Last Chance Cowboy

by Leigh Riker

  Jenna’s Realtor answered her knock with a broad smile. “Come in, look around. You’re going to love this place.”

  Jenna hesitated. Would she? Her first instinct, even after the brave self-talk she’d given herself, was to turn around and go back to her car, but the high-end model wouldn’t be hers much longer, either. David had leased it for her—but in his name. Maybe, after the settlement, she would buy a sporty BMW or, if that cost too much, a sedan that would truly be hers.

  Shadow squeezed her arm in support and they stepped into the apartment. Light and airy, Jenna noted. The window wall at the end of the living room looked out onto a pretty, leafy view and there was a working gas fireplace along another wall. As she wandered through the other rooms, her spirits rose.

  “Two bedrooms,” she said, exploring further. “I didn’t expect this much space.” Maybe she wouldn’t miss the four bedrooms she’d had to maintain in Shawnee Mission, two of which were now empty without Shadow and Ava there.

  “There’s another bath for guests,” Shadow pointed out. “The master has its own en suite plus the same view as you’d have from the living room. This developer does nice work.”

  The Realtor said, “He calls these apartment homes.”

  Would she feel at home here? There were two balconies, one off the main room and a smaller one for the master. She wouldn’t feel cramped, as she’d feared.

  Though small, the kitchen was well designed with stainless steel appliances. “I like this eat-in breakfast area by the windows. I’ll need a new table and chairs. Maybe something retro would be fun. There should be enough space for my dining room furniture—part of it, anyway—in that corner of the living room.” She pointed out a simple but pretty chandelier. She paused. “What about a pool?”

  “You have the complex pool here, complete with hot tub. Gym facilities, too,” the Realtor said.

  Shadow took her hand. “Really, Jenna, you won’t be giving up that much.”

  “Most people don’t use what they have in a large home,” the Realtor agreed. “You won’t be that far from good shopping and you can always go into Kansas City.”

  “I’ll be closer to Barren here,” she heard herself say when, for years, like Shadow, she’d wanted to be the farthest she could get from her hometown.

  Shadow said, “Closer to Mama, to me and Ava.”

  A good point. She didn’t want to lose touch with her niece.

  In the living room again, she lingered near the door. With a hand on the knob, ready to open it and leave, she stopped. Tons of ideas raced through her mind. She would make a home here to suit herself, and... “Shadow. Remember what you said about my ‘art’?”

  “You were wrong. You were very good.”

  “Yes. I think I was. And you were right. I did a great job of making our house a comfortable, cozy place.”

  “Without a doubt,” Shadow said, beginning to smile.

  “I’ll have to take some courses, maybe get licensed or certified—I don’t even know what I’d need yet—but I think I’ll make a good interior decorator.”

  Shadow hugged her. “I’d hoped you would make this decision. This is amazing, Jen.”

  “That’s not to say I won’t have times when I still feel down in the dumps or regretful about my marriage, but I’m not going to tumble down a hole and hide from what I might become.”

  The Realtor was smiling, too, and all three women high-fived each other. They walked through the apartment once more, the empty rooms echoing but filled with a promise she hadn’t expected to feel. Here, Jenna could work on restoring her relationships with her family. She could begin to restore herself.

  “Thanks, Shadow, for coming with me. Thanks for showing me this place,” she told the Realtor. “I’ll take it.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SHADOW LOOKED AROUND the family room at Wilson Cattle, making sure the guests all had drinks and food. The few changes she’d been able to make here in the past two weeks—bright throw pillows for the sofas, clean windows, a quick coat of fresh paint for the dining room, which she’d done with Grey one night—made the old ranch house sparkle.

  In the far corner of the room, Blossom stood with Nick and Logan, Logan’s arm around her. As they chatted with friends, she gazed up at him with love in her warm brown eyes. She had a definite glow, in part because of her baby-to-be. Finn was here, too, but he’d spent most of his time talking to Grey, the two of them in a huddle, their faces serious. They must be discussing his missing cattle and the ranch hand who’d betrayed him.

