Her Second Chance Hometown Groom

by Amelia C. Adams

  “Hey,” Becca said when she answered. “So, how’s it going so far?”

  Angela exhaled long and loud. “Um, let’s see. In order to get this interview, I have to go frog hunting with Austin Mayhew in the middle of a snowstorm, and my mother still thinks I’m a murderer. Oh, wait—I’m exaggerating. It won’t be in the middle of a snowstorm—we’re going to wait until it’s not snowing anymore.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “That bad and worse. I just don’t know if this is worth it. I mean, there’s a difference between working your way up the ladder and losing your self-respect—I want to be able to live with myself at the end of the day.”

  “I get that. You could always answer phones with me—sure, I sometimes get to listen to people yell, but at the end of the day, it’s not personal, and I get to leave all that behind me when my shift’s over.”

  “Yeah, I need something less personal. I’ve got personal coming out my ears right now.” Angela tucked one leg beneath her. “I should have brought you with me. That would have made this trip at least somewhat tolerable.”

  “You totally should have brought me. Of course, I have no vacation time saved up, and I couldn’t claim to be your assistant or anything because I’m completely useless, but yes, you should have brought me.”

  “You’re not completely useless. You could run interference between me and my mother. I’d pay you well for that.”

  “And I could also watch you interview Austin Mayhew.” Becca sighed dreamily. “How did he look today? Was he still as strong and handsome as ever?”

  “He looked pretty much the same,” Angela replied, shaking her head as she lied to herself. “You know you’re almost engaged, right?”

  “I know that, and I’m madly in love. I’m just also a very devoted, diligent, dedicated Austin Mayhew fan.”

  “Which I’m sure he appreciates.” Angela glanced at the clock. It wasn’t anywhere near time for bed yet—how was she supposed to keep herself occupied while she was here? She wasn’t about to go watch TV with her mother. “Got any good book recommendations? I’m dying of boredom.”

  Becca passed along a few titles, then said, “You can do this, Angela. You’re cut out of stiffer fabric than you think you are.”

  “That makes me sound uncomfortable . . .”

  “Well, it was supposed to make you feel empowered, so take it that way. And let me know how things go.”

  “I will. Thanks, Becca.”

  After Angela hung up, she opened her Kindle app and downloaded one of the books Becca had recommended, then changed into her pajamas. Her mother had made the bed up fresh just as she always did when she knew company was coming, and Angela appreciated the crisp, fresh sheets as she slid between them. She didn’t start reading immediately, though. Instead, she looked up at the ceiling and followed the crack with her eyes, the crack that had been there as long as she could remember.

  This room had only been through one makeover since she was little. Her earliest memories were of pink-and-white wallpaper with white painted furniture, but when she was thirteen, her father had caved to her repeated requests for something a little “cooler,” and he painted her room darker pink and lime green. She couldn’t tell if it looked more like a hippie explosion or the inside of a watermelon. At any rate, it made her smile, especially remembering the time she’d spent with her father taping off the baseboards and stirring the paint. Her mother had remained in the background, disapproving of the whole project.

  A lot of Angela’s memories were the same way—doing something with her father while her mother watched on disapprovingly. And that disapproval extended to her high school relationship with Austin Mayhew.

  They’d known each other their whole lives—it was impossible not to know everyone when you grew up in a town the size of Frogwater. She couldn’t pinpoint the moment their relationship changed, when they went from chasing each other around the playground to kissing on the dance floor at prom, but he’d most definitely been her first love. It was the most classic high school romance there could ever be—she was the cheerleader, he was the football player, they shared notes in science class, and everyone predicted they’d get married right out of high school and have a dozen darling babies.

  Except they didn’t.

