One Last Chance

by Sherryl Woods

  “Grady Blackhawk,” Stella said at once. “I’ve heard all about it.”

  “From Cassie, I imagine.”

  “From her and from Grady himself. He comes in here from time to time.”

  Karen thought of their conversation the night before. “For the meat loaf?”

  Stella grinned. “That man does love my meat loaf. Of course, he’s also partial to chicken-fried steak and pot roast. Any man who drives as far as he does for my food is either close to starving or he genuinely likes it.”

  “You sound as if you approve of him.”

  “I do,” Stella said, regarding Karen closely. “Why does that surprise you?” She held up a hand. “Never mind. I know. It’s because there was bad blood between him and Caleb.”

  “Can you think of a better reason?”

  “Sure. One that you came up with on your own after giving the man a chance.” She studied Karen gravely. “I think maybe that’s what’s bothering you. You’re kind by nature. You give most people a fair chance to prove themselves. A second chance when it’s called for. You’re not doing that with Grady, and it doesn’t sit well with you.”

  “Maybe that’s right,” Karen admitted. It was true that she liked to form her own opinions about people. And she’d never taken the view that a husband and wife had to have the exact same friends—so why was she so determined to make Caleb’s enemy into her own?

  Because Caleb was dead, of course. Who would stand up to Grady if she didn’t do it? And it wasn’t about personalities, anyway. It was about the ranch.

  “Are you going to sell the ranch to Grady?” Stella asked, getting to the point.

  “No,” Karen said.

  “Then what’s the problem? Sounds to me as if your decision is made and it’s final.”

  “He…” She regarded Stella with the helpless feeling of a teenager admitting to a crush. After a minute, she gathered her courage and said it. “Grady bothers me.” It felt surprisingly good to get the words out, words she hadn’t been able to manage to her oldest friends, even when they’d given her ample opportunity to say them.

  A grin tugged at Stella’s lips. She didn’t look the least bit shocked. “Is that so? Now, if you ask me, you’ve just admitted to being a full-fledged, red-blooded female. That man is something to look at. Ain’t a woman living who would deny feeling her senses go into overdrive when he walks into a room.”

  “Really?” Karen asked hopefully. “Then I’m not being disloyal to Caleb’s memory?”

  “Sweetie, I would tell you the same thing if Caleb were still alive and sitting right here across from you. There’s not a thing wrong with looking at a fine specimen of a man. Now doing something about it is a whole other story.” Her gaze narrowed. “You thinking of getting involved with Grady? Is that the way things are moving?”

  “Absolutely not,” Karen said fiercely. She had never allowed her thoughts to stray beyond admitting to an attraction. And she wouldn’t permit herself to go any further.

  Stella chuckled. “Then you might want to temper that protest just a little. Sounds a little too emphatic, if you know what I mean.”

  Unfortunately, Karen knew exactly what she meant. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

  “Not yet, but you could be looking at it,” the older woman said. She reached across the table and patted Karen’s hand. “And to tell the truth, I don’t think that would be such a bad thing. There’s no set timetable for grieving, not like in the old days, when people were expected to put everything on hold for a full year of mourning. Life goes on, Karen. It’s meant for living. Caleb wouldn’t begrudge you happiness. Just be sure the timing is right for you, not Grady.”

  “It’s wrong,” she said, as much to herself as to Stella. “Caleb hated him.”

  Stella gave her a serious look. “Meaning no disrespect to your husband—he was a good boy and a fine man—but he held on to grudges that weren’t his. Don’t you do the same.”

  Before Karen could ask what Stella had meant by grudges that weren’t Caleb’s, the door opened and the first rush of morning customers came in, bringing cold air and shouted pleas for hot coffee with them.

  “Just think about what I’ve said,” Stella said as she stood up. “I’ll bring you your breakfast in a minute. Let me get these heathens settled down first.”

  “I haven’t ordered,” Karen pointed out.

