Free A Real Cowboy Never Walks Away (Wyoming Rebels Book 4) by Stephanie Rowe Page A

daughter?
    She bit her lower lip, fighting against the cascade of hopelessness trying to overtake her.
    No. She wasn't giving up yet. She could do this. She could find a way. She had to find a way.
    She swept the abandoned table clean, resetting it with record speed while she tracked the cooking time of the burgers on the grill in her head. She gestured for a waiting couple to be seated, then practically sprinted into the kitchen with the dirty plates—
    And then stopped dead, in absolute shock.
    Travis was at the grill again, wearing her pink apron, cooking. He'd come back to help her. Instantly,the tears she'd been holding in so ruthlessly spilled over.
    He looked up, and she was shocked by the depth of emotion in his eyes. Anger. Fury. Desperation. He looked lost and embattled, stark and raw, as if he'd been dragged through hell and barely survived. He didn't look like a superstar. He looked like someone barely hanging on.
    As his gaze settled on hers, however, the darkness vanished from his face, and the anger faded. He swore under his breath and strode over to her. "What's wrong?" He brushed his thumb through the tears trickling down her cheek.
    She shook her head. "I just..." She wiped her palm across her cheek, trying to erase the evidence of her weakness. In that moment, she didn't care if he was a celebrity or a homeless man. All that mattered was that he'd come back to help her. God only knew why he was there, but in that moment, it didn't matter. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice choked. "I couldn't keep up out there, and I couldn't find anyone to help—"
    "I got it covered." He framed her face with his hands, his thumbs rubbing across her cheeks. "Don't worry about the food. Just flash that gorgeous smile of yours at the customers, and they'll all forgive you."
    She nodded, not even bothering with the polite facade of refusing his charity. She couldn't afford to say no. Later, she'd figure it out, but right now, she could do nothing but accept it. She threw her arms around him, hugging him as fiercely as she could. "Thank you!"
    He grinned. "No problem. Now get out of here." He swatted her on the butt, and her heart leapt, but she had no time to dwell on it.
    She just grabbed her notepad and hurried out the kitchen door, with fresh hope surging through her. There were still more nights to get through before the fair was over, but tonight she'd been granted a reprieve.
    Tonight was saved.
    But as she hurried out to her customers, she couldn't help but wonder what was going to happen when the last customer left, and she and Travis were alone. Travis the superstar. Travis the cook. Travis, the man who'd made her heart sing only twenty-four hours ago.

Chapter 8
    " P ie time ."
    Travis looked up from scrubbing the last of the tables as Lissa walked in from the kitchen, carrying two plates of pie topped with ice cream. It was almost two in the morning, and he was tired as hell, but not as tired as Lissa looked. He'd worked his ass off all night, chopping vegetables for tomorrow on every break he got. He'd needed to stay busy, to work so hard he had no time to think, and no time to feel. The kitchen was spotless, dishes washed and put away, everything prepped for the next day. It had all been done by the time the last customer left.
    And now, he was on the last table.
    There was nothing else to do.
    Nothing to distract him.
    He didn't want to sit down. He didn't want to think. He just wanted to keep going, to outrun the darkness trying to destroy him.
    But Lissa set the plates down on one of the tables and took a seat.
    He gritted his teeth, tempted to make an excuse, leave, and go for a three-hour run until morning came...but then he thought of the tears in her eyes when she'd found him in the kitchen, and something inside him softened. She'd been desperate, beyond coping, and he'd helped her.
    It felt good. Better than any moment he'd had in a long time.
    And now, as she propped her chin up on her hand, he could