?” she asked, reaching up to run her fingers through it again, trying to make sure the part sat right and the hair fell down correctly.

“It’s gorgeous,” Henry said, turning to look out the windshield again. He cleared his throat once and then twice. “Where do you want to go to eat?”

“Where were you and Levi going to go?”

“Stinnett.” He glanced over to her. “There’s a great little pub there. The Gas Light. It’s not too loud this early in the evening, and the food is phenomenal.”

“Pub food.”

“They have great burgers and chicken,” he said. “But they have amazing pizza too. And a really great mac and cheese.” He seemed perfectly at-ease, and Angel started to relax too. “Great big salads with roast beef. That kind of thing.”

“You’ve ordered a great big salad with roast beef from this pub place?”

“I’ve been with people who have.”

“Women.”

“Yes,” he said.

“Are you seeing anyone right now?”

“If I was, I’d be taking them to the couples game night,” he shot back. “Not my cabinmate.” He glared at her. “Are you seeing anyone right now?”

She folded her arms. “No.”

“Great. Neither am I. I haven’t dated since I came to Lone Star, in fact.”

“Why not?” From what Angel knew of Henry, which admittedly wasn’t much, he’d dated a lot during farrier school.

He shifted in his seat and looked out his side window. “Maybe I don’t get off the ranch as much as I should either.” He faced her and cocked one eyebrow at her. Almost as quickly, he softened. His grip on the steering wheel loosened, and he reached toward her.

But he pulled back before he made it even halfway to her, and Angel had no idea what she’d do if he tried to hold her hand. Or touch her. “I’m worried about you, Angel.”

“I’m okay.” She cinched her arms around her midsection and watched the landscape flow toward them and around them as he drove. “I just get overwhelmed sometimes. Don’t you ever feel like you’re just drowning?”

“Sometimes, yes,” he said quietly.

Angel couldn’t get air to go down the right way. Thankfully, it only lasted for a moment, and then her lungs and windpipe worked just fine. She breathed in, swallowed, and kept her gaze out the windshield.

“What do you do when you feel like that?” She felt him looking at her, but she steadfastly refused to meet his gaze.

“Honestly?” He sighed like she was asking him to cut off a hand and lend it to her for a while. “I’m a momma’s boy. When I feel like I’m drowning, I go home to my momma.”

Tears pressed into her eyes. “That sounds so nice, Henry.”

“I’m really sorry about your mom,” he said. In the next moment, before Angel could tell him it was okay, that she’d finally accepted that her mother wasn’t going to get better, he slammed on the brakes.

“Holy horses,” he said. “I forgot I’m not coming back here.”

“Not coming back here?” Angel had just repeated the words, but they didn’t make sense.

“I’m staying at my parents’ until Monday.”

“I can’t do that.”

Henry looked at her and cocked his head. “Can’t you?”

“No,” she snapped at him. “I look after Trevor, and I…. Daddy likes his eggs a certain way in the morning, and Mama can’t light the stove anymore.”

Henry reached for his phone, which rested in the cupholder. “I’ll make sure your brother and parents are taken care of this weekend.”

“Henry, no.”

“Angel, by your own admission, you need a break, and my momma will feed you, let you sleep as late as you want, and my daddy has the sweetest therapy horses in the world. You can go play ball with them or go riding. Soak in the sunshine. Enjoy the big, wide sky over my family’s ranch.” He smiled at her, and Angel could admit that everything he said sounded absolutely wonderful.

Still, she hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“It’s less than forty-eight hours,” he said gently. “And I can see you need it.” He ducked his head, his eyes on his phone but his hands absolutely still over it. “Will you let me help you?”

Angel closed her eyes and let herself go. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Okay, then,” he said. “I’m going to send a couple of texts, and then I’m going to call my momma.” He stayed stopped right there on the dirt road as his fingers tracked over his phone. A minute later, he said, “Clay, Zane, and Derrick are going to make sure your family is taken care of. Only the senior farriers, your foreman, and the team leads know you’ll be off-site for a couple of days.”

Henry looked at her, and Angel’s insides shook with nervous energy—and so much attraction to this man. “What did you say?” she asked.