  “No need. You have the same thing every time, the number three with the egg scrambled.”

  As Stella walked away, Karen thought about that, thought about everything going on in her life. “I’m in a rut,” she muttered, just as Cassie slid into the booth opposite her.

  “Talking to yourself is not a good sign,” she advised Karen. “I only have a second before it gets crazy in here. Are you okay? Need somebody to talk to?”

  “I did, but Stella filled in.”

  Cassie grinned. “She always has. Now sit tight. I imagine Emma will be in shortly to keep you company. Of course, Ford may be right behind her. The man’s been like her shadow lately. She still says it’s wearing on her nerves, but she hasn’t chased him off yet. What about you? Did you chase Grady Blackhawk off permanently the other day?”

  “Afraid not,” Karen admitted ruefully. “In fact, that’s why I’m here. He was at the ranch all day yesterday and said he’d be back today.”

  Cassie’s expression turned indignant. “All day? What is wrong with that man? He wasn’t pressuring you again, was he? Maybe Emma was right about getting a restraining order.”

  “No, he wasn’t pressuring me, not the way you mean. In fact, just the opposite. He showed up and went straight to work without a word to me. When I caught sight of him, he was stripping the paint off the barn.”

  Cassie looked as stunned as Karen had felt when she’d first seen him outside. “What? Why would he do a thing like that?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” she said wearily. “He seems to have a list of projects he intends to help me with. Did I ask for that help? No. Do I want it? No. Does he listen to a word I say? No.”

  Her friend chuckled. “Interesting. A man who can’t take no for an answer. I have one at home just like that.”

  “Don’t even go there,” Karen said.

  Before the morning was out, she had advice from Emma and Gina and Lauren, all of whom had popped in and out of Stella’s just long enough to grab some food before getting on with their days. Unfortunately, the only way Karen could get on with her day or her life would be to go home…where Grady would be waiting.

  Since she was not prepared to deal with the man—or her own tangled emotions—again so soon, she headed for Laramie instead. Maybe a movie and some wistful window-shopping—the only kind of shopping she could afford right now—would get her mind off him. At the very least, it would mean she could delay dealing with Grady until tomorrow.

  Unfortunately, the lead in the movie she chose looked a lot like Grady. And the actor who resembled her sexy nemesis was the romantic hero, not the villain. It seemed that everything was conspiring to change her opinion of Grady, which meant she was just going to have to cling more tightly to all the warnings Caleb had uttered over the years. Maybe, if she repeated them like a mantra, this uneasy weakening of her resolve would end, and she could go on with her life as before.

  True, these days everything seemed a bit rocky and difficult, but she’d take that anytime over dealing with Grady and the unlikely, inappropriate feelings he’d begun to stir in her.

  * * *

  Grady didn’t bother going to the door when he arrived the next day. He just started to work, counting on Karen to spot him sooner or later as she had the day before. He couldn’t seem to stop his gaze from drifting to the house now and again, though, as he tried to imagine what Karen was up to inside.

  Was she baking again? Those cook
ies had been the best he’d had in a long time. He couldn’t help wondering if there were any left or when she might appear with a few. Or maybe she’d taken the hint about an apple pie. Maybe one was cooling on top of the stove right now. He’d been on his own so long that the mere thought of home-baked treats made his mouth water.

  Fortunately, he’d learned never to rely on wishful thinking when it came to food or drink. He’d brought a thermos filled with coffee and a cooler with him. The latter was filled with sandwiches and sodas, enough to share in that warm, cozy kitchen if the opportunity arose. He didn’t like the stirring of disappointment he felt when noon came and went with no sign of the woman with whom he’d meant to enjoy his meal.

  So far the only company he’d had were the two part-time hands, who regarded him with suspicion when they found him atop a ladder scraping the last of the paint off the side of the barn.

  “Who’re you?” the grizzled older man had demanded within a few minutes of Grady’s arrival.

