“Come on, big girl. It’s not that complicated. You either suck it or ride it.”
Her mouth fell open at his vulgarity, but all he did was stare back at her, a cruel taunt in his eyes. Tears burned behind Kenzie’s as she looked at the man she’d loved for eight years, the man she’d saved herself for, and realized how cruel he was. She’d offered him a very special gift, and in return he’d teased her for his sick amusement.
She took a deep breath and tightened her hands into fists, willing herself not to cry. “I’ll get your last paycheck. You get dressed and get out of my house.”
Her head felt light as she entered the den and picked up the check her father had left on his desk. The scene replayed in her mind, making her throat burn even more. By the time she returned to the kitchen, her cheeks were wet. Chance stood by the table, fastening his belt.
“Here.” Kenzie flung the check she’d crumpled in her hand at him, and he grabbed it before it could fall to the floor. She picked up his Stetson and shoved it against his chest. “That’s your last paycheck. Now go.”
He took his hat and turned for the door. Kenzie followed, her heart steadily cracking as they neared it. Even with her face heated with embarrassment, a part of her still wanted him to stay, to prove she hadn’t been wrong about him.
Chance didn’t say anything until he stepped onto the porch. Then he turned and looked at her with a soft gaze that hinted of apology, but the words weren’t spoken.
“Tell your dad I enjoyed working for him.” He placed the Stetson on his head and held Kenzie’s gaze for a brief moment. “I won’t be coming back.”
She watched him drive away, dirt kicking up in his wake, before closing the door. It not only closed on him, but on the dreams she’d had of them together. The door slammed shut on all her hopes and fantasies, and left her with a void deep inside. All she’d ever wanted was to grow up to become Mrs. Chance Masters.
Tears flowed freely as she ran to her bedroom and removed the shoebox from beneath her bed. Inside she found the pictures she’d taken of Chance over the years, and one by one she ripped them apart, watching the shards fall to the floor, just like her dreams.
Chapter Two
Chance opened the door to Hell’s Belle and stepped inside the bar’s darkened interior. Like most drinking establishments, it didn’t start getting crowded until sundown, but opened early for those who needed a jumpstart on drinking away their troubles. He’d spent a lot of time within its walls a decade earlier when he’d been a resident of Cook County, Colorado.
“Well, I’ll be damned. The sexiest Masters done returned home,” a gray-streaked brunette around her late fifties announced loudly from behind the counter. She poured whiskey into a shot glass. “And it only took him ten years. Come ‘ere, hot stuff, and let me get a good ogle at ya.”
Chance squinted as he neared, and recognized the bartender. “Rhoda?” He tried not to let his surprise slip through in his voice.
“Yep. I know, I put on some weight.” She cupped the ample breasts that were currently straining against a tight red T-shirt. “Most of it’s still in the right places, though. Wanna looksie?”
Chance grinned at the older woman’s antics, seeing some things still hadn’t changed. “You know my rules, Rho.”
“Yeah, I know. You don’t do women old enough to be your mama or young enough to be your kid.” She shook her head as she checked him over. “Damn shame. Speaking of which, does your stuff still work after the accident?”
“I was gored in the abdomen, Rho. I might not ever ride a bull again, but I can still ride.”
Her rouge-stained mouth split into a toothy smile. “I just bet you can.”
Done with the chit-chat, Chance glanced around the bar, noting a few older men who seemed to be pondering deep thoughts over their drinks. None were tall, rangy blondes. “My brother said he’d be here. Have you seen Lucky?”
Rhoda’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Saw him go back toward the pool room. Probably passed out on one of my tables again.”
“I did no such thing,” a gruff drawl called out from down the hall. Lucky stepped into view. He swayed a little as he walked, and his blue and black western style shirt was half-in and half-out of his jeans. “Can’t a man take a piss?” he asked indignantly as he made his way over to a small table along the far wall where his battered Stetson rested. He plopped down into a chair. “And for your information, Rho, the sexiest Masters has been right here for the past ten years.”
