Second Chances

by Denise Belinda McDonald

  “Why did you do—” Jacob cut off Zan’s words with his kiss.

  His hands slid to her face, gentle with their grip. Zan wrapped her hands around his wrist, but didn’t push him away. Her mouth parted, her tongue invited him to deepen the kiss.

  Jacob twisted and tried to get closer, but the steering wheel stopped him as it bit into his hip.

  He pulled away from the kiss with reluctance. “Inside.” He nearly barked at her, but he was ready to ignite and she was the only thing that could get the fire inside him under control.

  Zan scrambled across the seat and out the passenger side. Jacob beat her to the door by only a step, and both stood with heaving chests as he fumbled with the keys. They barely made it over the threshold before his mouth found hers. Rougher than he would have liked, he shoved Zan up against the door to shut it as his tongue plundered her.

  If the way she plastered herself to him was any indication, she didn’t notice or care. She wrapped a leg around his waist and rubbed her crotch against his. Her small hands tugged at his denim shirt to release it from his jeans. When she pulled it free, her hands slid up his bare chest.

  Jacob groaned and moved his mouth to her chin and then along the silky column of her neck. He pushed her skirt up to her hips and cupped her ass. He nudged her other leg up. With her clinging to him, he ground his hips into her.

  “Oh God, Jacob. I missed you.” Her soft words blew warm breaths across his ear.

  Jacob pressed his hand between them, reluctant to loosen even the smallest bit of hold on her. His fingers slid inside panties then into her warmth. She was already wet.

  Damn if he didn’t almost come right then and there as she rocked her hips against him.

  “So good,” she moaned as he increased the rhythm. And increased it more until she shuddered and came against him. “I need you so bad,” she said in a breath nearly as ragged as his.

  His body raged. He couldn’t wait one second more. He pulled his hand free and tugged at the front of his pants. After much effort, he freed himself and then pushed the small swatch of fabric covering her aside. With her back still up against the front door, he thrust into her, her heat enveloping him.

  She’d been gone for so many days and he was so hot for her that it didn’t take long before he was soaring and ready to climax.

  “I love you, Jacob,” she whispered in his ear.

  “I love you, Zan.” The words didn’t bring the roof down on his head. Quite the contrary, it was all he needed to send him over the top. With a final thrust, he emptied himself in her then held her tight to his chest.

  He’d said it. To Zan. Hell, she’d said it first. He wanted to shout from the rafters. She loved him. It paled anything prior in his life. The rightness of his life with her in it should have scared him shitless; instead he knew he was right where he needed to be.

  “That was…that was… Ohmygod, I missed you.” Zan opened her eyes and looked at him.

  Jacob gave her a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. He rested his forehead on hers. “I love you.” He saw her mouth turn up in a smile, a smile he wanted to wake up to next for the rest of his life. “There’s something I want to ask you.” He lifted his head and looked at her. “I…”

  Someone pounded on the door. “Zan, Jacob. Open up. It’s Quint,” he yelled from the other side.

  Fear and alarm skittered across Zan’s face.

  Jacob released a heavy sigh as she slid her legs down his body. Once he situated himself back in his pants and both were presentable, Jacob opened the door, ready to blast the man for interrupting his goddamn marriage proposal. But one look at Quint’s face told him something was wrong, terribly wrong.

  “What is it, Quint?” Zan pushed Jacob out of the way, her voice tainted with trepidation.

  “Aunt Bonnie’s at your house.”

  “My house? Why?”

  “Sheriff Reese called her. Someone trashed it.”

  Jacob had his keys in hand. “Let’s go.”

  ———

  “I’ll let Clyde walk around then meet you guys inside,” Jacob said.

  The trio had just come from Zan’s house, where they had cleaned for hours to get it back to rights. Someone had knocked everything around, hadn’t broken much thankfully, but it had still taken a while to get it all back into order.

  “I’ll be in in a minute.”

  Zan and Quint nodded and left him alone with the pup outside the diner.

