Every Good Cowboy Deserves A Second Chance

by Maggie Miller

  “Did you carve that?” I ask Luke, squeezing his arm and leaning against him. “You’ve been a busy man. I love it!”

  “We’ll put it alongside the road to our house,” he replies. “To show visitors the way to our home.”

  When we arrive at the wide doors to the barn, Luke steps in front of me and holds up his hands. “I have a surprise for you inside,” he says. “It’s something I’ve been working on with Matthew’s help. I hope you like it.”

  Matthew can’t stop grinning beside him. He swings open one of the big red barn doors and Luke grabs the other then waves for me to go in. I step inside the barn and stand there speechless, stunned at what I see.

  The interior of the old barn has been completely transformed into a magical room filled with twinkling white lights, beautifully decorated tables with glowing candles, and flowers everywhere. A massive chandelier hangs from the barn rafters where once there was only a bare light bulb dangling from a dangerous extension cord.

  The dirt floor of the barn has been covered with a shiny dance floor with an elevated stage for the band in one corner. The food buffet line runs down the full length of one side of the huge barn. In the middle of the room is the massive multilayered wedding cake. On the top stands a man with a cowboy hat and a guitar singing to his bride who has long blonde hair. The wedding topper was specially designed for us as a wedding gift from Harry.

  “Well? What do you think?” Luke asks, sliding an arm around my waist.

  “I can’t believe you did this. How in the world were you able to pull it off? This is amazing! I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. It’s perfect. I can’t even recognize the old barn now.”

  “It’s a hit!” Matthew says, slapping Luke on the back. “All of our hard work sneaking around in the middle of the night for weeks was worth it.”

  The wedding guests slowly file in behind us and let out gasps when they see the renovated barn. After shaking our hands in the reception line, they search for their names written on personalized Mason jars indicating the place settings at the tables.

  The next two hours are a whirlwind of best wishes, speeches, never-ending toasts to us, and happy laughter. My jaw grows sore from smiling so much in pure happiness.

  Matthew saves his toast for last after we’re all seated for dinner. He raises his glass and turns to face us from his place at Luke’s side.

  “Luke is my baby brother, but I always admired him,” he says. “Luke went after his dreams and never let anything slow him down. He always refused to settle for anything less than genuine happiness. He’s found that now with Ginny.” He reaches down to give Luke’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We’ve all heard the songs about their love story, now we can watch it play out in real life. To Luke and Ginny Collins! May your life always and forever be the inspiration for love songs.”

  “To Luke and Ginny Collins!” The beaming wedding guests lift their glasses to toast us.

  After we’ve eaten dinner and the multiple wedding cakes have been cut and served, the guests move to the side of the dance floor in anticipation of our first dance. Before the dancing begins, I walk over to kiss Charles on the cheek. He’s seated close to the action so he can see everything that’s going on.

  “You’re pretty tonight,” he says to me, reaching out to take my hand. His eyes are clear, without their usual glaze of confusion. “Evelyn always said you would be our daughter one day. She loves you.”

  I notice he’s using the present tense to talk about Luke’s mom. “And I love her,” I tell him, once again blinking back tears. “I love you too, Charles. Your son will make a fine husband and father.”

  He nods back at me. “Luke’s a good man,” he says. “And a good son. I’m proud of him.”

  I walk onto the dance floor where Luke is waiting for me and take his outstretched hand. He pulls me close and we slowly sway together in our first dance as a married couple.

  The band is playing the background music to his latest number one hit song, ‘One More Chance.’ The single exploded up the charts when his label released it the day after he sang it to me on stage. When Luke holds me in his arms, I’m happier than I ever could’ve believed possible.

  “You were always the one, Ginny,” Luke whispers in my ear. “I should’ve asked you to marry me when we were eighteen. Think of all the time we’ve wasted when we could’ve been doing this.”

  I pull my head back and smile up at him. “Back then we would’ve taken our love for granted. Now we know every moment together is special, and we’ll never forget it.”