“I’ll believe that when you let me see it,” the horny woman muttered. She leaned toward Chance and whispered, “See if you can’t get his keys. He’s learned all my tricks.”
“Why didn’t you quit serving him?” Chance asked, irritated that Rhoda would let his brother get so drunk before sundown in an almost empty bar. Hell, what did she allow at night when the bar was packed and the drinks were flowing?
“Honey, before you start blaming me for your brother, check his pockets.” She scowled in Lucky’s direction. “I’m sure he came in with a drink or two on him.”
Chance let out a frustrated sigh as he crossed the bar to reach his brother. He noticed the jacket hanging over the back of the younger man’s chair. It definitely wasn’t cool enough for a jacket at the moment and, having worn that old jacket a time or two himself in the past, he knew the thing contained enough inner pockets for a flask or two.
This wasn’t the homecoming he’d expected. From his mother, maybe, had she still been alive, but not from his little brother.
“Hey, Luck,” he murmured as he took the seat across from him, and wrinkled his nose at the pungent smell that greeted him. “Damn, man, did you bathe in beer?”
“That’s all you got to say after finally dragging your ass home?” Lucky snorted. “Glad to know we were missed.”
“It’s not like I haven’t seen you,” he reminded him. “We’ve been competing in the same rodeos for the past ten years.”
“Some of them.” Lucky picked up the empty bottle on the table and turned it in his hand. “Would have been nice to have seen you on the holidays.”
“Yeah.”
There wasn’t much Chance could say to that. He’d spent the past ten Christmases alone, holed up in some motel somewhere drinking himself through the event rather than allow himself a clear enough mind to think. If he thought, he’d wonder about Mackenzie Calhoun, and what she was doing. Worse, he’d wonder who she was doing it with.
He closed his eyes and pushed her image out of his mind, or as far as it would go anyway. It never completely left him. Neither did the shame he felt whenever he allowed himself to recall their last encounter.
“I’m here now,” he finally said.
“Yeah, until we get Mom put in the ground. Then you’ll be out of here lightning fast before you run into that girl who chased you away in the first place.”
Chance glared at his brother. “No one chased me off.”
“Yeah, right.” Lucky laughed. “The whole damn town knew that girl thought you pissed gold. You went over there to pick up a check and ran like hell out of town right after, never to come back.”
“We’ve had this discussion.”
“And we’re going to keep having it for as many more decades as it takes for you to tell me what the hell happened.” Lucky leaned back in his seat and stretched out his legs before letting out a sour smelling belch. “So, what happened over there that day?”
Chance closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wishing for just once his brother would lay off the questions. How could he explain himself? Kenzie had wiggled her ass under his nose for three years straight before pulling that stunt on him in the kitchen. He’d known from the moment she opened the door in that tight top and little, panty-sized shorts that she was up to no good. He shouldn’t have crossed the threshold, but he had. And regretted it ever since.
He was only a man. He’d managed not to take advantage of the girl in all the years she’d all but begged him to. He couldn�
�t count how many cold showers he’d taken during those summers at her father’s ranch. It was no coincidence she liked to sunbathe at times that coincided perfectly with his work schedule, nor was it coincidence how many times she “accidentally” rubbed up against him while her daddy wasn’t looking. What else could he have done after she’d turned eighteen, gave him the green light, and threw herself at him so blatantly? He wasn’t made of steel.
Then he’d been hit with the mother of all bad ideas. All he’d intended to do was teach her a lesson about what happened to naïve little girls who acted grown beyond their years, and at the same time, anger her enough to get himself kicked out the door before he could do something unforgiveable—like take her virginity, shattering her sweet innocence. He’d expected the anger, and definitely the embarrassment, thinking she’d get over it with time, but the pain he’d seen in her eyes would haunt him until the day he died. He’d hurt her deeply, shattered a young girl’s dream. It had seemed the best thing to do at the moment, but if he could have that short moment in time back…hell, he didn’t know what he could have done at that point without walking out feeling like a louse. He should have never walked in, period.
