Last Chance (Chances Novel Book 1)

by Kyleigh Castronaro

  1989

  Shep spent the week groveling. Whenever Honey looked like she needed help or requested something, he was first to volunteer. Rick teased him, calling him whipped, but whatever he was it didn’t matter as long as he made up for his earlier blunder. Honey held nothing back when it came to showing him how mad she was about his idea of their ‘date.'

  The first morning after the disastrous evening she had ignored him completely. By the second day, she made small noises to let him know she had heard him, but it was still another three days before she actually used words to speak to him.

  Desperate to win himself back into her good graces he used his time out as a chance to observe her, learn everything he could about her from the townies and pick up little hints about who she was from what he saw.

  Then, when he felt like he might've made some headway, he launched into his next proposal hoping to improve upon the last time she gave him a chance.

  "Please, dinner. Just us, no one else. No dances, nothing… -" He paused as she walked away like she didn't hear him. Rejection did not do well for his pride, and he had to swallow his anger that she was still so rude.

  "A table, two plates, you and me. I'm going to make it up to you." When he reached for her, he caught her elbow making her stop but not turn around, "I can do better Hon, I swear. Please."

  "Groveling doesn't look good on you." She turned slowly, "but I am a God-fearing country girl, and I believe in forgiveness…" Her words tapered off as she sized him up. He sensed her reluctance, her pride was hurt too but not as much as his. At least she was looking at him, this was an improvement over the past week. He wasn’t going to ruin his chance, nodding instead.

  “I appreciate it, and this time will be different.”

  “I hope so because you'll only get this last chance."

  "Last chance." He let her go to lay his hand over his heart like he was making a solemn vow.

  "You can pick me up at seven," she turned and began walking again.

  "Seven!" he rushed after her, "tonight?"

  "Yes, I suspect if you have too much time to think about this date, it'll be a fiasco like our last one."

  "Right, okay. I can do tonight."

  “Good, because that's the only night I'm free." He doubted that given the impression he got from the local guys. But if this was a test, he planned on passing it with flying colors. He was a Veteran after all. With a little more than five hours to figure out what he was going to do and how he was going to impress her. So Shep went to Rick, of all people, for advice.

  "I need a nice restaurant."

  Rick threw the bale of hay in the general direction of the rest of the pile before straightening up, using his handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his brow.

  "Define nice?"

  "Fancy, expensive, something really impressive."

  "Ain't nothing like that in Pleasant Lake, that's for sure."

  "I could borrow a car," the suggestion left Shep's mouth before he considered it. Who did he know that had a car and would they let him use it?

  "Well, in that case, there's Chez Francois in Midland."

  "Chez Francois, that's French - right?"

  “French is always fancy." Shep had to agree with that assessment, but Midland was a twenty-minute drive away, so he definitely needed a car.

  "Don't suppose you have a vehicle?"

  "Sorry, I ride a bike." Shep rode a motorcycle for the Army, horses too, but he preferred the raw power you got with four wheels.

  "I could ride a bike," he said thoughtfully before glancing back at Rick, who had resumed tossing bales. "How much you want for it?"

  "Sorry?" Rick stopped mid throw, turning to face him. "You wanna buy my bike?"

  "Sure, seems like I might need it for the rest of the summer with Honey anyways." He was optimistic since he didn't plan on screwing tonight up again. He could only imagine things getting better from here.

  "You haven't seen it."

  "I trust if there's something wrong with it you would tell me before selling it to me, wouldn't you?"

  Whether that was true or not, Rick seemed to size him up for a moment before nodding in agreement. Whatever he decided, he kept to himself.

  “Alright, how about two hundred?”

  “Two hundred? How about one fifty.” Shep countered.

  “One seventy-five.”

  "Deal." Shep held his hand out, and they shook on it. They planned to meet at six-thirty for Shep to look it over before he had to get to Honey's.

  Rick made good on his deal, the bike was in decent shape, and while Shep thought he might've been able to get the price down a bit lower, based on knowing the condition now, he was a man of his word. Plus, there was enough to spruce up on the bike that the prospect of having a project for the rest of the summer was exciting to him. He might be able to make his money back when he got the bike back to the city.

  Chapter 8

  1989

  At 6:57pm, he pulled up outside of Honey’s house where she sat on the porch rocking chair waiting for him patiently. An older woman, who looked quite a bit like her daughter, stood in the window watching him. He wanted to make a good impression, tipping his hat at her before climbing off the bike and heading up to the porch.

  “These are for your mama.” He said as he held out a bunch of flowers he’d stolen off Mrs. Grant’s kitchen table. Honey didn’t need to know that.

  “And nothing for me?” Honey asked with a coy smile as she took the bunch.

  “The pleasure of my company,” it was supposed to be a joke, but maybe it was too soon as Shep watched Honey cringe and roll her eyes. She pulled the porch door open and stepped inside long enough to pass off the flowers before coming back out.

  “We’re going on that?”

  “I hope that’s okay,” he walked back to the bike and produced a blanket, “I figured you might be wearing a dress, so I brought this for your lap.”