  Jacob was just using the dog as an excuse. He needed a moment to calm his rising anger and disappointment. Zan was going home—to her house, not staying with him. They hadn’t talked about it. He wanted her to come home with him, to the ranch, but it didn’t seem to have crossed her mind.

  When the sheriff said she could go back in, she hadn’t hesitated. She’d even asked Quint to stay with her for a few days.

  Jacob kicked at a rock as Clyde sniffed the truck tires around him. He’d been about to propose to her for God’s sake. He’d wanted a better build up than hot sex up against a door. Very hot sex… Very hot unprotected sex. God, how did he miss that before?

  He had been so concerned with getting inside her he hadn’t even cared. They had to be more careful in the future. But even the possibility of Zan being pregnant didn’t scare him to death as he might have thought. He wanted to marry her and have children. So they would start a little early.

  He shook his head. He had some hell of timing. Better yet, Dale Holstrom did. Though no one said anything, he could tell they were all thinking the same thing. He’d seen the sheriff’s face, especially when Zan had pulled him to the side and spoken to him in hushed tones.

  Jacob had asked Quint what that was all about but the younger man hadn’t known either.

  Now more than ever, Jacob needed to have Zan with him so he could protect her from Dale. He wasn’t going to waste another damn second. He was going to ask her to marry him once and for all. Jacob put the pup back inside the truck and with determination and steeled nerves he headed for his future.

  He walked through the front doors of the diner and saw Quint sitting alone at the counter. He scanned the crowd. His gaze shifted to a table in the corner. With her back to him, Zan sat with a man he’d never seen before. The two looked deep in conversation, so Jacob joined Quint at the counter.

  “Who’s that?” he asked Quint.

  “Why, that’s the good doctor, Charles Stratford.” Jacob heard from behind him. He grimaced at Dale’s voice, but stayed his temper.

  Dale took the stool next to Jacob. His toothy grin could only mean trouble.

  “Is that so? And who might Dr. Charles Stratford be?”

  “Zan’s fiancé. Didn’t you know she’s engaged?” Dale’s grin widened.

  Jacob’s stomach clenched.

  “Ex-fiancé, Holstrom,” Quint corrected.

  “What’s he doing here?” Jacob directed his question to Quint, but Dale jumped back into the conversation.

  “He came to collect his wayward bride-to-be.”

  Jacob looked back at the table in the corner, specifically at the man with Zan, the doctor. Why had she failed to mention he was a doctor? He looked every bit the part, at least in a big city way. He had his blond hair styled in a “do” unlike the functional cut of a majority of the men in Paintbrush. His slacks, button-down shirt and sports coat—who wears a sports coat in Paintbrush?—stood out among the jeans and brush poppers.

  A doctor for God’s sake? Doctor Dud, Jacob smiled at the nickname he’d just bestowed on the man.

  Doctor Dud had a tan, yet it didn’t look like he spent any time outdoors. Jacob knew men used those tanning machines like women, but he had never once met a man who had. A gold watch peeked out from the cuff every time he gestured with his speech, which rattled on and on.

  “Seems they were in the middle of repairing a little tiff between them when Zan up and ran away to Wyoming.”

  Jacob turned his gaze to Dale. He wanted to pop the man in the mouth. Just one qu
ick shot and be done with it.

  “First of all, the ‘little tiff’ as you call it was finding Charles with his pants down around his ankles and a twenty-year-old pinned up against his desk. Not something Zan is likely to forgive quite so easily.” Quint had gotten off his stool and was standing beside Jacob.

  “Second of all…”

  “That’s okay, Quint.” Jacob put his hand up in front of Quint. “You don’t need to enlighten Dale.”

  “That’s right. I don’t need any enlightenment. I already have our sweet Zan’s number.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jacob stood. Acid churned in his stomach.

  Dale just shook his head and flashed that sickening grin again. “You know it’s a shame this has to happen to you again, Jacob. Two different women dumping you for a better, wealthier man.