“One of these days I’m going to get the story,” Lucky declared, pulling him back from memory lane. “It’s just going to take the right combination of liquor and questions.”
“Yeah, you’ve tried that more than once a few of the times we’ve met up on the circuit.”
“True,” Lucky conceded. “I could try a new tactic though and seduce the goods out of Kenzie.”
“Try it and I’ll rip your ass apart.” The threat slipped out before Chance could stop himself.
Lucky laughed. “Yeah, man. She was just some silly girl with a crush. Didn’t care about her at all, now did ya?”
“Sarcasm is ugly on you,” Chance growled.
“Yeah, but with these dimples, I can still pull it off.”
“I’m tired. You’re drunk. Let’s go.” Chance shook his head. He’d driven for eight hours straight and couldn’t take much more of his brother’s drunken wit before snapping.
“Where? I’m surprised you could even remember where Hell’s Belle was.” Lucky’s mouth spread into a sloppy grin. “Then again, you did spend a lot of time in here drinking Kenzie off your mind.”
“Cram it up your ass, Luck.” He looked toward the heavens for divine assistance as his brother erupted into a fit of laughter. “Come on. Don’t we have to speak to someone at the cemetery or something?”
Lucky’s eyes drifted closed as his head lulled forward, then quickly snapped back up. Eyes wide open, he reached across the table and grabbed Chance’s forearm. “Seriously, bro, all shit aside…you should help her.”
Chance removed his brother’s hand from his arm, repulsed by the clamminess of it. “Mom’s dead, Luck. We tried to help her all we could. Now all we can do is bury her.”
“Not her...”
Lucky waved a hand dismissively in a drunken arc, and if not for the current bender indicating otherwise, Chance would think his brother didn’t care that their mother had just died.
“Kenzie. You should help her,” he finally finished.
“Help her what?” He prayed he wasn’t going to regret asking the question.
“She’s going to lose the whole damn ranch, man. Her daddy died and it’s all gone to—”
“Mark Calhoun died?” Chance cut off his brother’s rambling, which was growing more slurred by the minute. “When?”
“Like two years ago, or five.” Lucky’s brow furrowed as he scratched his head. “One of those numbers. You ever notice how a five looks like a two that just fell on its ass and rolled?” His frown deepened. “Or would it have spun?”
Chance expelled a breath and prayed for patience. “You never thought to tell me in all the times I’ve seen you within the last five years?”
“Two years!” Lucky slapped his palm against the table before pointing at Chance. “Because if I’d seen you in the last two years I would have mentioned it. There. Cleared that up. He died within the last two years.”
“We’ve spoken on the phone within the last two years,” Chance reminded him.
“Oh, well, obviously I just suck.” He chuckled. “Mr. Calhoun had a heart attack—” Lucky paused with a frown. “Why are we talking about him anyway?”
Oh, for Pete’s sake. “You said Kenzie needed help.”
“Oh, that’s right. Her daddy died and…” Lucky’s head swayed back, his mouth hung open.
“Hey, focus.” Chance kicked his younger brother’s shin and received a much harder kick back. “Ouch, you son of a—”
“Oh crap, I’m sorry, man.” Lucky’s eyes grew round, his voice panicked. “I forgot you’re a cripple now.”
“I’m not a cripple,” Chance growled as he rubbed his shin. “I got gored in the abdomen; I didn’t lose a limb, and the proper term is disabled, anyway.”
“Yeah, that’s right.” Lucky raised his bottle to his lips, realized it was empty, and returned it to the table. “Now, if you’d been gored in the jewels you’d be a cripple. There’s no politically correct word for losing your balls.” He started laughing at the thought.
“That’s it.” Chance stood and hauled his brother up by the elbow. “I’m driving you home so you can sleep this off. I’ll work out the details of Mom’s burial myself.” Hell, he was used to being the family caretaker.
“Wait a minute.” Lucky yanked his arm back and nearly fell, but righted himself in time. “You gotta help Kenzie. She’s….” Lucky’s eyes started to glaze over as his voice trailed off.