  Elaine Dingle’s disapproval had been the dark shadow over all the time they spent together. Angela hadn’t been able to figure out why her mother disliked Austin so much. He wasn’t like a lot of the other guys in town with only one thing on their minds—he and Angela had never gone farther than kissing, and she’d never felt pressured to think about it. She was safe with him, and she knew it. She’d flat-out told her mother on her last day of high school that she was still a virgin, hoping that would ease some of her concerns, but it hadn’t seemed to make a difference, and Angela didn’t know what else to do.

  And then she and Austin went their separate ways, and that was Angela’s doing, not her mother’s.

  Someday she’d like to explain to Austin what happened. Someday. But not yet. She could only handle so much emotional upheaval at once.

  Austin stood in the barn, squinting up into the rafters. A bucket had been placed on the floor, making it easy to tell where the leak was landing, but it was a little harder to tell where it was coming from. He’d have to climb up there to find the exact spot.

  “What are you doing?” Maggie asked, coming up behind him.

  “Well, I was thinking about fixing this roof, but doing it from the inside. We got about two inches last night, and sure, there’s sunshine right now, but it’s supposed to snow again tonight, and it’s not safe for anyone to be climbing around on the roof until spring.”

  “If it’s not safe, I’m not going to make you. I was mostly teasing anyway—no one comes home for Christmas and wants to be put to work.”

  “Maybe I do.” He reached out to tousle her hair, but she sidestepped his hand.

  “Not the hair, brother. I’m not twelve anymore.”

  “Yeah, I know you’re not. Sure wish you were, though. I’ve heard you’ve got boys buzzing around like bees.”

  She let out an exasperated sigh. “In the first place, they’re not boys. They’re young men, because I’m a young woman. Second, there are a couple who stop by, but they’re hardly buzzing.”

  Austin grinned. “I stand corrected. Are either of these young men more special than the other one?”

  “No. Not in that way. I don’t want boyfriends and babies, Austin—you know what I want.” Her tone turned wistful. “But Dad would sooner hogtie me than let me into a rodeo ring.”

  “And the rest of us would help him. Why do you want to ride so much, Mags? A little thing like you would get squashed out there.”

  “That’s just it. People are always telling me how little I am, how cute or petite or pocket-sized. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel—like I’m some doll or child who has to be protected all the time?” She kicked at a clod of mud that had been tracked inside. “I’m small, yes, but I’ve got all these dreams packed down inside me, ready to come popping out. I don’t just want to raise rodeo horses—I want to compete on them.”

  “So, Chad’s cautionary tale wasn’t cautionary enough for you?”

  “What happened to Chad doesn’t happen to everyone. Trevor and Shawn have never gotten hurt.”

  “They have too.”

  “All right, they’ve gotten hurt, but not as badly as Chad. Sheesh, Austin. I thought I’d get some sympathy out of you—you’re out there living your dreams. You know what it’s like to want something more than what you have.”

  “I feel plenty sympathetic, but I’m not about to go against the code of the Mayhews on this one.”

  She groaned. “Not the code of the Mayhews.”

  “Yes, the code of the Mayhews. You know how we are, sis—we stick together, and this is too big for you to go breaking off on your own. Fact is, you are a very small woman. Fact is, those bulls are huge. Doesn’t take a lot of mat
h to realize that you’d get tossed around like a twig.”

  “What if . . . what if I did barrel riding?”

  “Not as dangerous, but that’s not what you really want, and you’d just be itching to keep pushing those boundaries.”

  She hooked her thumbs through her belt loops and looked toward the door of the barn. “You know me too well,” she muttered.

  “Listen.” He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. “We love you. We want you to be safe. That’s the only reason why we’re against this—we’re not trying to make you miserable or keep you locked away. There’s only one of you, Mags—we aren’t exactly crawling with sisters around here, and you’re not replaceable.”

  “Yeah, I know all that too. And I’ll try to be good, I promise. Especially with Dad . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  Austin took a step closer and pulled her in for a hug, resting his chin on top of her head. “Dad’s going to be all right, and the rest of us will be too. We’re going to pull through this as a family because that’s what we do, remember? And you’ll find a career you love, and you’ll forget all about riding, and someday you’ll come to me and tell me how right I was, and how much you appreciate my wisdom . . .”

