Last Second Chance (A Thomas Family Novel Book 2)

by Kristi Cramer

  The forthright apology took Kenny aback long enough for Tim to push past him and head for the door.

  “Hey,” Kenny said, reaching out to grab him by the arm and swing him around. “I don’t like you. You act like you’re better than us, better than me. Stronger, tougher, smarter. That’s bull, like the way you smell, stable boy.”

  Every muscle in his body tensed, and Tim took a step toward Kenny, satisfied to see him flinch. “No, I don’t act like that. Apparently, that’s how you see me. I’ve faced down guys twice your size and had the crap beat out of me, but not without leaving a mark of my own. Now, you wanna try me out?”

  He paused a beat, watching Kenny’s mouth work as he tried to think of a comeback. He was ready if the fool tried anything, and tried not to let his desire to stay out of a fight show in his stance or expression. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. Look, I have done some boneheaded things in my day, and I’ve learned from them. Getting into a fight with a co-worker isn’t high on my to-do list, okay?”

  Without waiting for a response, he turned and entered the bar, leaving Kenny and the others scratching their heads, wondering what had just happened. He had managed to avoid insulting Kenny, yet still implied that he could win if it came to blows. It was a delaying tactic, at best. He had a feeling that, sooner or later, the cowboy was going to push things too far and actually start a fight. If that happened, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to take a beating without handing out one of his own, and he hoped Mitzi would believe he had done everything he could to avoid it.

  The inside of the Wild Horse Saloon was both familiar and strange to Tim. Just like every other bar he’d been in, it smelled of stale beer, greasy fries, cigarette smoke, and various aftershaves and perfumes. Even the décor was similar to some of the cowboy bars in Denver. But the atmosphere of the place felt authentic. There weren’t many people inside, since it was still early, but two old-timers sitting at the bar actually wore spurs. Instead of Taylor Swift or Luke Bryan, some twangy country and western music played over the speakers, and the group of farmers who had pulled two tables together looked like they hadn’t even been home to clean up after their workday. They were already at the serious business of drinking before it was time to head home.

  Kenny, Ray, Rick, and Pete had pushed past him on their way to the bar when Tim spotted Janie sitting at the other end, looking cute in her nice shirt and cowboy hat. She usually wore work jeans and a smock or button-down work shirt. He was surprised to see her alone, as hot as she looked, until he caught the expression on her face. She looked troubled. And was that mascara running down her cheek? The other hands from the Lazy J hadn’t spotted her yet, and he debated whether to draw attention to her by going to say hello. But before he could decide either way, she saw him and waved him over.

  “Hey,” she said as he walked up, slipping off her barstool to give him a quick hug, which he reflexively returned. “Just putting on a show for the guys,” she whispered in his ear, then hopped back up on her stool. “I guess I dressed up too nice because it’s giving some people ideas that I’m on the prowl or something.” Her laugh was a shadow of her usual humor as she gestured toward the bar where two younger cowboys sat.

  “Well, you do look beautiful,” he said, “except your mascara is smudged a bit.” He allowed himself to cup her jaw with his hand as he ran his thumb gently over the smudge. Of course, he couldn’t wipe it clean without adding pressure, so he let his hand drop.

  “Is it? Oh dear. I don’t usually wear the stuff. Let me run to the ladies’ room and I’ll fix it, then maybe we can sit at a table,” she said. “Okay?”

  “Sure.” She got up just as the bartender walked up. “Can I get an ice water?” he asked.

  The bartender raised a brow. “You driving or something?”

  “No, sir. I just don’t drink.”

  The bartender nodded and filled a glass with ice before drawing up the water for him. When he handed the glass over, Tim took it. The man behind the bar held onto it a moment longer than necessary, then he leaned forward. “I don’t know you, son,” he said, his voice barely carrying over the music, “but I have known Janie all her life.”

  He leaned back. The rest of that sentiment could have been a hundred different things, but they would all boil down to one: Treat her right, or it’s your ass.

