The Cowboy and the Angel by T. J. Kline Page B

reached up and touched the ring hanging at the base of her throat. He traced the line of the chain with his fingertip and watched her pulse jump, her chest heaving in an effort to breathe naturally. His finger traced her collarbone and she dropped the ring as if it were on fire. “It’s nothing.”
    She was lying. He had no doubt that the necklace had a tremendous amount of meaning for her and wondered why she wouldn’t share it, especially considering she had just been grilling him about his family. What was she hiding?
    “So you’re not an open book.”
    She backed away from him, just out of reach, retreating behind nonchalant coolness. “Trust me, cowboy, this isn’t a book you’d want to read.”
    He watched as she turned on her heel and walked out of the barn, back toward the house. Derek wondered if kissing her had been one of the biggest mistakes of his life, but if that were the case, why was he imagining what would happen if he followed her into the house and lost himself in those emerald eyes again?

 
    Chapter Seven
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    A NGELA HEARD THE early morning commotion downstairs and rolled over to see the sun glaring through the open window. Dishes clattered, a baby cried, and laughter floated up the stairs to her bedroom as she pulled the sheet over her head. Sounds of early morning breakfast with siblings—a close-knit family—all sounds she’d longed to hear for the past fifteen years, so unlike the silent mornings from her childhood with no one to help her get ready for school and no one to greet her when she arrived home. She pulled the sheet from her head and wondered if the family downstairs realized how lucky they were to have one another and how many people would give everything to have what they had.
    She swung her legs over the side of the bed just as a knock sounded at the door. “Angie, are you up?” Silvie’s voice was sweet but insistent. Angela caught her breath—no one but her father called her Angie. She felt a rush of emotion crash over her, realizing she needed to call him and see how he was doing.
    She reached for a sweatshirt at the foot of her bed and pulled it over her head. Burying the tears that threatened to spill over, she hurried to open the door a crack. “I’m up. I’ll be down in just a couple of minutes.”
    “Derek is already waiting for you at the barn when you’re finished eating.”
    “Already?”
    Silvie smiled at her sympathetically. “Our day starts early around here. We’re usually up and out the door before seven.”
    Seven? She was used to doing the evening report with a follow-up late at night. Most of the time she didn’t even get to bed until two or three in the morning. She was never up early. In the interest of getting her story, it appeared she was going to need to adjust to the early morning hours they kept here at the ranch.
    “I’ll be right down,” she assured the older woman.
    She closed the door and heard Silvie’s footsteps making their way back downstairs. She hurried to the dresser, deciding to forgo the shower until after her time with the horses, and pulled out old jeans and a t-shirt she’d unpacked. She could feel the morning sun already heating up the air, and she shoved the t-shirt back into the drawer in favor of a tank top. She glanced at her image in the mirror and wrinkled her lip before rubbing her eyes.
    “You look like you haven’t slept in a week,” she said to her reflection.
    In truth, she had tossed and turned most of the night, sleep eluding her. As much as she wanted to blame her sleeplessness on the conversation with Derek stirring up memories of her mother, she knew it was because of his kiss. She couldn’t put it out of her mind, nor could she forget the way her body had responded to him.
    She’d kissed plenty of boys in high school and men in college, even afterward, but none of them had left her shaking with need, hungry for more. The simple touch of Derek’s hand on hers had sent icy shivers of longing