“I told them you needed a break and that I was helping you get off the ranch for a couple of days. Asked them for some help with your brother and parents, and within sixty seconds, it’s done.”

Angel nodded and looked away from him. “Thank you, Henry.”

“My word, I’m going to say something my uncle lectured me about endlessly.” He gave a mirthless chuckle. “If you need help, Angel, say something. There are plenty of people willing to help you.”

“I know.” She sniffled and reached up to wipe her eyes. “I’m sorry, Henry. I swear I’m going to pull myself together before we get to your cousin’s house.”

“If you can’t, that’s okay too,” he said gently. She’d seen him working with horses, and he was this polite and respectful and kind to them too. His quiet, almost dormant strength spoke to them, and just as easily to her too. “It’s just game night, and everyone will survive without me. You just let me know.”

She drew in a breath, trying to use the oxygen to fill herself with bravery and strength. “I want to do something fun, and game night with people our age sounds fun.”

“Our age?”

She heard the teasing note in his voice, but she hid her smile. “Yes,” she said. “I know how old you are from your application.”

“Sneaky,” he teased. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight,” she said. And Henry would be twenty-seven this year. June, if she remembered right.

“That’s pretty young to shoulder all you do.”

She could only nod, because yes, she carried a lot of responsibility. “Trevor is seven years older than me,” she said. “He was supposed to take over.”

“He’s a great guy,” Henry said.

“I’ve seen you with him.” Angel released the self-hug, glad when the tension in her muscles started to recede. “You’re so kind to him. So good with him. I really appreciate it.”

“Sure,” Henry said easily. “I’ve worked with quite a few therapy patients through my daddy’s equine unit. He’s just a person.”

“Yes, well, some people don’t know how to deal with or talk to a disabled person.”

“Mm, sure,” Henry said again, and he made the turn onto the main highway, aiming the truck toward Three Rivers and not Amarillo. “Okay, we’ve got better service here. Let me call my momma. She can find you some pajamas and clothes for the weekend. She’ll probably need to get a bedroom ready for you.”

“If it’s too much?—”

“It’s not.” He cut her a look out of the side of his eye and tapped on the screen in his truck. A loud chirp filled the vehicle, and he said in a loud, clear, slow voice, “Call Momma Chelsea.”

“Calling Momma Chelsea,” his truck repeated to him, and Angel couldn’t hide her smile this time. Oh, and now she knew his mother’s name. She’d run into the woman when Henry had moved in last summer, but she’d deliberately kept all the doors between her and him closed, hoping her insane and intense attraction to him would diminish with time and space.

Sadly, that hadn’t happened yet, and now she was currently riding in his vehicle, toward his cousin’s house for game night, and then a weekend away at his parent’s house.

“Henry, baby, hey,” his momma said. “Are you still coming tonight?”

“Yes, Momma,” he said. “And I need to beware you: you’re on speaker with me and a friend.”

“Okay,” she said.

Henry looked over to her, and Angel had looked at him when he’d called her “a friend.” She would not classify Henry as a friend, and she really didn’t like him calling her that. Not because they weren’t friends yet, but because he hadn’t used the word girlfriend .

And why would he? The very thought was insane—and absolutely not allowed due to Lone Star’s dating policies.

“Momma, my friend is a woman in desperate need of a break from the stables. But I forgot to tell her I was coming for the weekend, and she doesn’t have anything. Not a toothbrush, a stick of deodorant, or any pajamas.”

His mother stayed silent for a couple of seconds. “And I’m assuming she’ll be staying for the weekend.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “It’s Angel, Momma.”

“Oh, Angel.” His mother’s voice brightened, and Angel could only imagine what he’d told her. At least it sounded like they were good things. “Okay, so you’re on your way to game night?”

“Dinner first,” Henry said. “Then game night. Who knows what Finn and Edith have planned, but they’ve got that baby now, so I’m guessing we’ll get to Three Rivers by like….” He hemmed and hawed for a moment and then said, “Ten-thirty.”

“Okay,” his momma said.

“Is that too late? We can leave early.”

“Ten-thirty is fine, baby.”

“Okay,” he said. “Ten-thirty then.”

“I’ll make sure she has what she needs.”

“You’re the best, Momma.”

