Second Chances

by Denise Belinda McDonald

  Neither said anything for a long moment. Self-conscious, Zan tidied the counter and moved the stack of “Your Pet and You” brochures from one end to the other. She checked her watch and realized it was time to lock up. As she passed Jacob to get to the doors, he grabbed her arm.

  “Are you mad I said we’d go?” he asked, his voice low and soft.

  With a heavy sigh, she looked up into his brown eyes. She wanted to tip up on her toes and kiss him, and have him slip his arms around her waist, pulling her to him. “No. I’m not mad. Disappointed maybe.”

  He released her arm. “Why?”

  “I’d have thought you might want to spend time together—just you and me.” She pushed past him and locked the front door. She left him standing alone in the reception area while she turned out the lights throughout the clinic and checked Doc’s office to make sure her desk was cleared.

  Of course she was disappointed. He hadn’t touched her more than a casual graze since before Thanksgiving. Maybe he regretted making love to her and didn’t know how to let her down easily.

  When she returned to the front, Jacob was standing in the same exact spot, his hat still clutched in his right hand. In his left hand, he held a small white box with a little pink bow.

  “Where…” Zan started to ask where the box had come from, but he moved toward her and all her thoughts fled.

  “An early Christmas present,” he said with a sheepish smile, holding the box out to her.

  With shaking fingers, she took the box about the size of her hand.

  Jacob laughed, a low breathy sound that spiked Zan’s pulse. “Open it already would ya?”

  Zan nodded and tugged at the bow, letting it fall to the floor. Lifting the lid, she found another box, a black velvet box, inside.

  Her heart raced. Maybe she’d been wrong after all…

  She lifted the black velvet lid. Not exactly a sign of everlasting love and devotion. Tears filled her eyes but she wasn’t sure if it was from more disappointment or the sentimentality of the little trinket, a silver baseball charm about the size of a marble, hanging from a thin box chain.

  She sucked up her overactive-anticipatory imagination and hooked her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Thank you, Jacob.”

  He slid his arms around her waist and hugged her. Not exactly the response she hoped to get from her kiss.

  “You’re welcome,” he whispered into her ear.

  She pulled back from the embrace and took the necklace from the box, then handed it to Jacob. “Here, put this on me please.”

  She turned to let him slip the chain around her neck. After he hooked the clasp, he dropped several tiny kisses on her neck, melting away whatever anger she had with his decision to have dinner with Quint and his merry band of friends.

  Jacob wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her back to his chest. His chin rested on top of her head. “We still have two hours before we have to meet Quint.”

  “And what do you suggest we do?” She closed her eyes. Her hands slid over the soft sleeves of his worn denim shirt, stroking his arms. Shifting her hips back and forth, she rubbed the front of his jeans with her bottom.

  His chest rumbled against her back as a low laughter escaped from him. He dipped his head and took a nip at her earlobe. “Your place is closer than mine,” he whispered, his breath warm on her neck.

  Zan waited a heartbeat, and then said, “Let me get my purse.”

  ———

  “I thought you guys weren’t going to show,” Quint said when Jacob sat in the chair next to him.

  Jacob and Zan had been otherwise occupied and lost all track of time. When they came up for air, after the second round of hot, sweaty sex, they were late. Arriving an hour and a half after everyone else, and with no excuses or apologies, Jacob and Zan made it in time for the karaoke bar.

  “Sorry, we…” Jacob couldn’t come up with a compelling reason for their tardiness, just short of telling the truth, which he was not about to do. “Sorry.”

  “Uh-huh.” Quint winked at him and turned his attention back to the other people at the table.

  Jacob was surprised to see Cade Holstrom among the group of six that surrounded the rest of the table. Although they had gone through school together two grades apart, Jacob had never really gotten to know the youngest of the Holstrom clan.

  From what he had heard around Paintbrush, Cade was nothing like his two older brothers. Unfortunately, with brothers like Dale and Bart it was hard to distance yourself from the infamy of the family name.

  Moose stood on the stage and the crowd quieted.

