Second Song Cowboy (Second Chance)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  He bit back laughter but quickly stopped. No reason to entice the bull. “And then what, April? You leave and it goes under again?” As much as he hated to admit it, the question was for his benefit more than anything. “You flit around from place to place quicker than a butterfly. A home takes commitment.”

  “And what do you know about commitment?” One thin brow lifted in allegation.

  “Can we can keep this conversation on track? I’m referring to land, sweetheart. We don’t want to dissect history, do we?”

  Her expression became solemn. “I don’t know what the future holds for me here, but for now, Gramps left me this place for a reason. He knew I’d need to come home eventually.”

  “Home?” He chuckled. “That’s a big word for a woman who calls the road her life.” He pushed himself away from the post and kicked the toe of his boot through the overgrown weeds along the crumbled sidewalk. “Maybe you should think about selling this place.”

  Her mouth thinned. “And why is that? So you and your brothers can buy the land?” She wrapped her arms round her waist and brought her chin up in a hard angle. “I don’t need the money, Dante.”

  “It’s not about money, sweetheart.” He saw the dark circles lining her eyes and he wondered what she’d been stressing over, but forced his sympathy to the back of his mind. He remembered all too well the distance in her that morning in Houston. It made his blood run cold. “You act as if Brooke Creek buying this place is a bad thing. We’d put it to good use instead of letting it go to waste.”

  “Not going to happen.” Determination filled her expression. “I’ll get this place in order. You watch and see.”

  “If you can stick around long enough to throw on a coat of paint, mow the lawn and fix a fence or two, sure, but I highly doubt it. This ain’t your cup of tea anymore, April. You traded in your country sass for designer clothes and sheets.”

  “I didn’t hear any complaining from you about the expensive sheets back in Houston. Maybe you’re just sore because you miss them.”

  “Interesting since you’re the one who showed up here, darlin’. Did you come back for a fourth round?” He kept his gaze glued to hers, not liking how his body slammed to alert at the mention of an intimate reunion.

  “I came back here because—” A long pause.

  “Because why?”

  “Never mind.” She dropped her arms at her sides, grit thrown out of the window. What happened to the girl who never backed down?

  He shrugged as he turned and strolled back down the broken walkway. He half expected a rock to come whizzing past his ear, but instead, she flung a curse word at him. Maybe she hadn’t changed as much as he’d thought.

  Climbing back onto his Harley, he caught a glimpse of her watching him as he drove away.

  ****

  April listened until the sound of Dante’s motorcycle faded down the narrow, graveled lane. She’d almost told him about the baby—almost. Her tongue had turned to rock and she couldn’t form the words.

  Blowing out a long breath through tight lips, she stepped into the house and then came another round of emotion.

  Her Gramps’s house, her home. No matter how far she’d roamed, a piece of her remained here within the four walls.

  The inside was exactly how she’d remembered from the worn, overstuffed chairs, the ancient T.V., down to her framed school pictures hanging on the wall. Everywhere she looked, she could see her Gramps.

  Sniffing back tears, she closed her eyes and inhaled sharply. She wanted to remember the good times, not the pain of loss. If she planned to stay, she needed to get a grip. She’d come here to relieve the stress, to find a resolution, not create pitfalls. Her Gramps knew she loved him and although she could no longer see him in physical form, his spirit surrounded her. She’d carry that in her heart always.

  She’d gotten used to living in an apartment over the years and this two-story farmhouse had lots of room to spare. She loved it, even in the ramshackle condition, and she immediately conjured up images of children running through the rooms, barefoot pitter-pattering on the wooden floors. A tire swing hung outside, and maybe a playhouse.

  Her memories of the farm were bountiful. She’d spent all of her summers here while her parents wandered from one place to another. Her mother’s job as an art curator allowed her to feed her need for exploring abroad. Her father worked for the family owned company and did his own fair share of business travel. At times, she got the feeling they didn’t like having her along. Where most kids would have jumped at the chance to see new places and adventure, for April, she always chose to visit Gramps Liam.

