Free Heart of Grace (Return to Grace Trilogy #1) by Abigail Easton

it. He didn’t take the hint.
Before she could utter another word he was through the entry
and making his way to the couch.
“Did you sleep well?” he settled down and propped his feet
on the coffee table.
She stayed standing. “Well enough.”
Cole watched her with such intent in his eyes she wanted
to squirm.
“What?”
“You,” Cole said with a teasing laugh. “I expected you to
answer the door all dolled up in one of your fancy suits.”
Angela sniffed and sipped her coffee. “Well, I don’t keep
myself fitting into those fancy suits without a little work. I was
exercising. What are you doing here? I thought we were taking
the weekend off.”
“We are. I’m just checking on you,” he said. “We still do
that sort of thing ‘round here. Do you need anything?”
“You mean besides a plane ticket out of here? Or a mental
examination for staying?” She rolled her eyes. “Not a thing.”
“Good.” He rose. “I’ll be in town for most of the day. Mrs.
Hammerby has a broken porch step I promised to fix and she’ll
probably have a half dozen other projects while I’m there. And
she’ll make me stay for tea as a way of saying ‘thank you.’ After
that I’ll be headed to the arena to check on the cleanup from
last night’s circuit.”
“You don’t need to tell me your schedule.” She opened the
door.
“I know.” He smiled and tipped his hat. “Good day,
Angie.”
Dread filled her to the brim as she watched him leave. She
had two full days with nothing to do. Sipping her coffee, she
looked at her briefcase propped against the wall on the other
side of the room. She’d brought work from the job she had
quit, a habit.
Angela set her coffee down without finishing it and
prepared to get to work.
****
The coffee shop in town was in the same place it had
always been, on Main along the wooden boardwalk. The spot
had once been a saloon. It had been modernized over the years,
but maintained many of the same rustic features of aged wood
and leather. It still smelled of smoke and whiskey. A menu
behind the bar boasted a surprisingly diverse selection of
coffees. It was not what she was used to, but Angela was
pleased to discover she’d at least be able to order a latte.
She was equally pleased when she sat at a corner table and
powered up her notebook computer. The coffee shop had
wireless Internet.
“I guess some things have changed,” Angela muttered
under breath. She sipped her latte and winced at the taste of
burned coffee drowned in sour milk. And some things, she
mused, have not.
She worked until past noon, sitting unnoticed in the little
coffee shop. It was not uncommon for tourists to frequent the
area during the summer rodeo season, and so most passed her
by without a single thought. Besides, few would see the girl
they remembered in the businesswoman who sat there now,
staring at a computer screen.
She was not surprised when Jeffrey’s instant message
popped up on her screen. She had known he would notice she
was online.
“I have some questions about the Johnson account,” the
message stated.
“I’m working on my accounts now to get them to a point
where someone else can handle them. I’ll send everything
when it’s ready.” She read over the statement three times
before hitting “send.”
“Can we meet for lunch?”
“I’m in Montana,” Angela typed, and then clicked the
“send” button.
“When will you be back? I want to see you.”
She bit her lip, hating the surge of frustration he always
managed to draw out of her, even over instant message.
Angela closed her eyes. “No,” she typed.
Almost two full minutes passed without a response from
Jeffrey. Angela imagined he was working up his anger. He had
probably written half a dozen messages that he didn’t send.
Finally, a message came across her screen: “Very well.
Goodbye.”
She closed her files, unable to bear them, and opened a
browser to pull up her bank account information. There wasn’t
enough