Page 20 of Cowboy Mountain Man

“Blankets. Soup. Emotional support cowboy.”

His mouth twitches. “That last one costs extra.”

“I knew it.”

A branch strikes the roof. I jerk so hard I spill tea over my fingers. Harlan takes the mug before it falls.

“Branch,” he says.

“I know.”

He sets it on the table.

I press my hands together. I hate this. The jumping. The cold little rush that keeps moving through my stomach. The way every sound has become something I need to explain.

“I’m usually better than this.”

“Better than what?”

“Being scared.”

His expression changes. “You left when something felt wrong. You checked whether the truck was following you. You called for help.”

“I also went back.”

“With me.”

I look down at my hands. “I keep seeing that window.”

“I know.”

“I thought I was alone in there.”

He lets me sit with that. Then he lifts his arm. An invitation. I hesitate for approximately half a second before moving beneath it. His arm settles around my shoulders, and I lean against his chest. He’s warm. So warm that my eyes close.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Yes.”

I rest my hand against his shirt. His heartbeat is steady beneath my palm. Mine is making an embarrassing effort to catch up.

For a while, neither of us moves. The wind shakes the trees outside. Rain ticks against the glass. Inside, his thumb brushes my shoulder once. Then again.

I lift my head. He’s already looking at me.

Up close, his eyes are lighter than I thought. Gray with a little green near the center.

My gaze drops to his mouth.

His arm tightens slightly. “Hope.”

There’s a warning in it. I’m not sure which of us he’s warning.

“What?”

His eyes move over my face. “You’ve had a rough day.”

“Yes.”