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“Yeah, I actually want to try his tripe.”
His nose wrinkled. “Oh no, don’t do it. That was the worse experience of my life.”
She crossed her ankles over each other, looking kind of shy as she tugged at her shirt. She always did that, like she was uncomfortable in her own skin. Angel shouldn’t be—she was like a fairy queen in human form.
Every part of him grew more protective at the vulnerable move, and his hands joined hers on her shirt to stop the tugging. “Looks like you can’t wait to get that off.” Oops, that came out wrong. He winced. “I mean…”
“All my clothes are the wrong size,” she hurriedly covered up his faux pas. She was a sweetheart like that, filling in his gaffs when he clearly needed her help. “I mean, you know how fast I came down here. I didn’t even pack, so I’m borrowing Emily’s clothes.” She chuckled. It sounded too nervous in his ears. “Have you seen Emily? Have you seen me?”
There was no comparison—it was like comparing a tropical bird to a sleek cheetah, but yeah, he got the point. The two definitely shouldn’t be borrowing each other’s clothes. He pondered what to do about her problem, but something else about what she’d just said was bothering him. Why hadn’t she packed? She’d just run here?
Porter was caught between his need to tell her the truth so he could start interrogating her for answers and keeping quiet so that she’d trust him enough to confide in him. He should’ve gotten his confession over with when he’d gotten her alone at Funches’s, while she was relaxed and talkative, when her eyes had turned soft on him like gooey molasses.
And what had he done instead?
His heart had taken over when they were outside of Funches’s cabin, beating so hard that he could barely breathe; his hands wouldn’t stop touching her; his lips thought they should do more than apologizing—no, they wanted to explore every inch of that silky smooth skin next to her ear.
He didn’t even get in that kiss. He’d bungled that too!
He groaned inwardly and worked on getting her back to that frame of mind again. “Well, you look beautiful in everything you wear, but I’m sure we can find some oversized overalls that can drown you like that shirt did.”
“Oh my, thanks,” she joked, but then she ruined that with a long sigh. Her eyes were misting over.
He jumped to attention as her hand inched to the door. “Hey!” That came out a croak. Porter cleared his throat manfully and tried again. “I know you wanted some answers, and I do need to talk to you about…”
Angel cut him off with a raised hand. “Let’s get some sleep first,” she said with a tired smile. “In fact…” she shook her head. “Just don’t worry about telling me if you think that it’s going to make us fight or something. It’s okay. I had a really good night. Let’s just end it at that.”
He hesitated, feeling his frustration make him clench his teeth, but she was right. He should’ve taken advantage of that good mood earlier to get everything out in the open. Porter couldn’t confide in this silent, tragic figure standing before him. He nodded in misery.
“Thanks,” she whispered. She leaned back against that hateful door.
He fought the urge to take her in his arms again, but for different reasons—she needed him, and he couldn’t mix up his own desires with what was best for her right now. He pressed his palm against the door to keep it from swallowing her too fast. “I’ll get that spare out of your trunk if it kills me.” He tried his best to get her to smile again. “I’d rather die than let Funches show me up with his ‘guns.’”
“You’ve done so much for me,” she said softly. “I–I don’t deserve it.”
He couldn’t shake it. The strange premonition kept building, so that he didn’t want to let her go. Almost as if he had no control over his own impulses, he traced her lips with the edge of his finger. “You have a heart of gold; you’d help out any of us if you could.”
“Would I?” She took a shuddering breath, looking away. Her lashes fluttered quickly. “I’m sorry that WhiteBoulder is buying that land right from under you.”
“I couldn’t afford it anyway. There will be other opportunities.”
Her eyes turned more stricken, but she nodded. A tear slipped down her cheek.
Porter straightened at the sight of it. “Hey, are you going to be okay here?” Why was she staying at Emily’s anyway? She belonged on the ranch with him. His chest squeezed uncomfortably at the turn of his thoughts. That was ridiculous. She’d be fine, and yet, he couldn’t wedge a dam through the current of his worries. “I don’t want to leave you alone,” he admitted.
She lowered her head. Her lips tilted in pleasure and her eyes glistened with pain. “That’s sweet. You’ve done too much.” Guilt wormed its way through him—she had it right. He reallyhadoverdone it this time. “I’ll see you at the church barbecue,” Angel said. She drew forward, and still not looking directly at him, she brushed a kiss against his cheek.
He caught her wrist, unable to say goodbye. “Angel?”
She met his eyes then and he reeled her closer. He didn’t care anymore, about anything, only that he couldn’t leave her unkissed. There were unsurmountable mountains left to climb, rough waters to defeat, and his aching heart to put in line… later.
Angel’s lips parted and he went for those first, tasting that sweetness. It was all that he’d expected and more. She was just as eager to get to know him. He felt that in her wholesome kisses that she returned to him with just as much intensity.
He’d waited a little too long for this.
The anticipation building up between them finally had an outlet. His hands slid up her wrists to her curly hair. He played with each springy curl while he ran kisses over the smoothness of her face, doing his best not to burn her flawless cheek with the full day’s growth of scruff against his jaw.
Poor girl, though she seemed completely heedless of his rough face. Her fingertips gently ran down his neck where she clasped his shirt for balance. The move had the opposite effect, because it turned his stomach into mush.