  “Grady Blackhawk,” he replied, keeping his temper in check at their obviously dismayed reaction to his name. “And you?”

  “Ain’t none of your business who we are. We belong here and you don’t. What are you doing on Hanson property and makin’ yourself right at home, at that?”

  “Isn’t that obvious?”

  “Not to me it ain’t,” the old man said. “No way Mrs. Hanson would let you come sniffin’ around here, much less approve of you bein’ out here messin’ with her barn.”

  “And why is that?” he asked, curious to see what Karen might have said about him.

  “Because now that her husband’s dead and buried, you’re trying to steal this place right out from under her,” the younger man said. He gestured toward the paint cans stacked nearby in readiness for the next step in Grady’s project. “You trying to work up a debt she won’t be able to pay off?”

  “Absolutely not,” Grady insisted. “I’m just doing her a favor.”

  “Now why would you do that, unless you had somethin’ up your sleeve?” the old man asked. “Nobody does somethin’ for nothin’.”

  “Is that a fact?” Grady asked mildly. “Well, in this case, you’re wrong. I’m just being neighborly.”

  “Humph!” the old man said with a snort of disbelief. “Good thing she ain’t around to see this. Woman has enough on her mind without seein’ you out here makin’ like you have a right to be here.”

  “Karen’s not home?” he said, barely concealing his disappointment.

  “That’s Mrs. Hanson to you,” the old man retorted. “And no, she ain’t here. So if you were hopin’ to annoy her, you’re plumb out of luck. She’s gone for the day. Maybe longer, for all I know. Could be gone weeks. Maybe she finally went off on that fancy vacation her friends have been urgin’ her to take.”

  Grady concluded the exaggeration was meant for his benefit. He should have seen for himself that she wasn’t around. That heap of hers was gone. Maybe he’d just been hoping someone had come and towed it off to the junkyard where it belonged.

  “Seriously,” he said, “did she say when she’ll be back?”

  The two men exchanged a look, then the older one shook his head with obvious reluctance. “Not to me, she didn’t.”

  “Me, either,” the younger one said.

  “I imagine she did leave you with chores to do, though, didn’t she?” Grady said pointedly.

  “That she did,” the old man agreed.

  Even so, for a minute Grady thought they might stand right there for the rest of the day to keep an eye on him. But eventually their sense of duty overcame their suspicions and they wandered away, the old man still muttering under his breath about the nerve of some people.

  Ironically, Grady was actually relieved by their reaction. It meant there were people looking out for Karen, people who had her best interests at heart, even if they were sadly misguided where he was concerned.

  Or maybe not, he thought wryly. Maybe they had it just right. His intentions weren’t quite as honorable as he’d made them out to be. It would be wise if all of them remembered that, himself included.

  He went back to work, contenting himself with the progress he was making in scraping off the old paint. That was why he’d come, after all. He wasn’t here to see Karen Hanson with her big blue, vulnerable eyes and kissable lips.

  And pigs flew, he thought with a sigh as his gaze strayed time and again toward the driveway where he hoped to catch a glimpse of her beat-up old truck kicking up a plume of dust.

  But as night fell, there was still no sign of Karen. Even though the two men had told him she’d gone out, Grady knocked on the door in case they’d merely been trying to throw him off, but there was no answer. No welcoming lights came on in the kitchen as it grew darker.

  He poured himself a last cup of coffee from his thermos and settled into the shadows of the front porch to wait for her return. He was grateful for his sheepskin-lined jacket as the air turned cold. There was the scent of snow in it, though a blizzard hadn’t been predicted before the following week.

  As the minutes ticked by, he was tempted to throw in the towel and leave, but he stayed right where he was. He couldn’t explain why he was so determined to hang around until Karen’s return. He felt sure he wouldn’t like the answer if he tried.