  “Thanks to all of you for coming out here tonight. We have several people lined up to sing, but still have spaces open if anyone wants to come on up.”

  Zan glanced back at him and to his profound amazement, proceeded to the stage and gave her name.

  With Zan gone, Jacob scanned the table and found Missy Lunsford poking Cade in the side. He hadn’t seen her look so happy, so upbeat, in a long time. It had been four years since her husband and brother died in the plane crash. He couldn’t imagine a loss like that, but she’d been a rock through it all. He was glad to see her having fun, even if it was with a Holstrom.

  “You used to sing great in high school. You should get up there,” she said.

  “Uh-uh. No.” Cade shook his head, but a smile spread on his face.

  “Aw c’mon, Holstrom. Chicken?” Missy asked.

  Jacob watched Cade raise an eyebrow and the smile faltered a bit. “Me? Chicken? Not on your life.” He rose from his chair and walked over to where Katie took down names of others wanting to sing.

  Hmm—interesting, Jacob thought.

  Cade walked back to the table with Zan as the first singer got up on stage. Sitting down, Cade crossed his arms over his chest and nodded at Missy as if to say “so there” which brought a bout of laughter from her.

  “What was that all about?” Zan asked as she sat back down beside him, yelling over the loud, off-key rendition of “Proud Mary”.

  “I have no idea.” Jacob looped his arm over Zan’s shoulders and kissed her temple. “So. What are you going to sing?”

  Her eyes sparkled and a huge smile spread across her face. Zan had changed into a red turtleneck and matching cardigan and although she was completely covered up, Jacob couldn’t help his eyes straying to the swell of her breast. Her fingers played with the baseball charm hanging there and he couldn’t help be envious of the piece of silver. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

  Her words brought his eyes up. He was caught.

  “If I’m a good boy and wait, what will you give me?” Jacob wiggled his eyebrows at her. She swatted his thigh before she turned her attention back to the stage.

  Cade’s name was called and he headed to the stage. Passing Missy, he nudged her with his elbow and gave an exaggerated wink. Taking his place on stage, the slow music started and Jacob instantly recognized a Garth Brooks song. Jacob was surprised by Cade’s selection, not taking him for a ballad-man. What surprised Jacob even more, what caught everyone at the table off-guard except maybe Missy, was Cade’s voice.

  The dulcet tones somehow managed to quiet the entire room. More to Jacob’s surprise, several of the women dabbed at their tear-glistened eyes. When the song finished and the music faded, the audience went wild. In all the time Jacob had been in his cousin’s restaurant, never had the crowd shouted for an encore. But women stood and shouted for more, the men hooted and hollered. Cade squirmed, and looked to Katie, who just shrugged.

  He mouthed something to her and after a moment, another slow song rumbled through the speakers. Cade Holstrom, youngest of the bad-dude Holstrom clan, wooed every woman in the room.

  The applause deafened Jacob. His ears were still ringing when Katie called up the next singer. If it hadn’t been for the infernal ringing, he might have thought Katie had called his name. The way everyone at the table looked at him, expectant and eager, they must have had the same afflicti
on. It wasn’t until he saw Zan’s freckled cheeks blaze bright red, did he realize she had set him up.

  “Come on, Jacob. Please?”

  “Zan, why’d you do that?” He hadn’t told her about how personal his singing was. In fact neither one of them had ever brought it back up. He didn’t think she’d even remembered.

  Why did she have to go and do something like that? He stood and grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet. Annoyance and embarrassment heated his face. He looked over at Katie and shook his head before he dragged Zan from the table.

  When he reached the door, he could hear the next person on the list begin their song. He turned, ready to confront Zan, but found Quint charging at them.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Quint demanded.

  “It’s okay, Quint.” Zan tugged free and held her nephew off with her raised hands.

  “It is not okay. He nearly jerked your arm out of the socket trying to get away from the table.” Quint thrust his hands on his hips.

  Anger lined the man’s face in a way Jacob had never seen before. The younger man, if threatened, looked as if he could hold his own. Not that Jacob cared to find out. He stood back and watched while Zan tried to calm her nephew. Jacob was far too surprised to open his mouth, afraid he might say something he would regret later. Although, at the moment, he doubted he would.

