The Cowboy and the Angel (4 page)

“Shut up, Jennifer,” he muttered. “Is either of you even considering that she could spin anything we do to make it look really bad for us? She could cause a lot of trouble.” He glanced toward the arena, where the announcer was cracking jokes with one of the rodeo clowns, indicating the end of the break from events. The bull riding was next, and he needed to be in the arena with Clay. “You know Scott will agree with me. But you’re not calling him to ask his opinion, are you?”

“Who still runs this company?” Mike asked, tapping his chin, pretending to contemplate the answer. “Oh, right! It’s me. Now, get your butt back into the arena. We have one event left and we’re heading out in the morning—
with
that reporter,” he added.

Derek knew any discussion regarding a certain pain-in-the-ass reporter was finished. Mike was calling the shots and, as usual, Derek’s opinion was overruled. It frustrated him that even when he tried to step up, his family treated him like an irresponsible child. He clenched his jaw so tightly he felt his pulse throbbing in his temple. He jumped into the stirrup and swung his leg over the saddle.

“This is a mistake, Mike.”

“Y
OU REALIZE THIS
is a crazy idea, right?” Joe, Angela’s station manager and ex-boyfriend, shook his head as she paced. “Why in the world do you feel the need to go traipsing to a cattle ranch to get a story? I think it’s a bad idea.”

“Viewers love stories like this, you know that.”

“We’ll find you something else. I promise I’ll put you on a bigger story. Maybe something with that realtor that was embezzling from clients.”

“That’s local, Joe. A big exposé is going to get the attention of bigger stations. And a story that encompasses a national pastime . . . The only thing better would be if it were about football or baseball. People see cowboys as larger than life. If they aren’t the heroes, well,
that
is a story that gets attention.”

“So this is about leaving the station again?”

“Joe, you know I need this. I have to get Dad out of this place.” She waved her hand around the sparsely furnished, two-bedroom apartment she shared with her father.

He frowned at her. “There is nothing wrong with this place. This is home. You’ve grown up here.”

“As long as he’s here, guilt will keep eating at him. He drinks to forget. I have to get him away from everyone who’s enabling him. Do you realize the bartender at O’Reilly’s has a cot for him in the back room?”

He pulled her arm and urged her to sit beside him on the worn-out couch. “Your mama is buried here. This is where we should be, together.” He curled his fingers around her hand.

Angela bit her lower lip. She cared about Joe; she had since they were children. He was one of the only men she’d ever considered trusting even a little. Joe was the only person who knew the truth about her father and his drinking problem, but she couldn’t see him as anything other than a friend and her boss. She’d tried to force herself to feel more for him, and at his pleading she’d agreed to date him. But she broke it off after only a few months. It had felt too much like dating her brother.

She knew he thought he was in love with her, but she just couldn’t return the emotion. There was no spark there no matter how much she wished she could pretend there was. She couldn’t lie to him, and she cared about him far too much to ask him to settle for a loveless relationship. Maybe her parents’ dysfunctional relationship had jaded her on love. Maybe the death of her mother at such a young age had hardened her heart and she would never find love. Whatever the reason, it was just another to add to the long list convincing her to move on from this place.

Angela slipped her hand from his grasp. “I have to get him away from here. You know that. As long as we’re here, he’s going to continue drinking.”

“You don’t know that leaving will help him. What if it doesn’t or if it makes things worse?” He sighed and clenched his jaw, his pulse ticking in his temple. She could see the war in his heart between wanting to see her happy and wanting her for himself. “How will I manage if you leave?”

She smiled sadly, cupping her hand against his smooth cheek. “We can only be friends, Joe. We tried to be more, remember?” She could only hope that Joe would find someone who would appreciate the love he had to offer. It simply wasn’t her.

He nodded, his dark hair falling into his defeated blue eyes as he hung his head. She wanted to brush the lock of hair back but knew he’d misconstrue the gesture. “I’ll try to get you a small crew, but I can’t send more than one or two guys. You’ll have to do all your own research. But bring back a good story.” He stood up, looking down at her still on the couch. “You know I love you.”

