Second Burn Cowboy (Second Chance Series Book 6)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  “No, thank you, BreAnn.” He dug into his eggs, oblivious to the girl’s flirting.

  “Maybe I can come out to the ranch and take a ride.” The girl beamed.

  He didn’t even look at her. “Anytime. Just tell one of the boys to saddle up the gentlest mare.”

  With a slumping of shoulders, BreAnn turned and left them alone.

  “Did you not see that?” Elsa asked.

  He looked at her over his fork. “See what?”

  “She was so coming on to you. I think you wounded her.”

  “BreAnn? She looks at me as if I’m old enough to be her father. In fact, I’m good friends with her parents.”

  She’d let him believe what he wanted. Some men had no clue that certain girls liked older men. Elsa knew this from experience.

  Busily buttering her toast, she took a bite, chewed, then asked, “How is it possible that you aren’t married? I’m sure it’s not from a lack of interested females.”

  “I’ve been waiting for the right one and she never came along.” He finished the last bite of food. “My brothers tell me I work too much and don’t get out often enough, so I’ve missed a lot of opportunities.”

  “If my two-cents are worth anything, I’d say you always dedicate yourself to helping others and haven’t taken the time to enjoy life.”

  He sat back in the cushion. “I enjoy life.”

  “When did you vacation last?”

  “Vacation is overrated.”

  “Said no one ever but you.” Dropping the toast to her plate, she brushed the crumbs from her fingers. “Admit it, you need to find someone who’ll drag you away from work and show you some fun.”

  “Anyone in mind?” His smile was lethal.

  How did all of their conversations end with goosebumped and trembling flesh? She walked right into the trap, but couldn’t resist. “I’d suggest the pretty waitress, but—”

  “She’s not my type.”

  “Exactly.” She placed her palms on the table. “What type are you looking for?”

  “Can’t answer that because I ain’t looking. When she’s ready, fate will send her my way.”

  His gaze burned a hole through her, injecting sweet poison into her blood. “Confidence is a virtue.”

  “Could be foolishness. I’m not quite sure yet.”

  Heat spiraled through her, settling in the apex of her thighs. “I guess we should go. I’m sure you’re ready to get back to the ranch.”

  He shrugged. “A break doesn’t hurt a cowboy now and again. I’ll take you wherever you need to go. You did say I needed someone to drag me away.” The soft drawl and the meaning of his words wreaked havoc on her senses.

  As they left the restaurant, he pressed his hand on the small of her back and she couldn’t think logically with him so close.

  Inside the truck, he turned on the A/C and she managed to breathe normally again.

  They drove toward the location of her shop, which was only two blocks away. When they pulled in front of the demolished building, Elsa reminded herself to stay strong.

  The site was lined with yellow caution tape and smoke still rose from the black hole where her business stood. Everything was a total loss, except for a few personal items she kept in the back of the business van parked across the street. Thankfully, it was safe.

  She tore her attention away from the tragedy and concentrated on unlocking the vehicle.

  “I don’t want to leave the van sitting here. I’ll drive myself back to the ranch.” She knew what he’d say before he opened his mouth but she let him continue.

  “Doc said no driving.”

  “And I’m sure you were told to keep a bandage on your healing stitches.” She tilted her chin and looked at him through the veil of her lashes. Didn’t he think she’d notice he’d removed the dressing just as soon as she turned her back?

  His gaze narrowed. “Then I’ll follow you.”

  She shrugged. At least they’d compromised.

  Once situated in the driver’s seat, she gave him a quick wave. He nodded.

  Key in the ignition, she gave it a turn. Whirl, whirl, whirl.

  Grimacing, she pumped the gas pedal.

  The engine whined again in protest and refused to start. They’d always had a love-hate relationship, and apparently, they were on the wrong side today.

  Pressing her forehead to the steering wheel, she counted to ten. A knock on the window made her lift her gaze. Lines of concern etched Deckland’s rugged, tanned face.

  She opened the door and stepped out. “It won’t start.”