  “It’s my fault,” Zan said again to Quint.

  “Oh, I can believe that. Seems like trouble follows you around, Pretty-thing.”

  All three turned to find Dale Holstrom leaning against the wall watching them. A show just for his entertainment. Audience of one.

  “What’s the matter, Zan?” Dale asked. “You don’t like the company you’re in?”

  Jacob balled his fists at his side and ground his teeth. A wry smile curved the corner of Dale’s mouth and Jacob wanted nothing more than to knock it into next week, but he would never cause a scene in his cousin’s restaurant.

  Someone cleared their throat. Only then did Jacob notice a brassy blonde, wearing far too little clothing, standing next to Dale. She crossed her arms over her ample bosom, her big blue eyes wide open, obviously uncomfortable with the tableau in front of her. With good reason.

  “Trisha.” Jacob nodded at her, taking his eyes off Dale for the briefest moments.

  “You know Trisha, Jacob? Oh, but of course you do. You two were almost married right?” Dale delivered the news to the group with a smug grin.

  Jacob looked over at Zan to judge her reaction. He hadn’t told her about Trisha. Had never planned to tell her. He’d been so stupid back then, why dredge up ancient history? It had been over fourteen years.

  “Zan doesn’t know her. Let me do the introductions. Zan, Sweet Darlin’, this is Trisha Rowe and… I’m not sure I’ve met you.” Dale leaned forward and held his hand out to Quint.

  Quint stared at the outstretched paw until Dale pulled it back.

  “This is Quint Walters,” Zan said, surprising Jacob and apparently everyone else judging by all the bemused faces. She stepped closer to Trisha and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Trisha.”

  Trisha looked back and forth between Dale and Jacob then stepped forward and took Zan’s hand. With a quick shake, the two women parted and stepped back to their respective sidelines.

  Jacob watched, at a loss what to do. His mind, instead of sitting idle, mentally catalogued the woman from his past and the one he wanted for his future. The difference between the them, although both blonde-ish, was staggering. Trisha was thin and almost boney to Zan’s voluptuous, curvy figure. Trisha wore as little clothing as possible, thinking she looked provocative. Where as Zan could wear a pair of chinos and red sweater set covering up most of her and look sexy as hell. Even though they were about the same age, time had aged Trisha far beyond her years and Zan, Zan got carded at a restaurant they went to in Sheridan the past weekend.

  “Walters?” Dale asked, finally. “Any relation?”

  Zan held her shoulders square. “You might say.”

  Dale looked Quint over, making whatever judgment his feeble little mind could concoct. “Husband coming to claim you back from the wilds of Wyoming and—” he threw a narrowed look to Jacob, “—and the smarmy cowboy men running loose?”

  Quint snorted. Zan cleared her throat then said, “Go to hell, Holstrom.”

  “What? Trisha can attest to Jacob’s background. Can’t ya babe?” He looked at her for a beat.

  Jacob took Zan’s elbow with the intention of getting her out of Dale’s line of fire but she pulled her arm free. Not unnoticed by Dale whose eyebrows rose and a smirk curled his lip.

  “Getting defensive. Hmm—interesting.” Dale stepped closer to Jacob. Casting his voice lower he said, “You and my Sweet Darlin’ don’t have a lot in common, Bowman. Maybe you and I could barter a trade. I remember how much fun you once had with little ol’ Trisha, here. Being ex-fiancés and all.”

  Trisha’s harrumphed and her brow furrowed as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her pointed gaze didn’t waver when Dale moved back next to her.

  Jacob clenched his fist at his side again, anger washing heat over his face. “Why you…”

  “Hey now. Who knew there was a party going on in the back of my restaurant?” Moose moved next to Jacob and threw what probably looked like a friendly arm over his shoulder. The pressure and message to cool it was anything but. “Why don’t you go find a seat up front and enjoy the show I’m paying for.”

