The Cowboy and the Angel

by T. J. Kline

  “Casanova’s okay?” Sydney asked.

  Derek’s eyes never left Angela. “Content with his mom, isn’t that right?”

  “Um, he seemed to be,” Angela stammered uncomfortably, glaring at him.

  “What was it about rodeos that interested you, Angela? It’s not something reporters are usually drawn to,” Sydney asked.

  Derek arched a brow and gave her a smug grin. Sydney might sound like she was making conversation, but he knew her well enough to know she was fishing for information, trying to draw out their guest’s motives.

  “Actually, I don’t know much about them other than what I’ve learned in my research. Last week I had an anonymous caller warn me that there would be animal cruelty at the rodeo. I wanted to investigate the claims further.” She smiled. “That led me here.”

  Derek spooned some of Silvie’s famous chicken pot pie onto his plate and shoved a heaping forkful into his mouth, forcing himself to keep his mouth shut. There was no sense in attacking her again, at least not until she did something that would warrant it.

  “So, you’re still doing research?” Mike asked. “Or have you already chosen your side of the argument?”

  He dished up his own plate and indicated that Angela should hand him hers. He spooned a large helping onto it before passing it back to her.

  “Well . . .” She paused, looking conflicted. “I don’t know. What I’ve found in my research doesn’t look promising for the sport in general.” Derek watched her play with her food, poking at it with the fork nervously. “But, I don’t really choose sides. The news is impartial. I report the facts and let viewers make their own decisions.”

  “Bullshit.” Derek’s outburst caused every adult at the table to turn and stare at him. “You know damn well people believe whatever the media says, right or wrong. You’re making the decision for them when you go on the air and your mind was made up when you showed up at that gate yesterday.” He pointed his fork in her direction.

  Her eyes blazed with emerald fire, reminding him of a cat stalking prey, but her voice remained calm—too calm. “I am reviewing both sides of the evidence, Mr. Chandler. That is my job. As I was saying”—she looked at Derek pointedly—“so far, it doesn’t look favorable for the sport of rodeo. There are multiple incidents of injury, abuse, and mistreatment of animals but I’m here so you can show me another side of rodeo, and to experience it firsthand. Unless, of course, you plan on showing me only the favorable side of rodeo.”

  “And if we prove to you that we don’t mistreat our animals? That’s the story you’ll report?” Derek scoffed. “Isn’t that a bit boring?” He arched a brow in disbelief. “It won’t get those ratings you said you’re looking for.”

  Angela opened her mouth to argue, but Scott spoke before she could answer. “Then I assume you’ll be heading out with us on Thursday to our next rodeo?” Scott’s voice was tight, and Derek could tell he was barely holding his temper.

  “I believe that’s what we had planned.” She glanced at Mike for confirmation.

  Mike nodded. “Yep, although we’ll need to figure out some sort of sleeping arrangements before we leave. Maybe you can stay with Sydney. Scott and Derek can bunk together.”

  Derek shot a look at Mike. “And in the meantime? Is she just going to wander around the ranch? Who knows what kind of trouble she’ll get into or where she might sneak a camera?”

  “I’m still sitting right here,” Angela pointed out. “And I have plenty of online research to do before we leave on Thursday.”

  “Actually,” Mike interrupted, “the best way for you to see what we do is from the back of a horse. Have you ever ridden?” Derek saw her eyes widen and the color drain from her face at the suggestion.

  “I . . . um, I’ve never been around animals,” she admitted. “Except a few stray cats I fed in our neighborhood.”

  “Then you’re in for a treat. While you’re here we’ll teach you how to ride and how to take care of cattle.” Mike winked at her, beaming as if someone had just told him tomorrow was Christmas morning and he was playing Santa Claus. “Maybe we can even teach you to throw a rope. You’ll learn all the ins and outs of a ranch.”

  Derek shook his head and took a long swallow of his tea, wondering what Mike was thinking.

  Scott was the only voice of reason. “Are you going to teach her all of that, Mike? I will be in the north pasture fixing the fences this week. Sydney’s taking care of the foals, and Jen and Clay will be at the auction tomorrow.”

  Everyone at the table turned to look at Derek expectantly. He saw the blush staining Angela’s cheeks. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, feeling his pulse throbbing against his temple. He was unsure if it was anger or frustration, but he couldn’t deny the burst of desire that settled below his belt buckle. He made no attempt to hide his displeasure.

  “So I get to babysit?”

  “I really do have plenty of research to keep me busy until we leave,” she insisted.

  “Derek,” Silvie scolded, frowning at him as she slapped his shoulder. “Don’t be rude. You can at least show her how to ride tomorrow and take her around the ranch.”

  He clenched his jaw and glared at his plate. Of course he could, but it irritated him that they’d all assumed he had nothing better to do than to show this city girl how useless he was in the business. He didn’t want to have her here at all, let alone be stuck playing tour guide for her. When he looked up Angela met his gaze, and he could see the audacious glint in her eyes.

  Her eyes flashed and a slow smile spread across her face. “We could get your interview out of the way. I’m sure it won’t take long.”

  To anyone else it might appear she was flirting, but he knew better. He wasn’t about to let her attempt to mock him slide without a retort.

  “I guess that all depends on how long you think you can stay in the saddle.” He winked at her, giving her a confident grin, and slid his chair back from the table. “Thanks for dinner, Silvie. I’ve got a few things to get done.”

  Chapter Six

  * * *

  THE REST OF dinner passed with a blur of conversation. Angela couldn’t keep up with the discussions about which cattle were sick, where they wanted to move them, and which horses needed extra work. Most of the terminology they used went over her head, and she made mental notes to go online and look several of them up. If she was staying here, she’d need to keep from making a complete fool of herself. Apparently that also meant figuring out how to ride before tomorrow morning.

  The prospect of spending the day with Derek Chandler could prove to be a double-edged sword. The man was a tempting enigma. He was definitely antagonizing and didn’t fail to make it clear at every opportunity that he didn’t want her anywhere near the ranch, but at the same time there was something about him that consumed her thoughts. She longed to discover the burden that hovered in the depth of his eyes. He had secrets he wasn’t revealing, and she wondered if she recognized the fact because she carried a few of her own well-hidden secrets.

  Who are you kidding? It wasn’t his secrets that made her want to rip his shirt from his body and let her fingers trace every creviced muscle she’d seen though the thin material of his t-shirts. Then there was the mischievous, playful side she’d caught a glimpse of in the barn. Secrets or not, Derek Chandler was sexy as hell. She glanced toward the door he’d exited and wondered where he might be now.

  After dinner Jen and Clay excused themselves, saying that their baby had been coughing. Mike headed to his office with Scott to finish some paperwork, leaving Angela, Silvie, and Sydney in the kitchen. Sydney grabbed a washcloth and wiped off the baby’s face, scooping her out of the high chair and holding her out to Angela.

  “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 t
he 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.

  “HEY, COWBOY.”

  She strode into the barn like she owned the place and it i
nfuriated 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.