  “Pop the hood. I’ll give it a look.”

  Reaching in and pulling the lever, she watched as he disappeared under the hood, only to come up a few minutes later with a sour expression. “I can’t find anything here, but I’m not a mechanic either.”

  The brink of sanity she clung to threatened to crumble. “Just my luck.”

  “I’ll make a call. Dante will have it fixed in no time.” He took his phone out of his pocket.

  “No, you can’t do that.” Seeing his curiosity, she shook her head. “Remember, he said April is sick. He’s too busy to worry about fixing a car.”

  “I’ll call a mechanic, but they’ll take longer.”

  Inwardly shrinking, she hesitated. Did she have a choice? “One thing I’ve learned since living here, time is only a number on a clock. But looks like that’s the path I have to go.”

  “Things could always be worse.”

  And so he kept reminding her.

  Folding her arms over her chest, she looked from the demolished building back to him. “I have an order of two hundred cupcakes due in two days.”

  “I don’t bake, but I have a kitchen.”

  “By chance, do you have mini cupcake pans?” His brow crooked and she bit back laughter. “You mind taking me to the closest kitchen store?”

  “What else do I have to do today? Better than shoveling horse shit and stacking bales of hay.”

  “I’m not sure if that was sarcasm, but before this is all through you’re going to be wishing you’d never met me. Three days and then I’ll hit the road. I promise.”

  His smile broadened. “Three days, three months, my home is your home.”

  “Can you help me grab something?” She was already opening the side door to the van. Taking out two small suitcases, she dropped the bags at his feet. “This is odd, I know, but I can explain.”

  He shrugged. “You don’t owe me an explanation, unless you’re storing dead bodies.”

  “No dead bodies.” She laughed. “I’ve always been the type to stay prepared for anything. As a kid, my mom and I bounced around from place to place, starting from scratch many times, and I never found it fun. Sometimes we lived in our car and took sponge baths in gas station restrooms. Nothing like trying to get clean and feeling dirtier because you stepped in someone’s urine.” He was one of the few people she’d told this to. When he didn’t offer her a word or expression of sympathy, relief spread through her. The last thing she ever wanted was another person’s pity. “Old habits die hard.”

  “You still take showers in a sink surrounded by puddles of urine?” he teased.

  Laughter bubbled inside of her. “No, that was never a habit but a necessity. I’m referring to keeping my belongings safe.”

  “Maybe one day you’ll feel secure enough so that you won’t have to stay prepared for something bad to happen.”

  Looking back at the destroyed remains of her business, she sighed. “Some plans are thwarted.”

  He reached down, grabbed the bags, anchoring the largest over his shoulder. He didn’t even break a sweat. “When I was a kid my mom told me when a door closes, we find the open window. I know it’s hard to see the positive side to all of this when it’s raw and fresh, but you’d be surprised at the opportunities you have waiting. You just have to look for your open window.” He walked to his truck and placed the bags in back.

  Elsa wished she had an ounce of hi
s hope.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DECKLAND SAT ON the top rail of the fence and scanned the enclosed pasture flowing with Black Angus cattle. Next week, another two-hundred head would be delivered.

  Because the ranch was growing rapidly, Dillon was taking care of purchasing new equipment. They could never have enough trucks and tractors, but he wanted to keep a close eye on profit versus loss.

  After much deliberation, they were expanding onto the farmland April’s grandfather had left her. Dante already built the fencing, and builders were working on three more outbuildings for the feed business.

  Pride washed over him. The ranch was becoming everything he’d wanted. His family would live here, his nieces and nephews, and possibly his own children one day, God willing. A good dose of risk, and a helluva lot of belief, was finally paying off.

  He brought the neckline of his T-shirt up to wipe the sweat from his forehead but stopped when he got a strong whiff of sugar. Hell, the shirt had been washed since Elsa had worn it to bed her first night here, yet her scent lingered. Maybe it was his imagination. Whatever the reason, the smell teased his senses and his zipper bulged. Good thing his Wranglers were built tough or he’d break a seam.