  “Trisha. I have to say I was a little surprised. You and she come from the same place. But Zan—” Dale shook his head, “—what could you offer her? Nothing. You’re a poor stable hand. That’s no life for any woman—especially a woman like Zan. She’s better off to see that now then down the road when she’s living hand to mouth with a poor sap like you with no more ambitions than to work for someone else all your life.”

  Jacob’s balled his fist at his side.

  “You’re out of line.” Quint took a step forward and put himself slightly between Jacob and Dale.

  Jacob thought it was a deliberate attempt to ward off any trouble. It was far too late for that.

  “Too bad I won’t get a taste of her before she heads back to Texas. We do have similar tastes in women, you and I. And I really like it when you break them in for me. Makes them putty in my hands when I show them how a real man can treat them.” Dale’s smile turned to a snarl.

  Jacob was happy to oblige him. He shoved Quint aside and plowed his fist into Dale’s smug face. Before Dale could recover from the shock of the first blow, Jacob landed a shot in his gut, doubling him over. A loud groan escaped from his deformed mouth. Jacob was surprised at the sound, his ears rang so loud.

  It almost pulled him back to the reality of his actions. Almost.

  A red haze of anger clouded his vision as the man’s taunts filled his mind. One time too many he’d abused Jacob’s woman and he couldn’t stand for it any longer. Before he could land another punch, however, Quint captured his arms behind him and pulled him away from Dale. Jacob twisted and turned until the younger man lost his grip. Jacob grasped a handful of Dale’s white chambray shirt, already dotted with blood dripping from a cut on the corner of his mouth.

  Jacob landed yet another solid punch to the side of Dale’s head. As he reared back for further attack, a hand wrapped around his left arm and forced it to his side. A hand latched onto his right arm and something cold and metallic encircled it.

  It took a moment for his mind to register the clasp of a handcuff. Then a bracelet closed on the other wrist, binding his arms behind his back.

  “Damn fool boy,” he heard muttered from behind him.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jacob sat awake in the damn jail cell for what seemed like half the night. His hand hurt. Dale’s head was harder than he might have thought. His jaw hurt from clenching his teeth in frustration for hours. He’d be surprised if he’d gotten more than an hour of sleep, but without his pocket watch he had no idea how much time passed. He just sat staring at the gray walls with a single bulb in the middle of the room for illumination. He’d asked the sheriff to leave the light on. Every time he closed his eyes in the darkness, Zan’s face swam into view and he couldn’t bear to think of her. He’d embarrassed her—and himself—and wasn’t ready to face it yet.

  Every time Sheriff Reese came in to see if he’d cooled off yet, he would just stare him down and the old man would walk off shaking his head. He couldn’t believe he’d lost control and attacked Dale. The man was a son of a bitch and probably deserved the ass kicking a long, long time ago, but Jacob had known better than to let Dale’s taunting get to him. He just hadn’t been prepared to see the doctor with Zan and then hear Dale’s assessment of their relationship.

  Worst part, Dale was right. Jacob had nothing—not a damn thing—to offer Zan. He might be the ranch foreman, but that was a pretty name for the truth. He was a ranch hand pure and simple. And that was what he’d stay because he had never given it much thought before. He didn’t know what else to do or if he wanted to do something different with the rest of his life.

  Yeah, a small part of him wanted to have a ranch of his own one day. He’d never really thought of it as an option—just a damn pipe dream. Although with Zan, he had thought it might be a possibility. Why should Zan give up the lifestyle she was used to on a possibility? Why would she want to? That damn doctor could give her anything her freaking heart desired. A sure thing. She would want for nothing.

  Except happiness, a tiny voice in his heart said.

  “Happiness is overrated,” he said aloud. He leaned back against the wall. He had never listened to his heart before. No point in doing it now.

  But still, his heart and his head warred over points of wants versus reality. He could still ask Zan to marry him and, all cockiness aside, he knew she’d say yes. She did love him, or she’d said so before all hell broke loose. But he knew she wouldn’t like to live in his world, not for long.