“Oh for chrissakes, just spit it out!”
Lucky bent at the waist as vomit exploded from his mouth. Chance jumped back, but not quick enough to avoid getting the sour-smelling gunk all over his boots. “Dammit to hell, Luck!” he snapped as the drunken man fell back into the chair. “Damn it to fucking hell!”
“Well, you told him to spit it out,” Rhoda reminded him from behind the counter. She burst out laughing, joined in by the few other men in the bar. “Mop’s in the supply closet.” She turned to take care of a man who’d just stepped up to the bar, but paused. “Oh, and in case I forgot to say it, welcome home.”
Yeah, he thought as he grabbed a handful of napkins to wipe off his boots. Home sweet screwed-up home. He couldn’t wait to leave it again.
Chapter Three
Something wet and sloppy rolled over Kenzie’s cheek. The smell of hot doggy breath greeted her as she opened her eyes to find herself face to face with her lab mix, Daisy.
“Get down.”
She wiped the slurp off her face with an edge of the bed sheet and attempted to roll over, back into slumber, but Daisy started barking loudly, determined to get her up.
“Dang nabbit, dog, it’s…” She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. “I’ve got twenty minutes left to sleep. Why are you bothering me?” She received another round of barks in response.
Giving up on the precious extra minutes of much needed rest, Kenzie turned off the alarm clock then swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
Daisy’s teeth promptly snagged the hem of her T-shirt and started tugging.
“What in the world?” She frowned, knowing this wasn’t usual behavior for her normally docile dog. Warning bells rang out in her mind as the dog steadily tugged on her shirt, trying to get her off the bed and moving toward the door.
Kenzie quickly sprang into action, jumping off the bed to retrieve a pair of jeans from the dresser and yanked them on quickly. “What is it, girl? Is it one of the animals?”
Daisy kept barking, the yelps sharp and frantic as she ran back and forth between her and the door.
“Okay, sweetie. I’m coming.”
Kenzie followed the dog down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she quickly tugged on her old busted-up boots. Realizing she didn’t know whether Daisy’s concern was due to an animal or an intruder, she ran into the den and snagged her daddy’
s baseball bat before leaving the house.
The first thing she noticed as she stepped onto the porch was the open barn door. Knowing perfectly well she’d closed it the night before, fear slithered along her spine.
She stepped down from the porch and surveyed the rest of the property. A big black Ford F-150 she’d never seen before was parked next to her blue Ranger.
“You’re a dog,” she reminded Daisy as she crept toward the barn. “You’re supposed to attack intruders.”
Daisy hung her head and whined, but made no effort to run into the barn and attack. Nope, her mighty guard dog was content to walk behind her and let her step into the danger zone. “Worthless mongrel,” Kenzie muttered.
She eased up to the barn and peered inside while hiding behind the door. Nothing. Hershey, Tulip, and Suede, her quarter horses, neighed a morning greeting as she cautiously stepped inside and let her gaze rove over the barn’s interior, making sure to check the rafters as well. Nothing seemed out of place.
Daisy’s bark alerted her to the stranger’s presence a second before she heard the scuffling sound of footsteps behind her. Startled, she swung before thinking, turning in an arc along with the bat. A tall, dark shadow she couldn’t clearly make out ducked the blow and grabbed her around the waist, turning her in solid arms until her back was against a hard chest, and the bat somehow ended up in her assailant’s free hand.
“Damn, woman. What the hell?”
She managed a gasp before her heart wedged itself into her throat. She knew that deep voice despite trying to erase it from her memory for the past decade. “Chance?”
“Good morning.” He let her go and stepped around to face her.
With the morning sun streaming through the open barn door, she could now make out his features. He was as handsome as she’d remembered, time having treated him kindly. Dressed in a white button-down western style shirt and jeans, his trademark boots and black Stetson were in place, the latter casting a shadow over the top half of his face. Still, she saw the midnight blue eyes, which haunted her dreams, staring back at her. His wide, beg-to-be-kissed lips turned up at the corners.
Cook County Cowboys Page 2