  Honey self-consciously ran her hands down her thighs, smoothing out the flowered sundress she was wearing before nodding her head. She took the blanket Shep held and walked uneasily to the motorbike. She'd never ridden one before, though she'd heard a lot about them.

  “You’re safe,” he assured her as he held out his hand, “I’ve been riding for years, never had an accident and I don’t plan to have one any time soon.”

  “Well, that’s a comfort.” She teased him as she took the outstretched hand, climbing onto the back of the bike carefully and wrapping the blanket around her lap to cover her legs. He stepped up and adjusted her to make room for him to sit before reaching out and tucking the excess under her legs nice and tight. When it looked like she was ready, he climbed on ahead of her and revved the engine.

  "You'll want to hang on." He shouted over his shoulder as he kicked off. Honey wrapped her arms around his waist, her hands falling against the soft fabric of his dress shirt hidden under the leather jacket he wore. His skin was hot enough to radiate through the cotton, warming her hands against the hardness of his abs. She was so close to him she could smell the aftershave he had chosen, a careful mix to highlight his cologne making him smell like apple pie and the ocean all at the same time. She instinctively drew closer, taking a deeper breath and letting her eyes close in safe comfort.

  Shep rode carefully, though not careful enough to stick to the speed limit. She was tense when they first got on the road, but the more he felt her relax, the more he wanted her to enjoy herself. The trees blurred alongside them, and the wind blew her hair into wild twists. He felt it tickling his neck as they took turns along the backroads and her body pressed closer to his causing a deep hunger to knot in the pit of his stomach.

  When they got to Midland, he was almost disappointed the ride was over, and the intimacy of the shared seat was gone. He slipped off the bike and helped her off before chuckling.

  “You may want to fix your hair love,” he moved the rear-view mirror to point it at her, watching her bend down and finger her long strands less
obsessively than other girls he’d been with.

  “It’s fine,” she said with a shrug, looking back up. He was almost relieved by the idea she lacked the high maintenance he had grown used to with his other girlfriends.

  “It’s perfect,” he agreed with a smile before offering her his arm. Honey finally had the chance to take in where he had brought her, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw the fancy sign hanging over the door.

  "Oh," she said, almost like she was reconsidering her hair or perhaps her appearance in general. That was good, it meant Rick hadn't steered him wrong with the suggestion. But she needn't worry about how she looked. Shep knew, without a doubt, she would be the most gorgeous woman in the room, even if Cindy Crawford herself was there.

  "Hungry?" He asked as he guided her to the door, holding it open before following her in. The room was dimly lit, candles in sconces hung on the wall, and each table was dressed in white linen and set with all the fixings. Honey mentally counted the number of forks on the table as she sat, trying to figure out what they were all for before looking up at Shep as the maître d′ took his jacket from him and offered them wine.

  Shep ordered with confidence before he sat, giving her time to see they had been placed at a corner table far away from the other couples and patrons. They were utterly alone, almost as if they had the restaurant to themselves. No doubt a deliberate choice by Shep to make up for the last time. Across the room, a three-piece band played beautiful music that made her heart speed up a little bit, and Honey felt out of her depth while Shep looked like he belonged here.

  “How am I doing so far?” He asked with a grin, making her attention fall back to her date.

  "Good, really good…" She admitted almost shyly, and Shep was pleased that her natural defense mechanism had turned off - for now.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I pre-ordered our food for us because I wanted to make sure they had what I wanted.”

  “Oh?”

  “I know, it’s presumptuous, but this is my last chance after all. I wanted to make sure it was perfect.”

  “And what if I have allergies?”

  Shep hadn't thought of that, and the idea that she might made him blanche slightly with panic. Honey watched as the color drained from his face and couldn't help but laugh. When he realized she was teasing him again, he smiled and shook his head at her.

  "You're gonna put me through the wringer, woman."

  “My mother always said--” She blushed and didn't finish her statement. This awoke Shep's curiosity, and he smirked.

  “What did your mother always say?”

  “Never mind,” Honey said, fussing instead with her napkin as she shook it out and laid it across her lap carefully. Shep was still interested but knew better than to press. He would get the answer out of her before the end of the night - he hoped.

  "To start," the waiter appeared laying down two trays of escargot in front of them, and Honey looked like she had no idea what she was about to eat.

  “If I told you what this was, you wouldn’t want to try it. …” He never got to finish his sentence as she boldly picked up her fork and took the cheesy buds into her mouth. He watched her mouth as she ate and although it shouldn't be, watching her eat was sexy.

  “Wow, that’s… amazing,” she said, going for the next one. “I love the mix of garlic and cheese, the saltiness of the - is it fish?”

  “Snail. Sea snails, not garden snails, so you’re not far off.”

  "Snail." She repeated, looking down at the tray. He wondered if the truth had put her off, but she quickly placed the second in her mouth and smiled at him. He grinned back, diving into his own appetizer, pleased that he had managed to surprise her with something new. The wine paired perfectly with the appetizer and Honey found herself loosening up with every sip.

  The looser she got, however, the more she realized how intimidated she was by all of this and him. She liked him, a lot, and as the evening went on, she began to think about how different they were based on how comfortable he was in such a swanky restaurant. She was a simple country girl, what could she possibly have in common with him?

