A Cowboy At Heart. Angel Smits

away now. “I’m sure our paths will cross.” The sound of footsteps against the wood floor receded, and Lisa heard the door open and then close.

      Neither of them moved.

      Slowly, Lisa opened her eyes and looked up. Trey’s denim jeans were still right there. She glanced up, noting his big belt buckle—maybe he was from Texas?—then moving her gaze even farther up to the muscular curve of his chest, to his chiseled jaw...and blue eyes staring down at her.

      “Is he gone?” she whispered.

      “Yeah.” Trey stepped back as if just realizing how close they were. “You can get up.” He extended a hand to help her stand.

      She stared at it, hesitating. Then, swallowing hard, she put her hand in his. It was rough and warm and solid and big. Her mouth dry, she couldn’t speak for a minute. “Th...thank you.”

      “Oh, no. It’s not that simple.” Trey leaned back against the ledge behind him, crossing his arms over that impressive chest. She’d taken stock of everything else, so why not appreciate the bulge of his biceps along the way?

      Shaking her head, Lisa turned and reached back to untie her apron. Of course, the strings had become a knot.

      “I want to hear what that was all about.” Trey stepped closer, and, after gently pushing her fingers away, worked at the knot himself. She closed her eyes again, trying to tamp down her awareness of him. What was wrong with her? He was her boss!

      Finally, the knot loose, he flicked the apron off and pulled the right side. The fabric whispered over her before falling away.

      She had to face him. Taking a deep breath, she got control of herself. “There’s nothing to tell. I was just surprised to see him, is all.”

      Trey was back to leaning against the bar, her apron bunched up in one hand.

      Feeling a bit foolish for her impulsive actions, she reached under the bar and grabbed her purse and coat. “I gotta go. See you—uh—tomorrow?”

      Before he could say anything, she ran out through the kitchen, the screen door smacking loud in the night, the snow emphasizing the echo.

      She glanced back over her shoulder and was surprised to see Trey standing in the doorway. The light from the kitchen outlined his body, casting him in shadow so she couldn’t read his expression. She wanted to turn around, see what he might say and do if she faced him, if she let her feelings show.

      Instead, she focused on making her way across the alley and up to her room. Earlier today she’d planned to head over to her grandfather’s place and stay there. Sam didn’t think anyone was coming back, but it was too late to check out of the hotel now. “Just one more night. Then I’ll leave.”

      Flashing her key card at the door, she hurried inside and up to her room. By the time she made it over to the window and parted the curtains, Trey was gone. Had he really been there? Had she imagined him?

      Why did she feel disappointed that he hadn’t followed?