  When Karen drove up at last, the headlights cut through the darkness, clearly outlining him in the rocker. She turned off the pickup’s engine, but she didn’t emerge. He could just imagine her sitting there, battling irritation…or maybe even temptation. Was she struggling with it the same way he was?

  When she finally stepped from the car, slammed the door and headed his way with a brisk stride, he concluded irritation had won. He stood to meet her, eager for a battle that was bound to warm the air by several degrees.

  “What are you doing here at this hour?” she asked mildly enough. “You’re too far away from the barn to claim you’re painting.”

  “I was waiting for you. You were out late for a woman with so much work to do around here,” he said mildly.

  “I thought you’d taken over all the hard chores,” she tossed back. “So I figured I could take a day off,” she added cheerfully.

  “Is that it? My guess is you were hiding out. Surely, I don’t scare you, do I?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You annoy me, you don’t scare me. On top of that, my comings and goings are no concern of yours,” she declared with an expected flash of temper that virtually heated the chilly night air.

  He concluded that he’d hit the nail on the head. She’d stayed away today to avoid him and was thoroughly exasperated that the tactic had failed.

  “A lady can never have too many people worrying about her,” he said. “Not in this day and age.”

  She stuffed her hands into her pockets and met his gaze evenly. “Would it surprise you to know that the only thing in my life my friends are concerned about is you?”

  Grady felt his lips twitch. “Not a bit. I imagine you’ve painted a pretty dark picture of me. Your two hands certainly seemed suspicious enough when they found me here.”

  “I imagine they were. Dooley and Hank were very loyal to Caleb. They look out for me.”

  “There’s no need to worry about me. I’m not such a bad guy,” he asserted.

  “Couldn’t prove it by me.”

  “You realize, of course, that you don’t know me at all,” he reminded her yet again.

  “I know enough.”

  He took a step closer, admiring the fact that she didn’t back away. “Such as?”

  “You’re a scoundrel and a thief,” she said flatly, dredging up old news.

  Even though they’d been over this ground before, it was evident she intended to cling to that description. Maybe it was what she used to battle the undeniable sparks of attr
action zinging between them even now.

  He stepped closer, deliberately crowding her. She continued to stand her ground, though there was an unmistakable flash of alarm in her eyes. “Really?” he said softly. “You know that for a fact?”

  “My husband said—”

  He lifted his hand and brushed a wayward strand of hair away from her cheek, felt her skin heat. “Yes, you’ve quoted him before,” he said, pulling away before the gesture could turn into a caress. “But what do you know, Karen? Not rumor. Not innuendo. Pure fact.”

  In the light of a pale half-moon, he could see her throat work as she struggled with the possibility that she had judged him unfairly. It was clear she didn’t have an answer for him, and just as clear that she didn’t like that about herself.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” he said in the same coaxing tone he’d use to gentle a wild horse. “You get to know me. Spend time with me. If you still think I’m a scoundrel and a thief, I’ll walk away and not bother you about the land again. If I prove otherwise, you’ll sell the ranch to me and get on with that traveling you’ve always dreamed about.”

  “I can’t,” she said, her voice a little breathless.

  “Why not? Don’t you trust your own judgment?”

  “Of course, but—”

  “It’s a fair deal, Karen. You know it is.”

  “I still can’t do it,” she said.

  She said it flatly, but Grady thought there was a slightly wistful note in her voice for the first time.

  “Suit yourself. I’ll just come up with some other way to go about this,” he said with an indifferent shrug, and started to walk away. He didn’t get far.

  “This experiment of yours,” she called after him, sounding resigned. “How long would it last and what would it entail?”

  He turned back to face her. “As long as it takes and whatever’s necessary.”

  She shook her head. “Absolutely not. It’ll only work if there are rules and we both agree to them.”

  “Okay, then,” he relented. “A month and we’ll only share a few meals, a little conversation. Nothing more. What’s the harm in that? We got through dinner last night without the world coming to an end, didn’t we?”