“Thank you, Misses Marshall,” Angel said, leaning toward the screen where a clock ticked up the length of the phone call.

“You’re welcome, honey. See you two soon.”

“‘Bye, Momma.” Henry reached out to the screen. “Love you.”

“Love you, baby.”

Henry tapped the screen to end the call, and he relaxed back into his seat. “That actually went better than I thought it would.”

“Did it?”

“Yeah, well, I mean—yeah, she didn’t ask a bunch of questions about why you’re coming with me, if we’re dating, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.”

“Will anyone assume that?”

“Honestly?” He sighed, and that combined with his rhetorical question made her adrenaline spike. “Yeah, my cousins and friends and siblings will probably assume we’re on a date. But I’ll just tell them we’re not. It’ll be fine.”

Angel nodded, though everything inside her writhed and squirmed. “I mean, it would be okay with me if you just let them think we’re on a date. You are taking me to dinner and everything.”

Henry said nothing as he drove, the ride easy and smooth along the paved road. “I guess it feels like it could be a date.”

“Sure,” she said, mimicking him.

“But you can’t date the men at Lone Star.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to.” Angel sucked in a breath when she realized what she’d just said. She tried not to, but she looked over to Henry anyway. He wore a semi-stunned look on his face, and Angel wanted to wipe it away. Say something pithy about how she had a big crush on Levi or Clay or someone other than him. Anyone other than him.

“Okay,” he drawled. “I just need you to answer a couple of questions for me. Can you do that?”

“Maybe,” she said.

“I’ll take a maybe.” He cleared his throat and coughed twice. “One, when I inadvertently kissed you last winter, did you or did you not kiss me back?”

Angel balked at telling him the truth, but her parents had taught her not to lie. She’d been hiding a lot, and she couldn’t carry another secret. “Yes,” she said. “I did.”

“Mm hm. Yes, you did.”

She rolled her eyes, though every cell in her body told her to smile instead. “Is that it?”

“No,” he said. “If I asked you out on a real date, would you say yes?”

“That’s cheating.”

“What does that mean?”

“You just want me to tell you I’ll go out with you without you having to ask.”

“It’s against the rules at Lone Star to date anyone who works there,” he said. “I can’t ask you out, even if I wanted to—and I’m not saying I do.”

“Then why does it matter?”

“Because a man would like to know if the incredibly beautiful woman he’s had a crush on for seemingly ever would go out with him, that’s why.”

“I—”

“And because if she would, and she can feel this bubbling, sizzling thing between them, then maybe some rules need to be broken.”

“Henry Marshall,” she admonished. “You don’t break rules.”

“They’re your rules,” he said. “You could change them.”

“They’re my daddy’s rules.”

The truck traveled down the road, the signs for Stinnett coming into view. Angel sensed she’d lose him and the thread of this conversation once they stopped for dinner. But she didn’t know what to say.

He’d just admitted to having a crush on her, and that made warmed honey ooze through her veins.

“I can feel this thing between us,” she whispered.

“Mm hm. And?”

“And.” She finished drawing in her breath and blew it all out noisily. “I’d go out with you if you could ask me to.”

“Mm.”

“You hum a lot.”

“I just want you to know I heard you.” He reached over and took her hand in his. Part of Angel wanted to protest, but she looked at him and saw the determined set of his jaw.

“Henry,” she said, but she didn’t have the words to continue.

“I’d break all the rules for you, Angel,” he said, his voice soft and powerful at the same time. “But let’s not deal with it this weekend, okay? You need a break, and me adding all this to your plate is selfish and unnecessary.”

“Okay,” she said, her emotions teetering on the edge of sanity again.

“Okay.” He lifted her hand to his lips and gently pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. He said something else about the pub they’d be at soon, but all Angel could hear was the sweetest words a man had ever said to her: I’d break all the rules for you, Angel .

So she started praying that something could be done about the no-dating rules at Lone Star. But that meant talking to Daddy about his policies, and he’d never been very open to her suggestions.

Not this weekend , she told herself. She deserved a relaxing, carefree break from the ranch, and that was exactly what she was going to do for the next two days.

With Henry Marshall at her side.

Biscuits and gravy , she thought-swore. Dear Lord, don’t let this be the biggest mistake of my life.