  He’d filled the gaps of her existence. Besides the nurturing he’d provided, he’d bought her a pony for her eighth birthday. He was her tooth fairy and Santa Claus. And at ten, he’d bought her a guitar, neither realizing where the instrument would take her.

  She crossed into the kitchen and a whiff of pipe smoke met her. A comfortable feeling followed.

  The last time she’d seen him, he was sitting at the table eating a bowl of his famous soup beans and cornbread. Every Sunday, rain or shine, he’d make a large stockpot of his specialty and deliver bowls to all of the neighbors. Gramps Liam was a gentle man, always looking out for others, offering help. Without a sliver of doubt, he was the reason why she’d felt confident enough to follow her dreams. He listened to her sing, even when she knew he was tired from working the fields, and he’d always offered a word of praise.

  Running her hand along the heat marks and knife jabs on the countertop, she remembered how she’d made her first cake right here. It was horrible, but Gramps didn’t complain.

  Looking out through the window above the sink into the backyard, she could see herself as the little girl with knee-highs and ponytails learning how to ride a bike. When she’d skinned her knee, Gramps had patched her up with ointment and a bandage, telling her, “Don’t give up, young’un.”

  He was gone. How had time passed at the blink of an eye?

  She palmed her flat stomach. What would Gramps think of her predicament? He’d want her to raise the baby here, she was certain.

  Dante had suggested that she sell this place. She had no doubt the Brooke boys would buy up the one-hundred acre farm without any reservations. But this was her place, away from the stage, the lights, fans and the watchful eye of media. No one would find her here in this secret hideaway. Just like Dante said, none of the neighbors would pry or care about her fame.

  Making things comfortable was top priority. First on the list, call the rental company and let them handle the Lexus. Her stomach twisted as she thought back to the incident. What had gotten her panties in a real ruffle was how she’d clung to Dante on the back of his motorcycle. She’d never ridden on a bike and she wasn’t sure if her nerves were the biggest problem or the fact that he felt good.

  The ride was less than a half a mile, and yet her inner thighs still quivered from the experience. Several times, she’d found herself naturally burying her nose against his neck and inhaling. Not all men smelled as good as Dante. A lick or two wouldn’t have hurt her, but she’d controlled herself.

  The trembling in her core turned to throbs.

  She wouldn’t be licking him anywhere. Rubbing her fingers over her aching temples, she hoped it didn’t lead to a migraine.

  She had some big fish to fry during her visit.

  How would she tell him about the baby? Perhaps she needed to think of this new connection between them as a business relationship, two people who shared a precious gift. She’d have to put aside her emotions, which wouldn’t be easy. How does one carry around love for fifteen years and then suddenly expect to disregard feelings? If she could manage to ignore her heart, she’d have done it long ago.

  Dante was much more than a cowboy with good looks, charming smile and tall lean body. He had a huge heart that he only made available to special people. Once upon a time, he’d allowed her to see his vulnerability, his inner turmoil and secrets. He was b
old and loved living life on the edge and she’d liked that about him, found it exciting. She wasn’t surprised at all when she’d found out he’d joined the rodeo. Where else could a man show off his masculinity and win money and awards?

  Her greatest concern, how would his need for an adrenaline rush work when he had a child who depended upon him? Could he be a positive role model?

  Her other option was to walk away and raise their child alone. Dante would never know.

  Hell, she’d know. How could she justify not giving her child a father?

  She had to get tough and not think back to the past or how he’d made her feel. To not relive in her mind every touch and entwining of limbs.

  Hooking up with a bad boy cowboy wouldn’t happen…not again.

  All of the doubts and questions rolled through her mind.

  If only Gramps was here to give her advice. She’d called her mom in Paris, thinking that maybe, for the first time ever, they could have a heart-to-heart chat, but that’d bombed. Since her mom divorced, she was enjoying the single’s life and didn’t have the time to call her only child. Nothing new.