  “Never,” he agrees, twirling me around then pulling me close into his arms again. When the song ends, he leans down and grabs my lips in a long kiss. “I’m so glad we’ll be living here on the ranch. I can’t imagine my life without you. You’re the best part of me. Thank you for giving me a second chance.”

  “Thank you for convincing me to do it,” I reply, reaching up to graze his jaw with my fingertips. “You believed in us even when I was doubting. I’ll never doubt again. I love you, Luke.”

  The wedding guests move to join us on the dance floor and the music tempo picks up. I turn to dance with Dad, then Matthew, and even Lily until I’m dizzy from spinning and pure joy.

  Then it’s the moment Misty has anxiously been waiting for: the bouquet toss. The single women gather behind me on the dance floor. I can feel Misty’s eyes laser-focused on the flower bouquet I’m holding up high in front of me. I know she’s slightly to my right, so I try to aim that way without seeming obvious. I throw the bouquet back over my head and hear the female guests shrieking behind me as they almost knock each other over to grab it. Then only silence before loud cheers break out from the crowd.

  I whirl around, fully expecting to see Misty triumphantly clasping the bouquet. Instead, it’s little Lily who holds onto the bunch of flowers, smiling in delight. Misty throws up her hands in defeat and comes up to me with a teasing grin. “I wouldn’t trample a little child,” she says. “Not even for a husband.”

  I laugh and hug her in consolation. “You know, Luke’s band member Maverick might need a drink refill,” I say, pointing to him taking a break up on the stage. “You always did have a thing for guys in bands.” Her eyes light up and she happily heads in his direction.

  Lily holds her flowers up to me with a big grin on her face. “I got the flowers! I caught them!”

  I bend down to whisper to her. “Maybe we should ask your daddy to watch those for you, so you can dance without worrying about smashing them.”

  Taking Luke’s hand, we follow Lily to the edge of the dance floor where Matthew is sitting. He’s smiling contentedly from the sidelines, watching everyone having fun around him.

  Lily pushes the flowers into his hands. “Hold these for me, Daddy. I want to dance.”

  Matthew takes the flowers from her and places them on a table beside him with an amused smile. “If Lily gets married next, I’m not doing a very good job as her father.”

  I laugh and pull out a chair to sit next to him. “You know, I think the rules of catching the bouquet only apply to adult guests. Which would technically mean that you’re the first one to touch the bouquet. Should I start planning another wedding?”

  He raises his eyebrows, a smile playing on his face. “I pretty sure that’s not how it works, Ginny.”

  “It’s not what I heard,” I tease.

  “No way am I getting married again,” he says. “One time did it for me and I’m never going down that road again. Though I will say, this is a fantastic wedding.” Matthew gestures around at the decorated barn, the lively dance floor, and the guests who are having a blast. “Everything turned out perfect. I’m happy for you two. You deserve all this and more. And we’re all thrilled you’ll be living here on the ranch. You coming back into Luke’s life was the best thing that could’ve happened to the Collins family.”

  Luke draws up a chair beside us. He takes the pitcher of fresh-squeezed lemonade sitting on each table and pour
s three glasses. “I’d like to propose a toast,” he says.

  I happily take my glass and lift it in preparation.

  “What are we toasting to this time?” Matthew asks with a smile, lifting his.

  “I saved the best toast for last,” Luke says. “Here’s to family, second chances, and happy endings.”

  The three of us smile at each other, lift our glasses, and drink.

  “To family, second chances, and happy endings.”

  Are you ready to read more about the Collins brothers? Don’t miss Matthew’s book, “Every Good Cowboy Daddy Deserves A Bride” coming soon! Keep reading to check out the preview included below. To be notified when new books in the Sweet Rose Canyon series are available, please sign up for my mailing list here. Find me on Facebook at “Author Maggie Miller” or here.

