Second Dance Cowboy (Second Chance)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  Without hesitation, she found him and wrapped her fingers around his erection. The iron smoothness grew against her palm as she pumped the muscle. She barely processed when her jeans were loose and pulled down to her knees. He gently removed her hand, his breath ragged in her ears, as he guided his tip against her moist sheath. He pressed, sliding inside of her, filling her. Then came a powerful thrust that buried his cock deep within and she bucked her hips. He possessed her as the feelings tripled and threatened to rupture like flames. She clawed at his shirt, dragging it upward on his body, across his shoulders, wanting skin contact. Her nails marked him, claiming him…

  An orgasm washed over her as she closed her eyes and rode the wave.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  DILLON AWOKE WITH Peyton beside him, her head lying in the crook of his arm. Her naked breasts pressed against his chest and one long, shapely leg stretched across his stomach. He could feel the heat radiating from her core. His dick jerked and came alive. He couldn’t wake her, not yet. He wanted to watch her sleep.

  What they’d shared last night had been amazing. And he’d heard what she’d whimpered in the belly of passion. She loves me. His chest rose with pride at the same time fear edged its way into his stomach. Hell, he wasn’t even sure she’d meant it.

  If Peyton said the words, he could trust her.

  He swallowed. He loved her too, but he couldn’t open up as easily. Who fell so hard so fast? Could he be sure what they felt was true and not just a case of lust?

  The love he’d had for Cassie had long ago faded. He didn’t want to see anything bad happen to her, but she had lost her space in his heart. Without a doubt, Peyton had taken up residence.

  Could he offer Peyton the life she needed and deserved? He thought he could.

  He slipped away from her side and dragged himself out of bed. Life could be good.

  In the bathroom, he turned on the water and adjusted the shower spray to the hardest spray on the dial. He needed a good pounding. Climbing in, the heat felt great against his shoulders. Stress could always land his muscles rock hard.

  “Need some help?”

  The sweet voice made him open one eye. Peyton stood on the other side of the seashell curtain and he could see the silhouette of her naked body. He drew back the material and peeked, his breath leaving his lungs. He skimmed her firm breasts, flat stomach, lean hips, nice legs to the tips of her pink toenails. “Did I hear you asking if I need help?”

  “You certainly did.” She lazily angled one hip and her chin tilted. “Are you up for it?”

  “Come on in, sweetheart. The water’s just right.” He stepped back, giving her space as his dick welcomed her with a salute. Damn, he couldn’t keep it down.

  Her eyes followed the lines of his body, studying his hard on as a sweet smile curved her lips. “What a good morning.” She winked.

  “The bruises look better. The fat lip is gone.” He explored her face, gently touching the darkened areas. “One small bruise looks mean. Poor sweetheart.”

  “I feel fine. In fact, I don’t remember ever feeling this alive.” She wriggled her brows. “You certainly know how to make a woman feel enchanted.”

  “Glad I could be of service.” Lowering his head, he gently kissed the booboo on her lip. She brought her arms up and around his neck, pressing her bare body against his. The hot water streamed between them. “I could get used to this.”

  “Showering together or morning sex?” she asked. He could have sworn she purred.

  His cock turned iron hard. “Both. Yet, we haven’t done the morning sex.”

  “We’re about to.” She tugged his head down and kissed him firmly on the lips.

  A man had to love a brazen woman.

  ****

  The mechanic wiped his dirty hands on a dirtier rag as he came toward Peyton and Dillon. “Hey there, Dillon. What can I do ya for?”

  “We’re checking on the car brought in last night, Grover. Can you tell me what we’re looking at?”

  He scratched his greasy locks and slid his hand down his face, smearing a path of oil over his cheek. “It looks like the radiator’s busted and the fender is bent. I can get to the radiator this afternoon, but the damage to the front will need to be repaired at a body shop.”

  Peyton never enjoyed car talk, even when it directly affected her. A radiator or a motor, it all meant the same to her. She wanted it fixed as quickly as possible.

