Rachel Lee - A Cowboy For Christmas

“If she lets you know in any way that she feels I’m neglecting her because I get too absorbed in my composing, will you tell me?”

Abby nodded. “Okay, I can do that.”

“Thanks.”

She thought that would end their conversation, but instead he rose, refilled his mug and returned to the table.

“So what’s your story, Abby?” he asked, his tone surprisingly kind.

It was that kindness that got to her. It felt like a long time since anyone had expressed a truly kind interest in her. Her friends had grown angry on her behalf, and too many people had been trying to avoid looking at her, as if she made them uneasy. His frankness, the gentleness of his tone...well, they made her throat and chest tighten.

Oh, man, she didn’t want to start weeping. She tried to draw some steadying breaths, and finally managed to say, “Old familiar story. Husband runs off with another woman. Who happened to be my boss until then. Nothing unusual in that, I guess.”

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I’m sorry.”

She couldn’t answer. She became fascinated by the pattern on the tabletop. Easier than looking at him and perhaps seeing pity.

He astonished her by reaching across the table and lightly covering her hand with his. “We all have some healing to do,” he said quietly. “Maybe this place will help us find some peace. Good night, Abby. Thanks for listening.”

She didn’t move until she heard him reach the top of the stairs. Then she stood and turned off the coffeepot, rinsing it out so that it would be ready for morning.

As she turned out the kitchen light and walked back to her rooms, she wondered what to make of what had just happened. The guy had reached out to her, shared some of his problems, asked about hers. Then he’d gotten up and walked away.

Had she repulsed him somehow? She wouldn’t be surprised considering the way Porter had bailed on her. Something about her had to be very wrong. She just couldn’t figure out what it was.

Much to her amazement, before she could close her suite door behind her, Rally trotted in. Still afraid to get into a disagreement with an animal so big, she readied for bed, leaving the door open, and finally climbed beneath crisp sheets and a puffy comforter.

The dog leaped up beside her and put his big head next to hers and his paw across her waist.

A hug from a dog. This might be her absolute nadir, but she didn’t care. He comforted her.

And maybe that was what she really needed.

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