  And yet as they spoke over their starter, the conversation flowed smoothly, and they both laughed more freely as they began to relax. Each realizing that, although they came from different worlds, there was something so natural in their coming together.

  Chapter 9

  1989

  “Your dinner, mademoiselle.” The waiter set down a plate laden with a steak and vegetables, coated in a béarnaise sauce - she was told - and fresh bread.

  "No allergies so far?" Shep made her look back up at him as she laughed, shaking her head. She reached for her knife first before staring at the series of forks looking back at her. She decided that maybe the biggest one was the option she should begin with. As she was about to dive in, the three-piece band made its way over to them and asked for a request.

  Shep left it up to Honey, whose mind went blank. She wanted something romantic, something to make this perfect night better but she couldn't think of anything. She couldn't think of a single song, and as the seconds ticked by, turning the moment into something far more awkward, she panicked and said the first song she could think of.

  “Canadian Sunset,” she blurted out, “Andy Williams.” Everyone turned to stare at her, trying to process her suggestion before the band leader nodded his head, conducting his bandmates to start.

  Honey looked down at her plate, exhaling nervously as she picked up her utensils and got to work trying to cut her steak up. Shep watched her for a few minutes as she attempted to work at the meat with little success before he finally began to laugh.

  Honey’s face snapped up to stare at him in surprise before he reached out, still shaking with silent laughter and took her knife from her, flipping it over.

  “Not going to get far with the dull side.” She was mortified, looking at her plate before she began to laugh too. Tears built up in her eyes as laughter stole her breath.

  "C'mon, you requested this song." Shep held out his hand to her, offering another smile. Honey looked around to see no one else was dancing. There wasn't a dance floor. And it definitely wasn't an appropriate song to dance to. This restaurant was not the venue where dancing was encouraged. She shook her head quickly and quietly in protest, but Shep took hold of her hand and tugged her to her feet.

  “Don’t worry, it’s fine.”

  "I'm not sure it's fine." She protested again, but it fell on deaf ears as Shep's arm encircled her waist, pulling her closer and the heat emulating off his body stole her breath away. He was firm in all the right ways, holding her closer than any man had before. There was something almost sexual in their closeness but, again, what did she know of these things? However, Shep Wheeler seemed to be the epitome of sex if anything the other girls said about him was right. He was a catch, to be sure, but she worried that monogamy might not be in his vocabulary.

  He twirled her around, right there in front of everyone. As he dipped her low, she instinctively made to grab the front of her dress before he righted her once more. Eyes were watching them, of that she was acutely aware, as they brazenly made a display of themselves. His fingers folded around hers and despite the embarrassment she expected herself to feel, Honey found she was smiling. She was unable to help it as he carried on.

  He whisked her around the other tables, circling them and keeping the eyes on them. It gave Honey the chance to take in the other women’s dresses and once more she felt out of place in her simple sundress. They smiled at them, but she couldn’t help wondering if it was because they were dancing to a rather unromantic song. Or if they admired their youthful boldness.

  Shep didn't seem to mind as he kept swaying her around the floor until the band's performance came to an end and they were left dancing to silence. Shep grinned at her, pleased that she had played along as much as she had and, better yet, she was breathlessly smiling back at him.

  He led them to their dinner tab
le and helped her sit before resuming his place, picking up his knife and making a funny show of how to use it. Honey laughed again, and he enjoyed the spread of pink blush that blossomed high on her cheeks.

  The conversation flowed smoothly between them again as they made their way through the main course and into dessert. Honey enjoyed the bottle of wine they shared right to the end, the effects helped weaken her resolve a little further.

  Maybe she had been too hard on him to begin with, making him jump through too many hoops. His life was fascinating, seeing and doing the things he had. He was a young man looking to have fun, didn’t she want that too?

  The more they spoke, the more Honey could picture herself spending her time with him, traveling the world and seeing all these amazing things together. Shep coming into her life spoke of a possibility to escape her small-time life and want something bigger for herself.

  Maybe she didn’t need to be a farmer's daughter for the rest of her life. Perhaps she could wish for something bigger. She hadn't applied to colleges away from the area because she felt obligated to stay home and help her family. But did she have to? Why couldn't she have a life of her own? Living in the city with Shep seemed like a grand adventure that promised an array of possibilities.

  When they were finished their meal and headed back to Pleasant Lake, Shep took the backroads to the backroads if only to extend their time together. Honey appreciated the thought, finding herself growing more accustomed to hanging onto him as they flew along the dirt roads on the back of his motorbike.

  He gave her his leather jacket, worn and warm, to wrap around her shoulders. It smelled of him, the heady mix of his aftershave and cologne. She found herself inhaling the notes of vanilla, cinnamon, and apple. It was delicious.

  As they pulled up in front of her house, she was reluctant to let go of him as he turned the engine off. Shep could sense the change of attitude like a discernible shift in the atmosphere. He was pleased with himself, feeling as though he had accomplished some kind of national security mission. He had managed to convince her that he was worthy of her attention, if not something more.