  “Understood, sir,” Tim said, and he could swear he saw an appreciative glint in the older man’s eye. Tim decided to introduce himself, holding out his hand. “I’m Tim Reardon. I work at the Lazy J with her brother.”

  “Oh, yeah. You’re the one who’s been working with her on that horse with the injury. And you’re Deputy Thomas’ brother.”

  Tim nodded, a little confused as to why the bartender would have heard of him.

  “Clarence Hawkes. I’m Deke’s brother,” he said as he shook Tim’s hand. “He’s had nothing but good things to say about you.”

  Tim wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I try,” he said at last.

  Clarence nodded his head. “You’ll do,” he said with a smile.

  Janie came back and motioned to a table.

  “Nice to meet you, Clarence,” he said, then took his glass and followed her. As he turned, he saw Kenny and Rick watching their progress across the room. He hoped they would keep to themselves.

  Janie led him to a table as far away from any of the occupied tables as they could get, and he sat across from her. She took her hat off and tucked her hair behind her ears, and set it on the table between them.

  “Nice hat,” he said. It looked like it was made of dark brown straw, the brim turned up on the sides, somewhat obscuring the hatband...a leather strap with silver and turquoise buttons braided into it.

  “You like it?” she asked. “How come you don’t wear a hat?”

  He shrugged. “I’m a city slicker, remember? We don’t do hats.”

  She chuckled. “Try it on,” she said, offering it to him. “You realize how shameful it would be for me to be seen in public with a man who didn’t wear a hat, don’t you?”

  “Seriously?” It made him happy when she smiled at him, so he took the hat and set it on his head. “Well?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Janie took her time studying how Tim looked in her hat. She reached up and pulled the brim down a bit so it sat lower on his brow, then she nodded. “It’ll do,” she told him, although what she really wanted to say was that it was sexy. Very sexy.

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he leaned toward her. She closed the distance between them, trying to still the flutter in her heart.

  “You okay?” he asked quietly, his voice barely reaching her over the sound of the music.

  Her breath caught in her throat, like it had when he mentioned her smudged mascara. She tried to smile but felt her lip trembling, so she bit it instead. “Not really,” she admitted. “I just found out that something I believed for eighteen years was not what I thought it was. It...kinda rocked my world, and I’m still reeling.”

  She wasn’t sure how much he could hear, so she leaned closer. “You know I have a daughter, right? Well, her father is back in town, and he explained why he left.” Tim met her gaze, his dark eyes reflecting the turmoil she still felt. “All these years, I thought he just didn’t want the responsibility and ran scared,” she confessed. “I went through hell raising Kylie on my own, and I hated him for that. Not for Kylie, but for the pain of being a single mom in this small town, you know?”

  She took another deep breath, looking for some sign of judgment in Tim’s eyes, but she only saw compassion there. That made it easier to continue.

  “Today, he told me he’d been scared, but only because, well...because I was only sixteen when I got pregnant. He was nineteen.” Tim sat back when she said that, but only for a moment. He leaned forward again, reaching across the table to touch her hand. “His parents basically forced him to leave rather than acknowledge an illegitimate child, and people told him he was going to go to jail. He’s as
king for my forgiveness now, but I’m torn. I mean, he still left me, you know? I still went through all that pain on my own, but he suffered, too.” She sighed and shook her head. “I just don’t know what I feel....”

  “Wow. That’s...rough. I couldn’t imagine.” He turned his hand so he could squeeze hers, but she could tell he didn’t know what else to say. After a moment, he asked, “Do you think he wants to get back with you?” The look on his face might have made her laugh if she didn’t understand the feeling behind it.

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said, resolutely. “There’s too much water under that bridge. Not when.... I’m not even sure I could just be friends with him.”

  Tim’s expression looked like relief mixed with a kind of hope, but before either of them could say anything, the barmaid appeared with a tray holding two shot glasses of an amber liquid, a saltshaker, and two lime slices.

  “What’s this, Loretta?” Janie asked. “I didn’t order this.”