  She leaned back and looked up at him. “It’s never going to happen.”

  “I know, but I can dream.” He let go and grinned. “Are you going to help me fix this roof or what?”

  “I don’t know. Fixing it from the inside sounds like a patch job, and patch jobs don’t last. Do it right, or don’t do it at all.”

  They both chuckled as she lowered her voice in imitation of their father.

  “I’ll leave it for now, but I’ll talk it over with Dad. I want to do something helpful while I’m here.”

  “Just you being here is helpful. It’s not the same when you’re gone.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Austin walked toward the door of the barn and looked out at the expanse of snow. He loved this Wyoming ranch so much, his chest hurt when he thought about it, but football . . . football filled up another part of him, and if he ever had to choose one or the other absolutely, it would rip him right down the middle.

  “What’s going on, Austin? You seem . . . I don’t know. A little down, maybe? Something wrong with the team?”

  “No, nothing’s wrong. We lost some of our mojo when Terry died, though, and I’ve been a little worried that we won’t get it back. Some magic formulas stop working when you take out one of the components, and he was one of the components that made us click.”

  “He was a good friend to you, wasn’t he?”

  “Yeah. He made it easier for me to leave all this and move to San Antonio. He mentored me through that whole transition—made sure I had everything from moving boxes to the name of a cleaning lady, took me out for dinner my first night in town, even. You don’t meet a lot of men like that who actually care about their business investments on a personal level.”

  Maggie tucked her arm through the crook of Austin’s elbow. “You’ll get the magic back. You’re Austin Mayhew—you sneeze magic.”

  “I do, huh?” He looked down at her and grinned. “Come on, tiny sister. Let’s go eat breakfast and find out what Dad wants to do about this roof. Enough of this sentimental blubbering. We’ve got work to do.”

  “Yes, sir. Work. Because work is good for us.”

  “That’s right. It’ll . . .”

  “Don’t say it,” she warned.

  “Don’t say what?”

  “It. The thing. The thing you guys always say.”

  “What? Oh, you mean, it’ll put hair on your chest?”

  “Yes!” She pulled away and shoved him. He jokingly took three steps to the side, even though her shove felt more like a gentle push.

  “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

  “Yes, you could. You chose not to,” she retorted.

  They teased each other all the way to the house, where they were greeted by the smells of frying bacon and pancakes. This. This was home. This was the place Austin dreamed about when times got tough and he needed to lift his spirits. He might be pursuing his career at the moment, loving every mad dash up and down that football field, but in the end, he would always come home because this was where his heart truly lived.

  Chapter 6

  “What time do you think you and Angela will be done today?” Melinda asked as she passed the eggs around the table. “I’d like to cut our Christmas tree before it gets dark.”

  Austin shrugged. “I hadn’t thought about a time, but how about three? I’m sure she’ll be regretting her decision to come out here by then.”

  “Are you trying to make her regret coming out here?” Todd asked with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. “That doesn’t sound like you, son.”

  “No, that’s not what I’m trying to do, but I still haven’t decided how I feel about this interview. Truth is, I only agreed to it because I made a pact with the guys on my team.”

  “What kind of pact?” Kyle asked. “Oh, is it one of those things where if you aren’t married by the time you’re thirty, you have to marry each other?”

  “Hush,” Melinda said good-naturedly. “Let your brother tell his own story.”

  “Well, we were talking about Terry and how he lived his life with no regrets, and we decided to take this Christmas break and fix one of the regrets from our pasts. Well, as much as we can,” he amended. “Some things aren’t fixable, but you can try to make the aftermath better.”

  “And your regret is Angela,” Maggie said.

  “Yeah. How we broke up . . . trying to figure out why we broke up . . . and then I also embarrassed her when we ran into each other at the charity party. I’d already decided that I needed to talk to her, and when she showed up here, it was like fate or something.”

