“I figured that much. Now if you’d just make me a happy man and tell me what your name really is, I’d be—”
The lady from the coffee shop came running across the parking lot. “Are you okay, ma’am? Do I need to call an ambulance?” She held a white paper bag and large disposable cup in her hands. “Here you go, to replace the items that got dropped.”
Gwen had been in such shock that she’d forgotten she’d even had them in her hands. They now lay on the ground, flattened, after he’d run over them when he’d moved the truck.
He said, “I’m sorry, Cassie. I’ll clean that mess up once I’m sure she’s okay. She was pretty shook up.”
Oh, shook up my ass. I’ve handled much worse than this just walking into the family horse barn.
The lady, Cassie, waved her hand dismissively as she placed the cup in Gwen’s hand. “Don’t worry about that, Chris. I’m just glad you’re okay, ma’am. I made you another coffee just like the other, and there’s another taco in the bag for you. Want to come inside and get warm?”
Gwen shook her head, not even really aware of the cold as she sat there on the icy, muddy fender. She just needed to get in her truck and be alone for a few minutes to take stock of what to do next.
Looking back at a vehicle that had just pulled up to the drive-thru window, Cassie turned back to them and patted Gwen’s shoulder. “I need to get back inside. If you change your mind, you’re welcome to come back inside and get warm.” Gwen nodded as Cassie hurried back to the door, wrapping her arms around herself against the cold and damp.
“Are you from Divine? You want me to call someone for you?” the cowboy asked, taking her free hand. “I’m really sorry about hurting and scaring you.”
She wanted to ignore his conciliatory tone that she wished didn’t make her heart tremble and do funny things in her chest. The way he stared made her feel vulnerable, exposed in a way that she couldn’t afford right now. She needed to get alone again. Soon. He kept her off-balance, alternating between teasing her and being apologetic.
She made to pull back from him, but he looked down at her hand, took the cup from the other one, and peered closely at both of them with a concerned frown. “These need bandages. They’re bleeding.”
Looking down, she realized he was right. Clenching them so hard had made the dry, fragile, and damaged skin between her knuckles crack and bleed. “I’m fine. I’ve just used them in the cold lately more than I’m used to.”
He scoffed. “Haven’t you ever heard of work gloves?”
She wanted to bare her teeth and yell at him that she wasn’t an idiot but her emotions were welling dangerously close to the surface and she wasn’t about to lose it in front of this jerk.
“I had a pair of gloves but I lost them.”
His fingers stroking over the tops of her hands soothed her to the point where her heart no longer galloped with outrage. No, that sentiment was replaced with something deeper and more primitive. She needed to get away. She couldn’t afford to feel anything right now.
“Somewhere between my truck and my bunk, I’ve managed to misplace my phone. Would it be possible for you to call a friend for me?”
The man, Chris, as she recalled the woman from the coffee shop calling him, nodded. “I’d be happy to. What’s the number, Elmer?”
Gwen let out an exasperated sound and had the juvenile urge to kick him. But when he glanced at her and winked as she rattled off the number, she found she wasn’t nearly as irked as she let on. He wasn’t GQ handsome by any means, but when he smiled like that with his eyes, she found that she couldn’t be upset with him for the earlier incident.
He was still squatting there in front of her, purposely shielding her from the wind with his big, solid frame, she realized. She heard a woman’s voice answer the call and he sat a little more upright with the phone to his ear. He seemed surprised. “Teresa? Is that you? Yeah, it’s Chris Potter. Listen I’m up at Divine Drip and a friend of yours”—he covered the receiver with his hand—“what’s your name, darlin’?”
Again with the endearments. Where’s this guy from? “Gwen Henderson.”
The cowboy’s jaw dropped the moment she said her name and she heard Teresa squawk and jabber unintelligibly over the phone. She sounded a tad pissed.
The cowboy reached out and carefully pushed the fuzzy, flapped hat off of her head. In a dazed voice, he said, “It’s you.” He handed her the phone, which was warm from his hand when she placed it to her ear. He stared at her like a calf looking at a new gate.