  “Now, if your insurance will cover the damage, Mike the body shop pro will probably get around to fixing it later this week. We’ve both had a sudden rush of customers. Probably the same damn dog jumping out in front of everyone.” He looked at her and his eyes widened. “Oh, sorry about the language ma’am.”

  “No problem. Does Mike by chance have rental cars?” she asked. “She won’t need a rental, Grover. Can you arrange with Mike to get the body fixed? You’ve got my number and you can call me when it’s done,” Dillon said.

  “Wait, I’ve got to get back, Dillon.”

  He touched her elbow and led her away from the mechanic. “I’ll take you.”

  “But I didn’t think you wanted to go right now.”

  His jaw clenched. “I don’t know if I want to, but I will. “

  She moistened her lips. “And why is that?”

  He shrugged. “You came here to check on me. Not many people would do that. I can’t send you off in some rental.”

  “You’re a gentleman.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. Getting a whiff of his fresh scent, she was reminded of their lovemaking in the shower and she had a strong a desire to do more than cuddle “Anyway, you’d get lost again.” He laughed. “And if something would happen…” He sucked in a ragged breath.

  “Nothing would happen.” She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “You know what? I’m mighty fond of you. Do you think we have time to go back to the cabin and play a little game before we head home?” Feeling frisky, she pinched him on the butt.

  “There’s nothing little about that, darling.’” He laughed.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  PEYTON AND DILLON had been spending all of their time together since they’d left the cabin a couple of weeks ago. Tonight, she prepared a recipe she’d found in her mother’s journal. Peyton had never made it before, but she’d wanted to do something special. She’d invited Bettie too. Dillon was learning to deal with the secret and had seemed to forgive his aunt. After all, she’d played a minimal role in keeping the truth hidden away.

  They’d also skirted around any conversation regarding their budding relationship. Under ordinary circumstances, Peyton would be concerned about the growing friendship between her son and Dillon, but watching them hang out together made her feel secure, nothing like she’d experienced with Richie. Her ex had been selfish, distant and cold. Oliver seemed happier these days. Uncle Marty even enjoyed having Dillon around.

  Yet, Peyton didn’t want to rush anything.

  She seasoned the pot of stew boiling on the stove and sampled the broth. Adding a speck more pepper, she placed the lid back on just as she heard a knock on the door. Checking the clock on the wall, she smiled. “Right on time.”

  Passing the sliding glass door, she caught a glance of Bettie and Uncle Marty sitting on the patio. The charm between them was obvious and Peyton couldn’t be happier for them.

  She found Dillon on the porch with his back facing her. He turned and her breath caught. He held a bouquet of yellow roses, her favorite. “These are for you, my lovely lady.”

  “For me?” She accepted them, inhaling the floral scent. “I’ve never gotten flowers before,” she admitted.

  “Never?’ He touched her cheek and kissed her on the forehead. “You deserve a flower garden.”

  His warmth drew her in. She wrapped her free arm around his neck and lifted on tiptoes to press her mouth against his. She had missed him, although it’d been less than twenty-four hours since he’d left. “How did the auction go? Did Dante and Deckland go wit
h you? Did you buy more horses?” She was excited to hear about his trip.

  “No. Dante didn’t go. We figured he wouldn’t.” The lines around his eyes deepened. He’d been concerned over his brother’s lack of concern about the ranch. “And yes, we bought some great stallions.”

  “Don’t worry about, Dante. He’ll come around. He needs some time to come to grips at the loss of his relationship,” she said.

  He nodded. “I realize that, but Deckland and I aren’t a team of two. We need Dante’s input.”

  “Come in and I’ll put these in water.” In the kitchen, she chose her favorite vase from under the sink and arranged the flowers in the crystal. “These are beautiful, Dillon.” She admired the finished product.

  “Yes, very beautiful.”

  She caught his stare on her backside and excitement brought her alive. The hunger igniting within her was a reminder they hadn’t made love in a few days. Crossing the room, she laid her head back on one shoulder so she could meet his gaze. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed your touch.”