  Sure, she had moved to Wyoming—away from her previous life. Now, he saw it for what it was. She had tried to run away from her life in Texas and to hide out in Paintbrush. She was pretending at life in Paintbrush. She had the fallback of her parents in Fort Worth if things ever got too hairy here. That wasn’t real life.

  As evident by Trisha showing up, and hell, even the good Doctor Dud, you can’t run away from your life. It catches you every time and slaps you with reality.

  “And a damn fine reality.” He had to contain the urge to spit on the cell floor as he lay back on the rickety cot.

  He hadn’t even counted Dale’s attempts to undermine their time together. The man wanted what he wanted and didn’t stop to let anyone get in his way. If running her off the road and tearing up her house was any indication, he wasn’t going to shy away from messing with Zan again. Not until he was done with her.

  She was definitely better off out of the state of Wyoming. He would hate to see her leave, but he knew he needed to figure out a way to make sure she left Wyoming, even if that meant with the doctor. But how?

  With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes and prayed for sleep to come and let his brain go numb.

  “Jacob?”

  His heart stalled at the sound of Zan’s voice. He debated ignoring her, feigning sleep. Just as the thought ran through him though, another idea came. Zan would never want to stay in Wyoming if he turned on her. No one was that big a glutton for punishment. Not that she hadn’t already been on the short end of Holstrom’s abuse. Dale would keep at her and keep at her. There was no way Jacob could protect her. And, as he’d already mentally rehashed, even if he wanted to try and be her knight—he snorted even at the thought—he had nothing to offer her in the way of a life.

  It would have to be convincing, he’d have to give her no reason to hang onto the little piece of happiness she’d found so far away from home, even if it meant ripping out his heart along with hers. It could work. If he could be a big enough ass. After sitting in the jail cell, he didn’t think he’d have to dig too deep for the inspiration. He swallowed. Time to get the inevitable over with.

  He opened his eyes and sat up. “What?” He fought not to wince at his own gruffness. His grandfather would kick his ass up one side and down the other if he ever heard him take that tone with a woman.

  Her lips parted and her cheeks paled at his brusque tone. Her small hands wrapped around the bars and she peered at him through the gap. “I, uh… Are you okay?”

  “Peachy keen. I just love sitting in a jail cell.”

  Her eyebrows knitted and pulled down. A frown replaced the startled look. “What happened?
”

  “Why, whatever do you mean, darlin’?” He threw the saccharine words at her. Damn he hated himself. “You were there remember? Or were you too distracted with your old friend to notice something like me.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her, much the same way he’d done with the sheriff.

  She dropped her gaze and looked down to her shuffling feet. “Jacob, what the hell is going on?” she asked when her eyes returned to his. “Why’d you hit Dale? That’s not like you.”

  “And how would you know what I’m like? I’ve known you for, what, like a month?”

  Color rose in her cheeks and a hint of anger sparkled in her eyes—along with unshed tears. “It’s been longer than that and you know it.”

  “Yeah, maybe. I haven’t kept track.” It killed him to hurt her this way, but he had to. Hopefully one day she’d see it was for the best. If he couldn’t protect her from Dale, he bet that damn doctor could—back in Texas.

  Zan’s hands dropped from the bars. “Is there anyone you’d like me to call for you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Can I get you anything? Sheriff Reese said I could bring you whatever you need.”

  “Nope.”

  “O…okay.” She looked at her watch. “I’m going to get that chair. I can sit with you for a couple of hours until I have to go to work.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Jacob, what the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Not a damn thing.”

  “Well you’re sure not acting like yourself. Did Dale hit you?” She reached through the bars toward him but he was too far away for her touch. Her small hand pulled back to her side. “I didn’t think so, but if he did you might have a concussion or something.”

  “He didn’t lay a finger on me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need some sleep.” He stretched his arms then lay back on the cot. His slow, deliberate movement belied the screaming in his head telling him to admit he didn’t mean to be cruel. That he wanted nothing more than to be with her—always. But he couldn’t. Wouldn’t.