Read Online Heart of Grace (Return to Grace Trilogy #1) by Abigail Easton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Abigail Easton
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rent.” She lifted a shoulder,
considering.
“Isn’t that what I’m offering?” he asked. “But I won’t take
money from you. You never have to see me when you’re there,
if you don’t want to. The house has its own kitchen, although
you are always welcome to eat here. Only one bedroom, but
it’s fully furnished.”
“You want to keep an eye on me.”
“I want to know you are taken care of.”
Angie walked toward him, her steps tentative. Living close
together could be dangerous for them both. He shouldn’t have
invited this complication, but there it was, thick between them
like a tangible thing he could grab.
“You want to know I’m taken care of, yet you don’t want
to do any of the dirty work, is that it?” she asked, her voice
slipping into a teasing drawl. “You’ll give me a roof, but you
won’t kill bugs for me?”
He knew he’d lost the fight, even if Angie did concede to
his request. “I think you’re going to be very difficult to work
with.”
“Nothing worthwhile is ever easy,” she replied easily,
scooping up her purse. “I’ll be staying in your guest house and
I thank you. I’m going into town, but I’ll be back this evening
to settle in. And no worries, I can kill my own bugs. I’m good
at getting rid of things that annoy me.”
Her pointed look as she walked to the door drew out
another laugh from him. She turned back just before shutting
the door behind her and said, “thank you, Cole.”
****
Angela awoke the next morning and rolled onto her
stomach, burying her face into the pillow. She inhaled the scent
of fresh linen and lemon and wondered when her alarm was
going to go off, or if she’d missed it entirely.
Her eyes shot open and she flopped onto her back. She
hadn’t set the alarm.
Montana. She was still in Montana.
Waves of nausea rippled in her gut. Sunlight streamed
through sheer curtains, casting shadows across the wood slats
of the guesthouse ceiling. Angela exhaled sharply and stood
from bed. She wandered to the window and slid the curtains
aside.
Dew sparkled across the grass. As a child she had fancied
the dew as a million diamonds tossed across the field. Perhaps
God had left those jewels just for her and she had only to
scoop up the treasure before they melted away. But it always
turned out to be just water, easily evaporated into the heat. She
had asked God to save her, but he seemed more interested in
taunting her.
She hadn’t seen dew in a very long time, nor that vastness
of green that stretched until it faded into the haze of the
horizon. The landscape hadn’t changed, but the little girl who
once lived here had. Her father hadn’t killed her, in spite of the
many times she had hoped he would. A woman had emerged
from the pain. And with a woman’s wisdom she turned from
the window and shut away the wistful thoughts, going about
the task of unpacking her suitcase and preparing for the day.
Grateful she had thought to pack her workout clothes and
yoga mat, Angela unrolled the mat and flicked it onto the living
room floor. A little bit of yoga, followed by a warm cup of
coffee, might just set her equilibrium right.
She stretched and bent, recalling the moves her instructor
usually guided her through. She had built up a fairly good sweat
when a knock at the door jolted her out of a balancing pose.
She stumbled, grabbed her bottle of water from the coffee
table, and answered the door.
Cole stood on her doorstep in full cowboy gear: hat, boots,
the whole bit. She remembered him as a ten-year-old boy
dressed nearly the same, but with a bright red gun holster and
a hat with a string cinched beneath his chin.
He had pulled her hair while wearing that silly hat, and once
he had tied her to a tree during a game of “Cowboys and
Indians.” He’d left her there until after supper.
Cole grinned and handed her a steaming cup of coffee,
taking a sip from his own.
Angela took the mug, thanked him, and shut the door
slightly, angling her body behind
considering.
“Isn’t that what I’m offering?” he asked. “But I won’t take
money from you. You never have to see me when you’re there,
if you don’t want to. The house has its own kitchen, although
you are always welcome to eat here. Only one bedroom, but
it’s fully furnished.”
“You want to keep an eye on me.”
“I want to know you are taken care of.”
Angie walked toward him, her steps tentative. Living close
together could be dangerous for them both. He shouldn’t have
invited this complication, but there it was, thick between them
like a tangible thing he could grab.
“You want to know I’m taken care of, yet you don’t want
to do any of the dirty work, is that it?” she asked, her voice
slipping into a teasing drawl. “You’ll give me a roof, but you
won’t kill bugs for me?”
He knew he’d lost the fight, even if Angie did concede to
his request. “I think you’re going to be very difficult to work
with.”
“Nothing worthwhile is ever easy,” she replied easily,
scooping up her purse. “I’ll be staying in your guest house and
I thank you. I’m going into town, but I’ll be back this evening
to settle in. And no worries, I can kill my own bugs. I’m good
at getting rid of things that annoy me.”
Her pointed look as she walked to the door drew out
another laugh from him. She turned back just before shutting
the door behind her and said, “thank you, Cole.”
****
Angela awoke the next morning and rolled onto her
stomach, burying her face into the pillow. She inhaled the scent
of fresh linen and lemon and wondered when her alarm was
going to go off, or if she’d missed it entirely.
Her eyes shot open and she flopped onto her back. She
hadn’t set the alarm.
Montana. She was still in Montana.
Waves of nausea rippled in her gut. Sunlight streamed
through sheer curtains, casting shadows across the wood slats
of the guesthouse ceiling. Angela exhaled sharply and stood
from bed. She wandered to the window and slid the curtains
aside.
Dew sparkled across the grass. As a child she had fancied
the dew as a million diamonds tossed across the field. Perhaps
God had left those jewels just for her and she had only to
scoop up the treasure before they melted away. But it always
turned out to be just water, easily evaporated into the heat. She
had asked God to save her, but he seemed more interested in
taunting her.
She hadn’t seen dew in a very long time, nor that vastness
of green that stretched until it faded into the haze of the
horizon. The landscape hadn’t changed, but the little girl who
once lived here had. Her father hadn’t killed her, in spite of the
many times she had hoped he would. A woman had emerged
from the pain. And with a woman’s wisdom she turned from
the window and shut away the wistful thoughts, going about
the task of unpacking her suitcase and preparing for the day.
Grateful she had thought to pack her workout clothes and
yoga mat, Angela unrolled the mat and flicked it onto the living
room floor. A little bit of yoga, followed by a warm cup of
coffee, might just set her equilibrium right.
She stretched and bent, recalling the moves her instructor
usually guided her through. She had built up a fairly good sweat
when a knock at the door jolted her out of a balancing pose.
She stumbled, grabbed her bottle of water from the coffee
table, and answered the door.
Cole stood on her doorstep in full cowboy gear: hat, boots,
the whole bit. She remembered him as a ten-year-old boy
dressed nearly the same, but with a bright red gun holster and
a hat with a string cinched beneath his chin.
He had pulled her hair while wearing that silly hat, and once
he had tied her to a tree during a game of “Cowboys and
Indians.” He’d left her there until after supper.
Cole grinned and handed her a steaming cup of coffee,
taking a sip from his own.
Angela took the mug, thanked him, and shut the door
slightly, angling her body behind
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