His voice was so forlorn, it squeezed at her heart. It killed her to hear the ache in his voice. She wished she could love him in return. “I love you, too, but it’s not like that. I think we both need this to work out so that Dad and I can move out, and you can move on.”

“I’ll never move on,” he whispered as he looked back at her from the front door. Joe shook his head and closed the door.

I
T WAS WELL
past midnight when her cell phone chimed from the battered nightstand. Angela reached for it, knocking over a bottle of perfume and a picture of her mother in the process. Her finger closed on the pebbled case but she couldn’t find the button to connect the call before it stopped ringing.

“Damn,” she muttered as she scooted into a seated position against the pillows. She glanced down at the screen, extra bright in the darkened room. “Damn,” she repeated, recognizing the number on the screen. No law-abiding citizen should have the police department on speed dial.

Angela pushed her mussed hair back over her shoulder and listened to the message. She rubbed her eyes, trying to wake herself before she called back. She waited as it rang several times before an officer picked up the phone.

“Fort Mills Police Department, is this an emergency?” Angela repeated the extension left in the message.

She instantly recognized the deep, masculine voice of the officer who had called her numerous times over the past ten years. “Officer Miller,” he answered.

“This is Angela McCallister. You called me a few moments ago?”

“Yes, Angela. We have your father in custody again.”

Angela bit down on her bottom lip, trying to calm the anger bubbling in her chest, and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “What did he do this time?”

“Same as always, drunk and disorderly.” The officer sighed into the receiver. “Angela, you have to get him some help.”

Get
him
some help
?
What about me?

“I’ll be there in a few minutes, Officer Miller.”

“We’ll have him in holding, like usual.”

Angela arrived at the police station in time to hear her father’s voice singing at the top of his lungs from one of the holding cells. She couldn’t make out his words but she’d recognize his Irish baritone voice anywhere.

“I’m here to pay the fine for my father, Robert McCallister.”

“Sign right here.” The officer on duty pointed at a line on the form in front of her. “And here.” He tapped a finger on the next page. “Last time.”

“How much?” She cringed as her father’s voice echoed past the closed door again. She slipped her checkbook onto the counter and prayed her dwindling savings would magically have enough to cover the fine for the second time this month.

“One thousand dollars, ma’am.”

Her breath hitched in her throat and the officer looked up from the paperwork. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she answered quickly. “Just a little hiccup.” Angela flashed the officer a dazzling smile, praying she could convince Joe to give her yet another advance. She wrote out the check, hoping Joe would come through again, her fingers gripping the pen hard enough that she worried it might break.

As much as she loved her father, there were times she wished she could run away, abandon him to his drinking, and find a life without the responsibility of looking after him hanging over her head. She wanted to turn her back on him and the choices he made, but she knew it just as often was an illness he couldn’t control. She couldn’t explain it.

He was her father, the only family she had left since her mother died when she was eight, but he was a drunk and had been as long as she could remember. He was the reason her mother had left that night, the reason her mother ran out of the apartment into the rain, the reason she didn’t see the car speeding down the wet street. He was also the reason that Angela hadn’t been allowed to go to the hospital and say goodbye to her mother before she slipped away. All because he couldn’t loosen his grip on a bottle.

Angela shook her head, clearing the bitter memories. Nothing would bring her mother back, but she refused to end up like her. She was going to find a way to give them both a second chance for a better life. She’d spent her entire youth dragging her father home from local bars because he passed out. Too many bartenders knew her by name and kept her phone number by their registers. Tonight would be the last time she bailed him out. She couldn’t waste any more time letting her father’s addiction drag them both down. They had to get away from this place, its memories and pain, and this rodeo story was the first glimmer of hope for escape. She had to grasp it with both hands and make it work.

“Oh look! That’s my Angie-girl.” She heard him slur the words as Officer Miller escorted him through the doors.

“Yes, Bobby, I know.”

He gave Angela a sad smile as her father fell forward, hugging her. He might be a poor excuse for a father, but he loved her as much as he was able to in his agonized heart. “You look just like your mother,” her father whispered loudly.