  Shaking her head, she reminded herself to stay focused, hop into the fixated spot she hid in when she was writing a new song or going out on stage.

  Inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, she allowed the stress to leave her body. She was strong and independent, and no matter what, she’d get through this.

  And tomorrow, she’d tell Dante the news.

  Chapter Six

  “EGGS?”

  Deckland nodded as he handed Dante the carton of brown eggs. “Yes, eggs.”

  “I’m not taking April eggs.” He shook his head. “That’s the lamest come on ever, Deck. And I’m not interested in hooking up with her.”

  “This isn’t me playing Cupid. This is you being neighborly. Remember how her grandpa would visit every Sunday when Mom and Dad were alive?”

  “Mom and Dad were cool, and they had the whole sociable thing down. We’re bad neighbors. I’m okay with it. Why aren’t you?”

  His brother narrowed his gaze. “Real interesting you have no desire to be with the one chick who you cried over for years.”

  “I didn’t cry.” At least not in front of anyone.

  “I don’t think you ever did get over her. I think after she left it was the longest you’d ever kept your horse corralled.” Deckland chuckled.

  Dante groaned. Why did they have to talk about the past? He should have known the instant Deckland heard that April was back in town, he’d start meddling in Dante’s personal life. “You’re interfering and you know I don’t like you playing matchmaker.” He pushed his chair back onto two legs.

  “Is this the first time you’re willing to miss an opportunity to be closer to an attractive female?”

  “I don’t think I like you making me out to be desperate, bro. I’m not a womanizer.” Deckland’s brows shot up in accusation. “Okay, I haven’t always made the right choices, but rumors are like snowballs. They get bigger and bigger.”

  “I guess all of the ladies needed to find out if the tale is true.” Deckland took off his hat and rubbed his palm across his forehead.

  “And what tale is that, Deck?” Dante asked against better judgment.

  “That you’re built like a horse. I’m sure there were a lot of disappointed women over the years.”

  “Screw you, Deck. You’re just jealous.” Dante bit back laughter to keep from encouraging his brother’s absurd humor. “Anyway, I can’t help that I was gifted. But just so we’re clear, I’m not looking to hook up. I’m too busy getting my shit together.” He scratched the thick stubble on his chin.

  “Then start this new change now and take our neighbor some eggs,” Deckland urged.

  He hadn’t told Deckland anything about his recent one night with April. Although, they talked about almost everything else. “No, you be the neighbor in shining armor and take them to April.” Dante shoved them across the table. “And then let’s head over to Shumaker’s and look at the horses he’s getting rid of.”

  “I’m busy today. I have to do some number scrunching before Dillon gets here. You, on the other hand, can take the day off. You’re going to work yourself to death and then who would I have to pick on?”

  Dante chuckled. “Look who’s talking. The man with the heart condition works harder than anyone I know. You keep saying you’re going to take a break, but it hasn’t happened yet.”

  “You may be built like a horse, but I’m as strong as one.” Deckland winked. “Still not going to tell me what happened in Houston?”

  “Are you really this much of a nag? Seriously. Nothing happened in Houston. Not anything that matters anyway.” He averted his eyes, knowing his brother would see straight through him if he wasn’t careful.

  “You’re still staying away from Cassie, right?”

  Dante exhaled. “Cassie who?”

  “Guess that answers my question. Now, the eggs. Take them.” Deckland tapped the box.

  “We have a grocery store where she can get all the eggs, and other grocery items, she needs. When did I become her keeper?” Deckland shrugged and turned, but Dante heard the rumble of laughter. “What’s so funny?”

  “She’s not back in town for a day before you come crashing in, literally. You caused her to be stuck in the ditch. The least you can do is help out in some way.”

  “Yeah, that’s really funny, bro. You have a warped sense of humor,” he huffed.

  “At least I have one,” Deckland said and left the room. Dante could hear him whistling all the way down the hall and into the office.