  Dale shrugged and grabbed Trisha by the wrist, dragging her to an empty table near the far side of the room.

  “What the hell was that all about?” Moose asked just above a whisper.

  Jacob shook his head and ran a hand over his face. “The past coming back to bite me on the ass.”

  He turned to ask Zan if she was ready to leave, but she had her back to him.

  “Can you take me home?” he heard her ask Quint.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jacob gave Zan the rest of the weekend to cool off. He wasn’t sure exactly why she had left the restaurant with Quint, why she hadn’t given him a chance to explain, but he knew he screwed up by his Neanderthal reaction to being asked to sing. And worse, not telling her about Trisha. The look on Zan’s face when Dale blurted out his relationship with the woman, the look of hurt and anger and just plain jealousy had ripped at Jacob’s heart.

  Give him a capital A for asshole.

  Fortunately, he didn’t have any reason to run into Quint on Sunday. The man may be younger, and her nephew, but he took on a role of protector and closed in around her as soon as potential danger threatened. Jacob had to admire him for his loyalties. Jacob was glad she had someone to turn to, other than himself, living so far away from home. Even if that person shot steel daggers from his eyes when leaving Dominique’s the night before.

  But on Monday morning Zan’s nephew waited outside Jacob’s house, his arms crossed over his chest and his stance combative at best. The sun had yet to rise, but even illuminated only by the light of the porch, Jacob could see the man’s scowl. He didn’t say a word, so Jacob headed to his truck to unload the rope he had purchased the day before.

  “If you’re just going to stand there and stare at me, you might as well make yourself useful. Grab that rope and come on.”

  Quint stared at him a moment longer then climbed into the back of the truck to hand Jacob one of the twenty-pound coils of rope. After Quint jumped down from the truck, the two walked to the barn, the crunching of their boots on the graveled pathway the only noise accompanying them.

  They put the purchase in the tack room at the end of the barn and Jacob grabbed a bucket of feed and headed to the first stall. Being the ranch foreman, he could delegate the chores to one of the hands but he always loved the time alone in the morning. Just him and the horses. He always saved Stella for last, taking the time to rub her neck and give her an extra treat or two. This morning, however, he had company and wanted to get the feeding out of
the way, for whenever Quint decided to speak, Jacob wouldn’t be in the mood for a tête-à-tête with Stella.

  Quint didn’t speak. He moved about his business with determination, feeding his side in record time. Jacob didn’t know what to think about his odd—silent—behavior but thought best not to comment until the younger man was ready to talk.

  By ten that morning, fat, fluffy snowflakes fluttered to the ground. Jacob pulled his wool-lined coat tighter around him and his felt hat lower on his forehead, hoping to block out some of the chill. Quint had gone out and purchased a hat the first day on the job. White flakes speckled the pristine black felt. His new coat hung stiff in the shoulders, but despite the cold, he’d never complain—much like his aunt.

  Chore after chore the two worked in silence. Throughout the morning, other hands joined them and tried to engage either man in conversation, but left, discouraged, to work on their own tasks when they got no responses.

  Just after lunch, Hank pulled Jacob aside. “What the hell is going on with you and the boy?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hank.” Jacob wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and tossed the remnants of a bagged lunch inside the cab of his truck.

  “Don’t give me that bull. Both you been scowling like you been skunk dipped.”

  Jacob shook his head and tried to walk past Hank, but his co-worker, and for friend many years, grabbed his elbow stopping him. “Did you and Zan fight?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure? ’Cause I heard Trisha was back in town.”

  Jacob eyed Hank. “This place is a freaking nightmare at times,” Jacob said under his breath. “What else did you hear?”

  Hank shrugged, continued to speak. “I heard Dale brought your ex up to Moose’s and ran into you and Zan and the boy.”

  “Sounds like you don’t need me for anything. You have all the damn details.” Jacob tried to sidestep the older man.

  “No one said for sure what they heard—” Hank grabbed his elbow and continued as if Jacob hadn’t spoke, “—but they said if looks could kill…” His voice trailed off and his eyes shifted behind Jacob.