She could see the sadness in her father’s eyes at the mention of her mother, but she was finding it difficult to dredge up sympathy for him when she thought about how she’d just spent their rent. The embers of anger flamed to life.

“Let’s go, Dad.” She just wanted to get him home and into bed so she could pack and leave first thing in the morning before she had to nurse his hangover.

D
EREK AND
M
IKE
had just finished loading the last two horses into the stock trailer when the blue sedan stopped at the back gate of the arena. Jen shot her brother a playful grin as the redhead emerged from the driver’s seat to open the gate for herself.

“Your girlfriend’s finally here.”

“Shut up, Jen,” Derek muttered, glaring at his sister as he slammed the back of the trailer shut and latched it.

Jen arched a brow and caught Mike’s eye before making her way back to the truck she was riding in with her husband.

“You might as well go let her know we’re about ready to leave.” Mike tossed the lead ropes into the tack compartment. “We’ll be pulling out in about thirty minutes.”

“Are you kidding me, Mike?” Derek sighed and shook his head, jamming his hands into his pockets. “This stupid idea was yours, so I don’t see why I’m the one dealing with her.”

The old man slapped his shoulder. “Think of it as a good chance to set things on the right foot again. Go apologize for yesterday.” He chuckled. “Use some of that Chandler charm you boys are famous for.”

Derek rolled his eyes. He was beginning to wish he’d never set eyes on this sexy, smart-mouthed, city girl. “You owe me, Mike.”

“Don’t worry, Derek,” Mike called after him. “You can thank me later.”

Derek made his way toward her, dragging his feet with every step. Mike’s entire plan was ridiculous and doomed to backfire. Derek was sure of it. He glanced at her through hooded eyes, a baseball cap shading his face from her view.

At least she was nice to look at. She looked different with her hair pulled loosely back at the base of her neck. She’d dressed casually today in blue jeans and a plain green t-shirt that matched the deep emerald color of her eyes. She appeared relaxed and comfortable. He wondered if it was because she didn’t feel the need to play the part of the hard-hitting journalist. As he got closer he could see she’d worn only minimal eye makeup and marveled how it actually made her look prettier. She looked innocent and young with her cheeks pink from the sun yesterday, the sunburn fading to a slight tan, her green eyes glinting brightly with excitement. Without the pretentious glare she sported yesterday, she seemed almost approachable. Desire circled and settled deep in his belly. The simple fact that he wanted to approach her irritated him.

“Morning,” he muttered as he walked up to her.

“I’m so sorry I’m running late.” She was flustered and brushed a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. “I had a bit of a hang-up at home and got out later than I’d planned.”

He unlatched the chain that locked the gate with a loud clang on the metal and held it open for her. “Go ahead and park by my truck over there.” He pointed at the black pickup in front of the stock trailer. “We’ll be leaving soon.”

“Is there anything I can help with?” she asked, climbing back into her car.

His brow arched in surprise. “We can check with Jen and see if she might have something for you to do.”

She drove the sedan slowly to his truck. Was this the same pretentious woman he’d met yesterday? He was curious about the overnight change in her. The woman who’d tried to interview Mike yesterday wanted to shut them down, but this morning she seemed considerate, jovial even. It would be easy to fall for her performance, especially when she looked as sweet and innocent as she was acting, but he knew better than to trust her. Trust was a luxury he didn’t have to offer anymore. He wasn’t going to fail his family again.

A
NGELA FELT ELATED.
She was trying to hide her excitement, mainly because no one would understand the huge weight that seemed to drop from her shoulders with every mile she drove away from her apartment. She’d packed up her meager belongings and left her father with a glass of water, some aspirin, and a note promising to collect him after her assignment finished; her father was still sleeping off his hangover. The refrigerator and cupboards were full, but every trace of alcohol was cleaned out of the house. Joe had promised to check on him twice a week for the next few weeks. There was nothing left for her to do but get in her car and drive toward their future, their freedom. She knew that eventually she would need to call and check on her father, but she was never returning to that apartment. It was now a part of her past, and she was heading to their future. This was the first step on her way to a better life for them both. This breath of freedom would become the first of many.