  In the archway to the dining room, Logan’s ranch hands, Tobias and Willy, stood shoulder to shoulder, eyeing the first course—a tandoori-style shrimp appetizer that was one of Jack’s new specialties. She and Grey had used his mother’s best china and sterling silver flatware at each place. Centerpieces of white daisies tucked among lavender hydrangeas and greenery were low enough not to prevent conversation across both tables. The dual arrangement worked out well.

  The evening promised to come off without a hitch—except for Shadow. She couldn’t seem to take pleasure in the coming dinner. Since their talk about Shadow’s first years with Ava, and then their kisses on the front porch, she’d felt unsettled. She and Grey had been polite, even comfortable, with each other, but as they’d finalized the plans and worked together on the house to prepare for tonight, neither of them had mentioned what would come next—for Ava or for them.

  Ava wasn’t here tonight. Jenna was staying with her.

  Shadow was just glad Derek hadn’t come.

  She glanced toward Grey, who was talking now with Dusty Malone, his foreman, and some other ranch hands. Grey looked even more handsome than usual in his white shirt, pressed jeans and best boots. For the occasion he’d added a gray herringbone blazer that highlighted his broad shoulders. For someone who’d said he knew little about events like this, he was doing just fine.

  Outdoors, Grey had smoothly dealt with the improvised parking lot, using several of his men as valets. Inside, there were candles everywhere, shimmering and glowing as softly, as romantically, as Blossom did in her flowing cream-colored pants and glitzy top. As she sent Blossom a smile, Shadow’s mother joined her, wearing a flattering new blue dress.

  “That shade suits you, Mama. You look pretty.”

  Jack was moving through the room in his white tunic and chef’s hat, carrying a tray of hot hors d’oeuvres. He turned to smile at her mother, then sidled over to them. “Mrs. Moran, may I suggest the stuffed mushroom caps?” he said smoothly, as if he served at such functions every day.

  Her mother took a bite, her eyes on Jack. “Delicious.” Shadow had never seen her eat a mushroom before. Mama reached next for a tiny quiche, then seemed to think better of it. “I’ll stop with one before your cooking turns into ten pounds I don’t need.”

  In front of everyone, including Shadow, Jack leaned down to kiss her cheek. “You are beautiful. To me,” he murmured, adding, “Mon petit choux.”

  She blushed. “When you speak French, I just melt.”

  Shadow gaped at their flirtatious exchange. Really? Jack just grinned. He hoisted the tray a bit higher. Shadow wanted to smile at the return of what she and Blossom termed his French phase. Her mother and Jack—or Jacques—Hancock?

  As soon as he moved on with his tray, Shadow said, “You’re seeing him, Mama? I mean, other than when you’re at Bertie’s?”

  Her mother’s expression was all but smug. “Jack likes me and I like him. We’re not that different in age,” she said. “A few years, is all. Bertie says I’m the best caregiver he could ask for,” she said with pride. “Since Jack’s working dinners at the café every night, I’ll be spending more time there.”

  “Mama, what is going on?”

  She ignored the question and continued. “Bertie even has room for my chickens.”
Her gaze followed Jack across the room. “At first Jack didn’t take to them, but Bertie swayed him to our side. Jack will have all the fresh eggs he could want, and he’s going to pay me for them. An added attraction, he said, for the menu at the café.” She grinned. “Locally sourced food is quite the thing now.”

  Shadow couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her mother smile like that. “Well.”

  “Jack says we can probably build a good henhouse.”

  Shadow blinked. For the first time in a long time her mother looked excited for the future, like Jenna, so maybe Jack was that man. She could never have predicted this match, but it worked.

  “Mama, I’m happy for you,” she said.

  Her mother waited until Jack went into the kitchen with his empty tray. She lowered her voice. “What did he mean when he called me that?”

