A Cowboy to Call Daddy (The Boones of Texas 4)

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his gut tightening.

Teddy shrugged. “Can’t say for sure, but she’s pretty upset. She went to the refuge, fired up to finish that paperwork.”

Finish that paperwork. A coldness seeped across his skin. She couldn’t leave. He might have been an ass last night, panicking about what he could offer her and the girls. He needed to sort through that, talk to her. But she couldn’t leave. “She’s at the refuge?” Archer asked, eyeing the clouds overhead.

“Told Clara she’d be late and headed out,” his father said, peering under the hood. “Giving you trouble?”

Archer nodded. If Eden was upset, then there was a reason. “Dad—”

“Take the truck. I’ll ride River back.” He offered the keys without looking his way. “Might see if I can get this started before the storm hits, though.”

“Thanks. Don’t wait too long.” Archer headed to the truck, smiling at the sight of his father fiddling under the hood. He put the truck in Reverse, cut across the field and headed toward the refuge.

The closer he got, the more clear things became. It wasn’t about needing her help with funding anymore. If he had to dust off his suit and start schmoozing other foundations, he would. He’d figure things out; he always did. Losing Monroe was a shame, but nothing life-altering. But Eden. Well, now that he’d found her, he couldn’t comprehend losing her.

By the time he was parking, the rain had started. A quick look told him Deacon and the men had things under control, so he headed inside and shook the rain from his hat before hanging it on the hat rack on the wall.

The lights flickered, followed by the sound of Eden’s muttered, “Shit,” at the end of the hall.

He smiled, heading that way.

She was feeding things into the scanner, tidy stacks of clipped receipts and invoices arranged on her table. But the power surge must have shorted the scanner because she was tapping it with barely suppressed anger. “Work,” she snapped. “Come on.”

Her hair fell around her shoulders; her white T-shirt and fitted black pants reminded him of just how heavenly her body felt. Soft and warm and sweet. She’d be one hell of a distraction if Toben saw her now. She turned the machine on and off, then bent to check the plug. Archer adjusted his pants, his jeans increasingly uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat. “Might need to check the breaker.”

She jumped up, knocking her head on the shelf mounted to the wall.

“Eden.” He crossed the room, taking her hand and edging her under the light. He tilted her head, lifting the hair at her temple. “Bumped it good.” His hand strayed to her cheek, distracted by her silky skin against his palm. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m fine,” she murmured, leaning away from his touch. He saw the hurt in her eyes, before she turned away.

“This can wait,” he said.

The lights flickered again.

“No, Archer, it can’t.” She stared at him, her expression shuttered—cold. She shook her head, flipping the power button on the scanner. She tapped the machine again, then flopped into her chair and rubbed her head. “That really hurt.”

“You should ice it,” he said.

“I’m fine,” she argued, rubbing her temple.

“If it hurts—”

She held up her hand, her attention shifting to the items covering her desk. “Everything’s done. I just need to scan it and upload it all. There’s no arguing you’ve been fiscally responsible. I’ve collected character statements from people at the state Agriculture Department, the Healing Horseshoe Therapy Ranch, the vet hospital... Anyone you’ve worked with the last year.” She glanced at him. “You’re not asking for too much, Archer...”

“Eden, breathe,” he said, stepping closer, but she shook her head. She pressed her hand to her temple again, wincing, and he headed for the freezer. He returned, carrying an ice pack. She glared at him, but he didn’t budge. She took it, wincing when she pressed the cold to her temple.

“Careful,” he said, hating to see her in pain.

She looked at him, her chin wobbling. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he said, wanting to touch her, to hold her. She’d already shrugged out of his hold once, she didn’t want his touch or his comfort.

“I do. I’ve put an even bigger target on the refuge. My...rebelliousness will hurt you.” She shook her head, her gaze meeting his. “I messed things up and I’m sorry.”

All he could do was stare at her. And the longer he stared, the more confused he became. How had she put a target on his back? What had she messed up? The paperwork? Right now, he didn’t give a shit about the paperwork.