  His body responded at every slight breeze and he blamed his sensitivity on his dry spell for the last year. A cold bed every night mixed with the fact there was a beautiful woman living under the same roof was pure torment.

  He swiped his palm down his dirt-encrusted jeans and noticed a strand of hair clinging to his thigh. He pulled the hair from the material and held it up. The golden color glistened in the sunlight.

  After swallowing, the ache in his throat remained. He’d never lived with a woman that he wasn’t related to and this was all new—a test of willpower.

  Yesterday, he’d come in from work and found the house spotless and smelling like a pine tree. She’d even washed, dried, and folded his clothes and stacked them neatly on his bed.

  He wasn’t complaining, but it took a lot to remember to lower the toilet seat when he finished.

  Going into the bathroom that morning, he found intimate garments hanging from the shower rod. Red lace and thin silk made the craving in his gut tenfold. He’d turned around, stomped down the stairs and headed straight to work. Thankfully, Dillon brought him a cup of coffee from a drive-thru. It’d only eased his need for caffeine for as long as it took to get to the bottom of the foam cup.

  Hearing the purr of a truck, he glanced up as Tucker Bailey parked and slid from the driver’s side. Deckland waved his long-time friend over. The tall man, similarly dressed and build as Deckland, moved across the grass.

  He was looking for a ranch hand specializing in raising Black Angus and, thankfully, he found Tucker was back in town and looking for a new position. Deckland knew Tucker’s reputation of hard work, and he had fifteen years of experience under his belt.

  Deckland jumped down from the fence and greeted the other man with a handshake. “Long time no see, Tucker. Thanks for coming out here.”

  Tucker pushed his hat back on his forehead. “Hell, buddy, when I heard you were looking for help I couldn’t wait to talk to you. I see Brooke Creek has grown since I was here last. How’s it going?”

  “So far so good. I’m getting another shipment of Angus soon and I need someone who knows the ins and outs of breeding the cattle. Are you up for the job?”

  Tucker smiled and scratched his fine layer of beard. “Am I up for it? I was born to ranch, Deckland.”

  “I’ll expect you to take up the slack since my brothers and I are tied up in other business for the time being. As you know, supervising a ranch is hard, dirty work. Besides the cattle, you’ll be required to unload and stack hay, make sure the water reservoirs are always filled, mixing the feed with special oats for different breeds—”

  Tucker clapped him on the back. “Deck, you and I’ve known each other for a long time. If you doubted my capabilities and skill, you wouldn’t have wasted my time, or yours, and had me come all the way out here. Now, I understand you and your brothers have struck up a fine deal with McGraw and Taylor and you’re busy on the legal side of business these days. You can count on me holding up your end. I assure you.”

  Deckland gave a quick nod. Tucker was a clever man and dependable. There was a rumor floating around that he’d split up with his girl and hit bottom barrel, the reason why he’d sold his ranch and left Texas for a while. Deckland didn’t care about the gossip. As long as the man came to work and did his job, tongues could wag. “You know I’m real picky about the feed we give our livestock and horses. That’s probably why we get the best price for the beef. I’ll show you the mixtures. That’s real important.”

  “I’ll make sure you get the final check on everything.”

  “You bet. I trust you and that’s why I want you here, on this land, with my brothers and me. Take no offense with me keeping a close eye. Fair warning.”

  Tucker stared into the distance. “None taken. I know this is your life, and it means a lot to loosen up the reins and allow someone else to step in. You can count on the fact that I’ll run this place like a well-oiled machine. Just like I did with my own place.”

  Deckland leaned against the rail, looking at the mass of cattle again. When he’d decided he needed more help around the ranch, he’d felt a lot of guilt, but he knew he had to give up some responsibility to gear the ranch toward something better. He’d wanted to keep things the way his dad had done them, but it was time to move into modern times. Now that they’d started the feed business, he was being pulled in too many directions.