  His hand came up and tangled in her hair, bringing the strands to his nose. “You smell so good,” he whispered.

  “I don’t think it’s me.” She winked. “That’s my mama’s special recipe for chicken stew.”

  “Yeah, that smells great too, but you have an amazing scent.” He buried his face deeper against her neck.

  The butterflies tickled the inside of her stomach as she pushed her body closer against his. Bringing her mouth to his, she smoothed her tongue across his bottom lip, then sucked the plump skin. Her fingers ached to trace the hard line of his body, past his belt buckle to the erection she felt against her hip. If only they were alone.

  “Maybe tonight, after everyone’s in bed, we can sneak some time together.” His husky voice vibrated her insides.

  “We may have to see what we can do.” She took a step back and inhaled deeply, easing the tension in her pelvic area. “I’ll call everyone to dinner.”

  Through dinner, Peyton listened to the chitchat, but her thoughts were on the man who sat across from her. Several times, he’d brought his gaze upon her, smiled and made her heart beat faster. She liked seeing him sitting at the table with her family.

  “Peyton?”

  She jerked her glance toward Uncle Marty, realizing he was speaking to her. “I’m sorry.” Flustered, she tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear.

  “Have you heard about your car? Will it be fixed soon?” he asked.

  Looking at Dillon, she attempted to get her voice to work. “I—I think the mechanic said he’d have it finished by Monday.”

  Dillon nodded. “Yes, on Monday.” He brought his spoon to his mouth, chewed and swallowed. She couldn’t tear her gaze away. “Great stew by the way.”

  “Thank you,” she said, realizing everyone must see straight into her thoughts.

  When everyone finished, Peyton started to clear the dirty dishes, but Bettie shooed her away saying, “You cooked, now I clean.” Peyton would normally argue, but Oliver had homework he needed help with. So, she went in search of her son, finding him sitting in his bedroom. His books were open and scattered across his bed while Dillon explained fractions. Standing at the door, she stared in admiration and her heart filled with love.

  “Anything I can do?” she asked.

  “I only have two problems left,” Oliver said.

  “Looks like someone knows his math,” she said to Dillon.

  “And I know you’re jealous that I get to help.” Dillon wiggled his brows.

  “Okay, fellows. If you need me I’ll be downstairs.”

  She started for the kitchen, but a knock made her change her plans. The instant the door opened, her heart skipped a beat.

  “Hello, beautiful.” Richie smiled ear-to-ear. Every hair on Peyton’s body stood on alert. Her tongue thickened and her bottom lip trembled as her fingers itched to slam the door in his face. “Aren’t you going to say hello?”

  Her ex leaned against the porch railing, his booted ankles crossed and self-confidence oozed from his every pore. His hair was shorter, at least six inches, the usual layer of a thin beard gone and the brow ring disappeared. But the charming smile he’d learned to use as a weapon remained. No doubt, he had good looks, but that was all.

  Swallowing the cotton-ball feeling in her throat, she managed to gather words. “What are you doing here?”

  “Is that anyway to treat your husband?”

  She choked on her saliva. “Wrong. We are no longer married.” Disgust slithered down her spine.

  “Can we talk?” The grin faded some, but his assurance remained. Without waiting for her invitation, he stepped across the threshold.

  “She started to close the door, but thought better of it in case she needed to toss him out on his ear. “You can’t show up here uninvited.”

  He did a quick examination of his surroundings before he looked back at her. “You know how it is, baby. I have my reasons.”

  “Must be the same reason why you haven’t called in two years.” Folding her arms over her waist, confusion entwined itself with her anger. Would Dillon come downstairs? Her mouth went dry. The chance that the two of them would meet left her cold. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said in a lowered voice.

  “I want to see my boy.”

  “You can’t stop in here when the notion strikes you.”

  “What is this about, baby?” He took a step closer, holding out his hand. She stepped back and his gaze narrowed, a frown developed over his expression.