  “Doesn’t matter how you spin it—this is a Hallmark movie,” Kyle said. “If the two of you go out frog hunting in matching hip waders and coordinating hat sets, I’ll throw up. I really will.”

  “No matching clothes—I promise,” Austin replied.

  “So, I don’t get it.” Todd set down his mug. “Your regret is Angela, but you want her to regret coming out here? How does that work?”

  “It doesn’t make sense, I know. I guess I feel a little . . . oh, used, maybe? She needs an interview, and she shows up and just expects me to give her one? It’ll advance her career, but what’s in it for me? Yes, I’m doing something nice for an old friend, but . . . she’s interrupting my time with my family, she’s interrupting my short break away from Texas, and I’m supposed to be happy about it?” Austin shrugged. “I don’t know, Dad. Should I be happy that I’m helping her out?”

  “We should always feel happy when we’re helping someone out, but helping isn’t always the right answer,” Todd replied. “Do you truly feel like she’s taking advantage of you?”

  “I don’t know. She told me straight up that her boss told her to manipulate me for a story and that she refused to do that, so I think she’s being as square with me as she knows how to be.”

  “I think it’s good that you’re working on past regrets,” Maggie said as she reached for the orange juice. “If you get those straightened out, you’ll probably figure out why you feel so weird about this interview.”

  “You think it has something to do with the past?” Austin asked.

  “Everything does! Don’t you ever watch talk shows?” She gave him an overly patient grin. “The way we react to everything in our lives stems from the way we perceived it as babies.”

  “That seems . . . kind of limiting,” Austin replied. “I don’t want my whole life dictated by the way I saw things as a baby. I was a baby. What did I know?”

  “Thank you,” Trevor said from the other end of the table. “We keep trying to point out the flaws in her logic, but she’ll have none of it.”

  “You’re trying to argue against world-famous therapists,” Maggie shot back. “You don’t have a degree in human behavior—you should be li
stening and not talking so much. You might learn something.”

  “Oh, it’s so nice having everyone home,” Melinda said dryly. “So, three o’clock, Austin, for the tree?”

  “Yeah. That should work.”

  She nodded. “Why don’t you invite Angela to come with us? That is, if you don’t wear her out too badly tromping around and looking for frozen frogs.”

  “Come on, Mom. You’re making his little excursion sound silly,” Shawn said. “There’s nothing silly about going frog hunting in the snow. On Christmas vacation. With a television sports reporter.”

  “Yeah, Mom,” Kyle chimed in. “Way to make his perfectly harmless date sound silly.”

  Melinda ignored them. “And then once we get the tree, we need to make plans for Christmas. I was thinking we’d do the whole thing on the twenty-first, which would give you time to recover from your turkey hangover before the game.”

  “That’s a good idea, Mom,” Austin said. “Nothing worse than trying to run the field with a full stomach.”

  “So, today’s the seventeenth.” Maggie glanced at the calendar on the wall. “Five days, Mom. Can you do it?”

  Melinda Mayhew took Christmas very seriously. She covered every surface with pine boughs and red ribbons and ceramic Santas and stuffed reindeer. She had a dozen nativity sets and two dozen cookie cutters. It always took her days to decorate, but she didn’t want to do it alone—she wanted her family’s help, and that’s why she’d waited until Austin got home before she started. Now he could see the conflict on her face.

  “I guess I was hoping for more time,” she said at last. “That maybe somehow there would be a Christmas miracle and he could stay longer.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. My schedule’s set—I can’t change it.”

  “Well, we’ll just scale back a little bit. We don’t have to put the giant candy canes along the road, and we don’t have to hang the garlands on the porch. I’m willing to compromise.” She gave a watery smile.

  “Good for you, Mom,” Maggie said. “What if we start with the most important stuff and work outwards from there? The tree’s the most important thing, right?”