  Loretta gestured over her shoulder. “From Kenny,” she said. “He said you two looked like you could use some tequila.”

  “Well, that was thoughtful,” she said. “Tell him we said thanks, okay?”

  “Sure thing, hon,” Loretta said, walking back to the bar.

  Tim looked over his shoulder at the other hands from the ranch, and when he turned back, Janie saw a deep frown on his lips, giving him that oh-so-sexy brooding look.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Don’t you like tequila?”

  “I don’t drink,” he said, and she remembered him telling Trip that.

  “Oh, well, do you mind if I take both?” When Tim shook his head, she reached for the saltshaker. Feeling a little self-conscious, she gave a quick lick on the skin between her thumb and forefinger, then shook some salt onto the wet spot. She lifted one of the shots toward Kenny in thanks, then exhaled, licked the salt, and poured the shot into her mouth.

  Janie felt the bite of the Patrón as it slid down her throat. She gasped and reached for the slice of lime, biting down to get the desired blend of flavor. “Mmmm,” she said as she sucked on the lime. “That hits the spot.”

  She reached for the second shot and repeated the process with very little fanfare, pretending not to notice Tim watching her with a sardonic twist to his lips. Those sexy, scrumptious lips.

  “Sure you don’t want some?” she asked, slightly concerned she was already slurring her words. It had been too long since she’d shot tequila, not to mention the beer she’d had while waiting for Tim. There was also the fact she’d barely eaten at dinner. It didn’t matter, though. She caught Loretta’s attention and lifted two fingers to signal she wanted two more.

  “No, I’m fine,” he said, watching as two more shots arrived.

  She shrugged and slammed them, one after the other, suddenly not caring that she was pounding back hard liquor on an empty stomach. For the first time since dinner, she didn’t feel confused, hurt, or angry.

  “I really do need to get back to the ranch, though,” Tim said at length.

  “What?!” she exclaimed, trying to pat his forearm but missing her mark. Her hand slapped against the table, and she giggled. “You got a curfew or something? It’s Saturday night! Even the Lazy J lets you sleep in on Sunday!”

  “Actually, I do have a curfew...,” he started, but that made her laugh more.

  “You need to have more fun.” She caught sight of a poster over his shoulder, and inspiration struck. “Do you know that John Hiatt is going to play at the county fair in a few days? You should come see him with me. I love John Hiatt.”

  “I don’t know who he is....”

  “No! I can’t believe that. Wait. Gimme a quarter.”

  When Tim just smiled indulgently, she patted at her pockets, finding a nickel, three quarters, and a lump of lint in her front pocket. She held up the quarters triumphantly, then turned and made her way to the jukebox. Somebody kept pushing empty chairs into her path, and she glared around her as she bumped into yet another one, but couldn’t see who the culprit was.

  At last, she stood in front of the jukebox. Squinting at the little labels, she looked for her favorite song. Ah! There it was. D13. “When You Hold Me Tight.” She put two quarters in the slot and carefully punched the numbers, then turned and waved Tim over to join her on the dance floor. She waved with more vigor when he hesitated. “Come on!” She laughed. “You’re going to like this song.”

  ⋘⋆⋙

  Reluctantly, Tim made his way over to the dance floor, but it was more because of the way Kenny and the men at the bar eyed Janie with interest, rather than an urge to dance. He felt the need to protect Janie from herself. He thought he understood her abrupt switch to the pain-deadening effects of tequila—she’d had quite a shock tonight—but he found the timing questionable, and Kenny’s motive in sending the first tray over was definitely suspect.

  As the canned music faded and the jukebox started up—a raspy guitar and a funky bass riff punctuated by the singer’s growling voice—Janie threw her hands up and closed her eyes, moving her body with a sinuous grace Tim hadn’t seen in her before.

  As he approached, she turned to look at him through heavy-lidded eyes, giving him a secretive little smile.

  “I always thought this would be a sexy song for a stripper to dance to,” she confided in a voice that, judging by the way several more heads turned in their direction, Tim was certain carried over the music. She wasn’t grinding an imaginary pole or anything, but there was a kind of sweet sexiness to her movements that stirred desire in his belly.