  Letting go of any remaining doubt, he heaved a sigh. “When can you start?”

  “Yesterday.” Tucker smiled.

  “That’s what I like to hear. How about coming tomorrow? We’ll get you started and you can meet the rest of the gang. Don’t know what your plans are for housing, but we have lodging quarters here and the extra space if you need it.”

  “I think I’ll take you up on that, Deckland. I like keeping my life simple. I’ll be honest, I can’t promise I’ll settle here forever, but I won’t leave you high and dry.”

  “Never know what you might find down the road. This is your hometown.”

  ****

  Elsa spread the ganache over the last cupcake, and the chocolate dripped across her hand. She brought her finger to her mouth and licked the sweet goodness. Pleased, she stepped back and admired her success.

  Movement in the doorway caught her attention. Deckland leaned against the door, watching her. His hat was low, shading his eyes. A slight smile curved one corner of his mouth, and a heat wave washed over her.

  She dropped her gaze over six foot something of tall, masculine, sexier-than-hell cowboy. His jeans fit his muscular thighs in a way that made the pads of her fingers ache for a touch. The top buttons of his shirt were open and she glimpsed smooth, broad chest—another part that deserved an exploration of hands and tongue.

  Giving her head a shake, she hoped to dislodge her naughty thoughts, but they continued to explode.

  In her defense, what woman wouldn’t like to lather his coiled body with butter—or even better—chocolate.

  “You okay?” His rich tone did funny things to the soft hairs on her neck.

  “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Not long.” He pushed away from the wood and sauntered closer, dragging his hat from his head. He laid it to the side. His eyes looked stark against his dark skin and he had a layer of beard lining his jaw, which made him seem tougher—dangerous.

  She had plans for him.

  “Since you’re here, can I use you?” She lifted a brow.

  His wicked smile made her squirm. “I like the sound of that.” He winked.

  He was teasing, she knew, but it didn’t change the fact that she wasn’t resistant. “Glad to hear.” She glanced over the massive amount of cupcakes and picked out one. “Do you like cake?”

  “Very much.” He rubbed his chin. S
he guessed his mind remained in the gutter.

  “Who can resist, right?” She came around the counter and lifted the treat. “Try please.” She held it while he took a bite. A spot of icing lingered on his bottom lip and, before she could think over her action, wiped it away with her thumb and licked the sweetness from her digit.

  What should have been an awkward moment instead seemed natural. She was comfortable around Deckland, drawn to him. This scared her considering her man-dar had never worked right. Separating real men from the wannabes wasn’t her strong suit, but this cowboy, he was the real thing.

  Too bad she didn’t have her head on straight.

  Could she see attraction in his eyes as he looked at her? Was she fooling herself?

  What made her think a man like Deckland would be interested in a woman like her? They’d shared a kiss, true, but he was as wonderful as a man could be. Women across the county pegged him as the bachelor of the year—the decade.

  She knew nothing about commitment, trust, family—all of the things that came second nature for him. Operating Elsa’s Fluff was the most commitment she had in her entire thirty-two years. And now, even that was gone.

  He leaned in and took the rest of the cupcake, his gaze holding hers in a honeyed embrace. His outdoorsy scent, combined with his closeness, turned everything deep inside of her as moist and rich as the cake she’d served him. There was just something intimate about feeding him, reminding her of lovers sharing.

  A twinkle lit his eye. Would he kiss her? She longed to ease into his arms, and realized the barrier was thinning.

  “Is that the cupcake for the wedding?” His words popped her back into reality.

  Clearing her throat, she hoped her voice worked. “Yes—uhh—I call it heaven.”

  “It most certainly is.” He kept his eyes linked with hers. Did he realize the mayhem he played with her emotions?

  She took a step into a safety zone, but the heat remained between them, hot enough to melt her panties. She ached for him, needed him but when everything she touched disappeared, she feared he would too. Forcing her mind back on track, she grabbed another flavor of cupcake. “Will you try another and compare the two? This one has a hint of orange flavor.”