  Shadow had taken one semester of French, but she thought she had this right. “Mon petit choux? He called you his little cabbage, I think. A Brussels sprout.”

  Her mother’s cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink. Clucking as if to chide Jack for teasing, which she clearly liked, she wandered off just as dinner was being served.

  After the shrimp dish, there would be Wilson Cattle filet mignon, grilled over an open mesquite fire. For those who didn’t prefer beef, there was chicken Marsala. Jack had surprised them with the menu, elegant enough for the rehearsal dinner, yet suitable for the simple ranching community gathered here. As her mother might say, “We don’t do fancy.”

  Her mother didn’t speak to Grey all evening, but she did manage to hide her animosity toward him. Several times Shadow caught her giving Grey an appraising look, as if she might see him in a different light, but with a stab of guilt, she realized she should be focusing on her own relationship with Grey, not her mother’s.

  At the end of the meal, Jack’s cool, smooth dessert stuck in her throat. Shadow excused herself to refill her water glass in the kitchen.

  Jack swept in, concerned. “Too much sugar in my blueberry panacotta?”

  She stood with her back to him at the sink. “No, something went down the wrong way. I’ll be fine.”

  “If I may say this, you don’t seem fine.” With a hand at her shoulder, he gently turned her around. “There’s pain in your eyes.”

  Her heart stalled. Was she that obvious? Could others see, too?

  “I am an observant person,” he continued. “In earlier times I worked in restaurants, yes, but I also tended bar, an environment in which people tend to bare their souls to a perfect stranger. Your mother is worried about you. Is it because of us? You do not approve?”

  “I do,” she said. “I wish you both well.”

  “If Bertie can come back from the rehab center to do well again at home with your mother’s care, if she can find happiness for what I think must be the first time in her life, then nothing is impossible.” Before Jack had finished speaking, the dining room door opened again.

  Grey said, “Your dinner was a hit, Jack. People want to thank you for an excellent meal.” His gaze shifted between them, a clear signal for Jack to leave the kitchen. When he did, resettling his chef’s hat as Grey often did his Stetson, Grey’s eyes locked onto hers. He briefly touched Shadow’s arm, sending a wave of warmth through her. “What was that?”

  She shrugged. “He’s smitten with my mother. An old-fashioned term, I know, yet it suits them.”

  Grey’s shoulders relaxed. “I doubt Tobias and Willy would agree, even after that magnificent dinner, but Jack’s a great guy. She’s a good woman, Shadow. If only she felt more inclined to like me.”

  Shadow didn’t want to talk about that. She didn’t want to think about tomorrow and the wedding, being surrounded by love and celebration and so many hopes for the future when she couldn’t begin to know where she and Grey would end up. Being here tonight, in his home, seemed to make that worse—as if she really could belong here, and they could be together again, this time forever. Yet everything was still up in the air.

  She looked away. Grey’s obvious pride that the dinner had gone so well made him all but glow like Blossom. “People are starting to leave. We should get back out there,” she said.

  Half an hour later only one car remained. Jack had been the first to arrive for the party because he’d been cooking; now he was the last to leave.

  “Good-night, Jack,” Shadow said, rising up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “The dinner—your food—was amazing. I wish Blossom had used you for the reception tomorrow.”

  “Mais oui.” Starting toward his car, he patted the check in his pocket that Grey had written. “Food is my passion.” He winked over his shoulder. “Blossom had hired another caterer before you thought of me. But I will enjoy sitting next to your mother tomorrow at the wedding. And I may be able to help here and there. Now I must get home.” Her mother had already left in her own car.

  “Thank you,” Shadow said, “for being so good to her.”

  “It is easy. And will continue to be.”

  With the house quiet, she and Grey cleared the last of the coffee cups and dessert plates then went out onto the back porch.

  “I missed Ava being here tonight,” he said.