  “Janie...,” he began, but she sauntered over to him, leaning back slightly and reaching out to run her hand up his arm. He was dimly aware of the singer crooning about cigarettes in bed, and he had to acknowledge that she was right. But instead of a stripper, he would rather see Janie dancing for him—in private.

  “You’re sweet, you know that?” she said, bringing her other hand up to caress his other arm. “You act tough around the guys, but you can’t hide that you’re a softie.”

  “No, I’m not,” he said, reaching up to take her hands. She had hold of his shoulders now, and didn’t let go when he tugged gently. “I’m really not. I’m a fool and a fighter and a complete loser.”

  “I don’t believe that. You....” To punctuate the word, she pulled herself against him until her face was inches from his, her body pressed against him, hips still swaying provocatively. “You need to believe in yourself.”

  It was torture. Desire prompted him to lean his forehead against hers, knocking her hat back on his head a bit. It was all he could do not to press himself against her, mold his body to hers. At the same time, Tim wanted to look away, lean away from her, retreat to safer ground.

  From the corner of his eye, he could see the bartender shaking his head, and Kenny standing up from his seat at the bar. Tim knew trouble when he saw it, and this was shaping up to be big trouble.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he told her.

  “You wanna take me home?” she said playfully, running a finger along his jaw.

  “Sure,” he said. Anything to get her to go quietly. “I’ll drive.”

  “Pfft. I’m fine,” she said. If it hadn’t been patently obvious she wasn’t before this, he noted that she couldn’t keep her eyes fully open, and she was still trying to dance as he steered her toward the door.

  He got her out the door before Kenny could close in on them, and tried to quickly herd her toward her truck.

  “Slow down,” she complained. “I mean, I know if you want me as much as I want you right now, that’s why you’re hurrying, but we don’t have to wait. We can make out right in the back of my truck.” She pulled to a stop at the bed of her truck and tried to climb in the back.

  Turning from looking over his shoulder to see her off balance and about to fall, Tim caught her and set her back on the ground. Her arms fell across his shoulders and held him so he couldn’t step away from her.

  It felt so good t
o hold her. He found his left hand sliding up her back and shoulder to drive his fingers into her hair, slowly closing them into a fist as he fought the urge to claim her lips. He gazed into her light green eyes and lost himself in the passion he saw there.

  Time slowed, and his heart thudded in his chest as he held her gaze. Without realizing he had moved his right hand, he found his thumb caressing her lower lip, heard the sharp intake of her breath as she leaned toward him.

  He drew a deep breath, finally shaking his head. “I don’t want this to be a mistake.”

  He watched her eyes flash with sudden anger as she pulled away from him. He realized that was probably not the best thing to say.

  “A mistake? You think I’m a mistake, huh? Well, screw...you.”

  Tim realized it was the tequila talking, and that things had gone from bad to worse, at least as far as getting Janie home quietly was concerned. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” She fished in her pocket for her keys. When she brought them out, Tim was able to snatch them before she could try to drive off. Driving angry and drunk was a doubly lethal combination.

  “Give me those!” she snarled.

  “Not a chance,” Tim said, holding them away from her. It was time to assert some control here. “You’re going to let me drive you home and put you to bed.”

  “Oh, that window closed ages ago, pardner. You’re on your own.” She turned away from him, reaching into another pocket for her cell phone. “I’m going to call...going to call....” She faltered to a stop, obviously not sure who she wanted to call. As she swiped at the screen, she dropped the phone and it hit the pavement with a disheartening crack.

  “Crap!” she said, staggering as she bent over to pick it up. “Broke it.”

  “Come on,” Tim soothed, leading her to the passenger side of her truck as she mourned over her phone. “Get in. Let me take you home.”

  Tamed for the moment, she let him help her into the truck. By the time he got in the driver’s side, Kenny walked out of the bar, so he quickly started the truck and drove away.