  If you liked this book, please leave a review for me on Amazon. Leaving a review is the most helpful thing a reader can do for an author and they are appreciated more than you know! If you would like to be a member of my regular Advance Review Team and receive a free copy of new releases before publication, please send me the link to your Amazon review for this book to maggie@authormaggiemiller.com. I look forward to hearing from you!

  SNEAK PEEK: Every Good Cowboy Daddy Deserves A Bride

  SNEAK PEEK: EVERY GOOD COWBOY DADDY DESERVES A BRIDE

  By Maggie Miller

  Matthew

  Matthew frowned at the scene on his television screen. Swirling blocks of dark green color moved across a map of the Gulf of Mexico, then the shot switched back to the blonde news reporter who spoke in a low Southern drawl.

  “Hurricane Grace has just been upgraded to a dangerous Category Five hurricane,” she said. “Those who live in the southern areas of Texas are being advised to finish last minute preparations. The store has increased in speed during the last hour and is projected to move into Texas in the early morning hours with winds upwards of one hundred miles per hour.” The news camera cut to live footage of local hardware stores. “Scenes of panic can be witnessed across the state as residents prepare to weather the storm.”

  With a loud sigh, Matthew switched off the TV. His younger brother, Luke, and his new bride, Ginny, were away on a huge European concert tour. It was bad timing for a hurricane to blow into Texas.

  Not that there was ever a good time.

  Yesterday, he had ordered the ranch hands to go home. They had their own families to protect from the storm. The day before, he’d sent his young daughter, Lily along with his elderly dad and live-in caretaker, to his aunt’s house in Oklahoma. He’d worried the three guests would be too much for his aunt to handle. She’d assured him she was thrilled to have their company for a few days.

  Matthew was grateful for her hospitality. Knowing his family was safe took a huge burden off his mind. He couldn’t imagine riding out a Category Five hurricane with Lily and Dad at the ranch too. His dad was in the later stages of dementia and required an oxygen machine most of the time. The thought of losing power made the decision to evacuate them easy.

  He folded his arms across his chest as he looked out the kitchen window and across the empty fields. For the first time in forever, he was completely alone at the ranch. The tall grass in the pasture was being whipped around by the wind and driving rain. The hundred-year-old tree in the back yard strained under the wind with the thick branches almost touching the ground.

  The chaotic scene looked quite a bit different than it had last year when Luke and Ginny had said their wedding vows underneath the tree in a beautiful ranch wedding. Matthew hoped the old tree made it through the hurricane to live another hundred years. The way it was going, he doubted it.

  He stepped out onto the front porch. After wrapping his thick jacket tighter around him, he hurried toward the horse barn where the front doors had come loose. They pulled slightly open then slammed shut, over and over. One of the wooded planks was beginning to tear away from the frame.

  The doors would never make it intact through the night. He needed to board them up with extra reinforcement. Unfortunately, he had used all the lumber and plywood he could find to cover up every window in the house, except for the one in the kitchen.

  There was no choice but to make one last trip into town before the hurricane blew in.

  He climbed into the cab of the truck and fought the wind to pull the door shut. When he turned the key in the ignition and pressed down on the accelerator, the wheels spun on the wet ground then finally lurched forward. The dirt driveway leading to the main country road was slick with mud. Soon, even the main roads would be completely inaccessible due to flooding.

  The rest of the drive into town was just as treacherous. The rough and winding country road into town was dotted with potholes filled with rainwater that splashed up when the wheels passed through. The wipers were going ninety miles a minute and he could barely make out the road ahead.

  It took him an hour to complete a twenty-minute journey. When he arrived in town, he could see the panic the upcoming storm caused. People rushed around trying to buy last minute supplies while getting soaking wet in the process. Those who tried to open umbrellas found them quickly turned inside out by the wind.

  Through the store windows on Main Street, he could see the shelves almost picked clean. He started to worry that he wouldn’t be able to get what he needed to ride out the storm. Who knew how long he might be stuck at the ranch? An extra day to prepare would’ve been nice. The hurricane had taken a last minute turn to bring the path of the storm right up into Sweet Rose Canyon.