  Dante had done a good job of not thinking about April since he’d dropped her off yesterday—except for the fifteen minutes he was in the shower. And before he’d fallen asleep. Oh, and the dream he had of her. He’d gotten out of bed with a hard-on that even jacking off couldn’t ease. But still, there were some points that he hadn’t thought about her, he just couldn’t think of any at the moment.

  Maybe he shouldn’t have told Deckland that she was in town. He should have known his brother would come up with a reason for Dante to visit her. He glanced at the blue carton as if it were a two-headed snake. But eggs of all things? His brother could come up with some hair-brained schemes at times.

  The back door opened and Peyton peeked in. “Any cowboys around?” she yelled.

  “Only one, Pey.” She swept through the door, and as always, carried a ray of sunshine with her, and food. He got a strong whiff of something sweet and his stomach growled.

  “Just the person I was looking for.” Peyton placed her armload of packaged food in the freezer and placed a covered pie plate on the table in front of him.

  He lifted the corner of the foil and his mouth salivated. “Is that strawberry pie?” He hadn’t had a slice in years.

  “Yes. Dillon told me it’s your favorite.

  “You’re spoiling me.” He had a feeling she felt sorry for him, but he wouldn’t pass up a pie.

  “I also brought mac and cheese, lasagna and corn casserole. Throw the meals into the microwave and nuke them on high for five minutes. Easy.”

  He chuckled. “Just because you’re married to our brother doesn’t mean you’re responsible for me and Deckland.” Although he loved her cooking.

  “What are sisters-in-law for?”

  “You certainly are the best.” They’d become close over the last few months and she felt a lot like the sister the Brooke men never had. Lord knew they needed a woman’s point of view added in the testosterone mix. “No dance classes today?”

  She shook her head, sending tendrils of hair falling from her bun. “I had one earlier and I’m done for the day. Jessica will be fine without me this afternoon.”

  “So, tell me the update. How’s the house coming?” Peyton and Dillon were in the final stages of building a house on her Uncle Marty’s land.

  Her exasperated sigh echoed off the walls. She dragged a chair out from the table and plopped down.
“If I’d known it would be this frustrating, I’d have decided to stay in the farmhouse. Thankfully, we’re only looking at another few months.” She rolled her eyes. “Dillon and I got into an argument over a toilet. Can you believe it? A toilet for heaven’s sake! He wants extravagant and I’m looking at function. I’m used to penny pinching.”

  “He does spend a lot more time on the toilet than you, I’m sure.” Dante pointed out. She nodded. “And no, you wouldn’t have stayed in your Uncle Marty’s house. You love your privacy too much.”

  Peyton thrummed her fingers across the table. “Okay, I do. But the biggest reason that Dillon and I decided to build our own place was because I feel Betty and my uncle need as much seclusion as my husband and I do. Uncle Marty doesn’t need me watching over him like he once did now that he has a companion. I’ll have my own space, my own house, but be close enough if they need anything.”

  “Aren’t you really saying that since Aunt Betty moved in with Marty they’re like teenagers having wild and crazy sex?” Once upon a time, her cheeks would have flushed, but she was comfortable now that she’d gotten to know him.

  “Well, just between the two of us, I think Uncle Marty is a spring chicken again. Betty has done wonders for him, I’ll give her that. However, I’d rather not hear activities through the thin walls of a bedroom. And, Ollie doesn’t need to either.” She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and then smiled. “Speaking of which, guess what I found underneath my son’s mattress last week?”

  “A nudie magazine?” He arched a brow.

  “He wishes he had an entire magazine. I found a picture of a naked woman.” Her cheeks did redden now. “Dillon told me not to worry. He said this is normal for a boy who is maturing.”

  Dante winked. “Trust me, it is. How did you handle it?”

  “I traded the nude picture with one of Ollie and me when he was toddler.” A worried expression swept over her features. “Do you think I did the right thing?”