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, Henry 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 hisfree 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’thave 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.