  He rushed into the crowded hardware store. Thankfully, there was still some plywood left. He loaded up enough to cover the remaining window, and to secure the barn doors. After he put it all into the bed of his truck, he headed into the main grocery store. He knew the power was likely to be out for a few days once the hurricane hit, so he quickly searched through the slim pickings left on the shelf. There wasn’t much available, but he could make do with a couple of gallons of water, batteries, coffee and canned soup.

  Maisy, a local teenager from the church, stood behind the cash register. She wore a white store apron, her dark hair pulled back apart from her long blonde bangs. She looked exhausted, but also a little excited at the prospect of the upcoming hurricane.

  She grinned when he approached. “Hey, Mr. Collins. Are you ready for the hurricane?”

  “Just about,” he replied. “I’m surprised to see you still here. Do you have a ride home? The store will be closing down soon.”

  “I only live a block over so I can walk home after work.”

  “Well, you make sure you get home before the winds get worse,” he said while helping her bag up the groceries. “It’s dangerous out there.”

  “I will.”

  Matthew hurried back out to the truck. The wind had picked up even more in the short time he’d been in the store. He pushed the full weight of his body against the wind to keep moving. The cold rain slapped against his skin, soaking through his shirt within a second of stepping outside. A loose shopping cart rolled across the parking lot, almost hitting a woman running to reach her car. He wrestled against the wind to get back into the cab of his truck. Once safely inside, he felt the vehicle rocking from side to side. He switched on the radio to try and get an update but heard only static.

  After putting the truck into drive, he headed back towards the ranch. The storm drains in the small town were overflowing, turning the road into a small river with rushing water. He drove as slowly as possible, easing his way carefully along. He couldn’t afford to slide off the road into a ditch. There were still too many things to do.

  As he got closer to the small wooden bridge on the outskirts of town, he noticed a motorcyclist up ahead struggling to maintain his balance on the bike against the driving wind and rain.

  What the heck was some fool doing on a motorcycle in this kind of weather? He watched as the motorcyclist pulled over under the covered bridge and slid off. What did the guy think? Th
at he could wait out the hurricane underneath the bridge? This was only the beginning of the storm. Within the next few hours, being outside at all, even in a sturdy vehicle would be a risk not worth taking.

  Matthew pulled over in front of the motorcycle and stepped out of the truck. Standing under the old red wooden bridge was like being behind a waterfall. On either side of the bridge the rain cascaded down in a blanket so thick he couldn’t see the road. He raised his voice to be heard over the roar of the wind and rain. “You won’t be able to go much further on your bike,” he yelled to the biker. “It’s practically a river out there.”

  The biker didn’t answer or remove his helmet. Instead he paced in a small circle like he was pondering his options. Matthew noticed the motorcycle had a Louisiana tag. The fact the man wasn’t from Sweet Rose Canyon didn’t surprise him. The man was obviously lost. The hurricane evacuation routes coming inward from the coast were all bumper-to-bumper. He’d probably taken an alternate route that left him in the middle of nowhere.

  “They’ve upgraded the storm to a Category Five,” Matthew told him. “The eye of the hurricane is going to hit tonight. You need to get off the road and find somewhere safe.” The man didn’t reply. “I’ve got planks on the back of my truck. I can easily load your bike into the bed and give you a lift to my ranch to wait out the storm. I’m almost finished boarding up. I’ve got spare bedrooms and supplies if you don’t have a place to go.”

  The biker glanced over at him for the first time, but still said nothing. His full helmet hid his expression.

  “The nearest motel is almost twenty miles away,” Matthew continued. “I don’t think you’ll make it, and even if you do, I don’t know what rooms will be available in a storm like this. Most travelers will be taking shelter. Help me load your bike onto my truck and we’ll get you out of this storm before we both get trapped here. The river is rising fast.”