  “I’m serious, Richie. If you’d called first I’d have told you that now is not a good time.” Her palms turned clammy as he reached out and took her hand into his.

  “Ahh, come on. Aren’t you glad to see me?” He winked, his charming grin returning like a vice that choked her.

  “No.”

  “You don’t mean that.” He pulled her closer and nuzzled his lips against her neck. She brought her hands to his chest and started to push when movement on the stairs caught her attention. She brought her attention further upward and met Dillon’s heated stare.

  “Dillon.” She took a step away from Richie.

  “Am I interrupting?” Dillon asked.

  Richie dragged his gaze up the stairs. “I think I was interrupting, buddy,” Richie said.

  Dillon descended each step, slowly, his eyes on Peyton. “You must be Richie.” He stepped onto the floor.

  Something flashed over Richie’s face. “Do I know you?” His brows curved over curious gaze.

  “We’ve never met,” Dillon said.

  “Then I guess I’m at a disadvantage. What’s your name?” Richie asked.

  Peyton stepped forward, breaking the bridge of testosterone. “Richie, this is my friend Dillon.”

  “Oh, I see.” Richie’s gaze widened. “I’m Peyton’s husband.”

  Peyton didn’t dare look at Dillon. She guessed he was as shocked as she was to see Richie. “Ex-husband,” she corrected. Richie laughed and Peyton’s insides swirled. She had an instant desire to throw up.

  “You okay?” Dillon asked Peyton.

  Hesitating, she looked from Richie to Dillon. “I’m fine.”

  He scrubbed his jaw. “I should probably go.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” she said, grabbing his hand and starting for the door. She turned to Richie and pointed, “And you don’t take one step from that spot.”

  On the porch, she nervously looked at Dillon who had his hands pushed into his pockets. “He’s some character,” he said.

  “Isn’t that the truth.” Richie was the last thing she wanted to deal with.

  “Friend, huh?”

  “What?” Her mushy mind attempted to understand what he was saying.

  “You introduced me as your friend,” he said.

  “I did…but I didn’t mean—wait, was that wrong?” Her chest tightened.

  “Hell, I don’t know, but I’d hoped I was more than a friend.” He moved and his
boots scraped against the wood planks.

  “Dillon, I have no idea why he’s here. I can’t leave him alone in there. I’m not sure I want Oliver to see him.”

  Dillon sighed. “Okay. We’ll talk later. If you need anything, call me.” Without a glance her direction, he took off.

  Going back inside, she nailed Richie with what she hoped was a powerful expression. “You need to leave. How the hell did you even know where we were?”

  “I stopped at our house. Why the hell was there strangers living there?”

  Grabbing the lapel of his worn leather jacket, she practically dragged him onto the porch. “I rented the house, not that it’s any of your business. You gave that right up years ago,” she snapped. Her heart raced and she needed to slow it down.

  “I’m sorry to say but you and my son are still my business.” Pleasure filled his gaze.

  All of the oxygen left her lungs. “Go to hell, Richie!” Her words were close to a screech. The dog barked. “Hush, Bruno.”

  Guilt plagued his expression. “I’m sorry I’ve been gone for a while. I would have called but you know how forgetful I am.”

  “Forgetful or brainless?” She wasn’t holding back. For far too long he’d come prancing in and out of her life—Oliver’s life. She’d had enough.

  “That’s not very nice. You know we belong together like peanut butter and chocolate.” He bent his head as if he would kiss her and she sidestepped him.

  “I’m certain you’re the last man on earth that I belong with.”

  “I’m the boy’s father. You can’t change that, no matter how many cowboys come knocking.”

  Reminding herself of the nights she lain awake, waiting for a call, waiting for Richie to show up sent revulsion twirling through her. She’d never allow him to hold so much control over her life again. Oliver’s father or not, she couldn’t allow him any control. “That’s none of your business.”

  “I’m afraid it is, sweetheart. We have history.” He slipped a hand along her cheek and she shivered. “Well, well, I see I still get a reaction.”

  “One of disgust,” she hissed. “Now you need to go.”