  Shadow had told him about their mother-daughter conversation after Ava’s first visit to the ranch. Busy with Grey and the rehearsal dinner plans, though, they hadn’t found time for her to ride again. Or was Shadow avoiding that? “She would have liked seeing Nick, but Jenna offered to take her, and I wasn’t about to tell a room full of friends and neighbors that you’re her father. Would you have told everyone tonight?”

  “No,” he said. “This was Blossom and Logan’s night. They know,” he added. “Does anyone else?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.” Shadow thought of Derek and their encounter weeks ago at the farm. “My brother worries me, though. I wonder what he might do. He still thinks you killed Jared.”

  Shadow didn’t say that her mother did, too. She cleared her throat. She looked down at the strappy, heeled sandals she’d worn tonight. They were among her favorites, but she didn’t have many occasions to wear them. When she’d bought the shoes to add to her collection, a poignant thought had crossed her mind. I could wear these to my own wedding. The man she imagined at the altar was Grey.

  “We’re going to have to tell people that she’s our child,” she said. “It’s not fair to Ava, as if we’re trying to keep her hidden. Tonight wasn’t the right time, but after that—” She glanced up. “How are we going to manage this, Grey?”

  A short silence followed. He dug the toe of his boot into the dirt. He jammed his hands in the rear pockets of his dress pants then rocked on his heels. His gaze didn’t quite meet hers. “So. What if we...for Ava’s sake...what if we...try again? For that second chance?”

  Her pulse tripped.

  “It could be the perfect solution,” he insisted. “I have some stuff to clean up first, but Ava would have both of her parents. She wouldn’t be shuttled back and forth between us, always trying to please each side like I did. We’re the adults here, we’re responsible. You love her,” he said, “and though I’ve only known her a short time, so do I. How can we do less for her than give her the whole family she’s always wanted?” His gaze warmed. “We both know the spark’s still there, Shadow—for us, I mean. For me, it never even flickered.”

  “I care about you, Grey. But to...what would we do? Live together?”

  “More than that,” he said. “I want her to have my name. I want you to have my name.”

  Shadow stared at him. “Are you proposing?”

  “That’s how it sounds, yeah.” He moved closer to her.

  She’d never expected that. “I don’t know what to think—or say. If we do something so impulsive, what happens if it doesn’t work?”

  “We’ll make it work. And it�
�s not impulsive.”

  “I know how you feel about your parents, but that’s not reason enough to—”

  He quoted her words from weeks ago at the diner. “Hitch ourselves together like a team of oxen?” He was smiling. “Come on, Shadow.”

  “I’ve never thought of marrying.” That was a lie, but she went on. “For the last ten years I’ve devoted myself to Ava. We struggled, yes, but we did survive—in no small part because Jenna helped when I needed her most. That’s a debt I can never repay, but I fought hard for my independence. I can support us myself—”

  “That’s all material,” he said, “and I know this ranch isn’t exactly profitable right now, and that I haven’t proven anything about my involvement that night with Jared. But I’m talking about something more important.”

  He didn’t have to say the word love. She’d felt it in his kiss several times before. Unable to speak, Shadow framed his face in her hands. And like the night in Kansas City, Grey just kept looking into her eyes until she tilted her head, and he did too, and they angled their mouths, their lips meeting at last in a new whisper of a kiss.

  She let the kiss go on, and so did he, until it became more than the mere brush of their mouths, deepening, as if neither of them would end it. Nothing had changed between them in that regard. She still wanted Grey. But with the past hanging over them, could love be enough?

  Not wanting to leave the shelter of his arms, she drew away. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “I can’t afford to make another...mistake.” The wrong choice. “I don’t mean to hurt you, Grey, but I need to do the right thing for Ava. Every time.”

  Grey’s shoulders sagged. “I do, too. I get it, though. You mean because of Jared. But if I don’t ever learn what really happened, and you say no to my proposal, awkward as it was, you and I will have lost our last, best chance with each other. Ava will have lost something, too.”