A Cowboy for the CEO

Chapter 25: Thunderstruck

They crossed the street and entered the building, stopping in the blindingly-white atrium. Hank shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders. "So, what would you like to see?"

"Oh, my goodness. I don't even know where to start," Ali said, opening up the visitor's guide she'd picked up on the way in. "I suppose I should take advantage of their specialized collections. I heard they have exceptional Native American and Asian exhibits, but then again, I've always been partial to the European masters."

He stepped closer and glanced over her shoulder, peeking at the pamphlet's map. "Classical or contemporary?"

"Um, classical, for sure." She could feel his chest touching her back and his breath tickled her earlobe, making it hard to concentrate. "Maybe it's just me, but I just don't get the appeal of modern art."

"Fair enough," he said with a laugh before stepping away again. "Second floor it is."

They scaled the winding stairs, and Ali took her time moving from room to room. She stopped long enough to admire each work, and at first Hank kept pace, standing behind her while inconspicuously following along. After a while he moved ahead, allowing Ali to occasionally sneak glances his way.

On the surface, he looked like any other museum patron stopping by for an hour or two on a Saturday afternoon to soak up a little visual culture. But was he even enjoying himself, or was he there only for her? She still knew so little about him, and as Ali watched him stand with his arms crossed a few feet away from an eighteenth-century pastoral landscape, she wondered if he would have rather been back on a horse in a meadow like the one he was studying.

The thought reminded her of something she wanted to ask, and, leaving behind a battered man-of-war drifting on rough seas, she stepped next to him. "What were you doing out there, anyway? At the team-building challenge, I mean."

"One of the guys from the Academy had a last-minute emergency," he answered without moving his attention off the painting, as if he had been expecting the eventual query. "I'm friends with Jeffries, and I've done those challenges before, so when he asked me to fill in, I said yes."

"Did you know I'd be there?" she pressed on, studying his profile. The proportions of his smooth forehead, shapely nose, and strong jawline came together perfectly. Even his ear—often either too small or too large on an otherwise handsome man— was just the right size, and Ali sighed at how damn attractive he was.

He shrugged. "I suppose I could've guessed, but I didn't really even consider it at the time."

"So you didn't plan on humiliating me like that?" she snapped, surprising even herself at the pent-up resentment.

"Humiliating you?" He turned with a scowl to finally look at her. "Of course not, and I'm so sorry if that's how I made you feel."

Ali pressed her lips together to keep from bursting into tears as she remembered what it was like to stand on top of a teetering pole thirty feet up in the air. Hank reached for her face, but she stepped away.

"No, I'm okay." She shook her head, pulling herself together quickly as she left his side. "I just needed to know. And you should know something, as well."

"What's that?" he asked, following as she started walking toward the adjacent gallery.

She looked over her shoulder and sniffled. "It worked. I've been out on the trails twice since. This morning I even went alone," she said with unhidden pride.

Hank grabbed her hand, forcing Ali to face him. "That's amazing. I knew you could—" He broke off when an older woman tapped her cane against the marble floor, indicating they were blocking her way. Following an apologetic nod, he pulled Ali aside and gestured toward a bench. "Here. Let's sit."