Austin: Second Chance Cowboy

by Shelley Galloway

  He didn’t need a therapist to figure out the reason, either.

  He ached to stay as far away from his father as possible. So much so that he’d been willing to sacrifice a relationship with a pair of four-year-old cuties in order to keep that divide deep and distant.

  But, like so many other things in life, his head’s good intentions didn’t always jibe with what the rest of his body had in mind. The closer he got to the place he grew up, the more his palms started to sweat and the more his mouth went dry.

  It was a familiar feeling, one he’d felt so often he could have bottled it up and sold it—if there’d ever been a need for true homesickness.

  Usually when he started getting the sweats and the shakes, he figured it was also time to lessen his thirst and jitters with a couple of beers or a stiff drink. Or hell, both. With a tequila chaser.

  Now, of course, he was going to have to make do with remembering his vow to himself.

  But when he drove over the cattle guard and started down the short, narrow drive to the small home he used to call his own, Austin’s hands began to shake even harder. Just like that, memories reappeared and warped in his brain, making him feel ill.

  Making him feel weak and pretty much helpless.

  “Get a grip on yourself,” he said to the empty cab. “This ain’t no way for a man to behave.” When that bit of lame advice didn’t do much good, he pulled over onto the shoulder, took his hands off the wheel and breathed deeply.

  Shoot. Cheyenne or his father was probably staring out the window, wondering who was parked on the side of the driveway in the dark.

  More likely, he could be scaring the girls. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to think of something else. Something that wouldn’t rile his senses up like memories of his father always did.

  A heartbeat passed. Two. Then out of the blue a familiar face flew into his mind. A pretty face with hazel eyes and a gorgeous head of brown curly hair.

  Dinah, of course. Dinah, who could laugh louder than most people, whose eyes had sparkled with devilment back when they’d goofed off like teenagers do.

  Dinah, lean and strong, racing her palomino Buttermilk in the ring. Pure determination lighting her eyes.

  Dinah, chewing on his ass. Locking him up in her tiny interrogation room. Leaving him to rot there while she went off to save the world.

  He knew he was slowly falling for her. Even though it made no sense. No sense at all.

  “You can sure pick ’em, Wright,” he scoffed as he pulled back onto the road and finished the short drive to the covered parking area.

  Like he suspected, the moment he parked, Cheyenne came running out, Sammie and Sadie on her heels. Their hair was a shade redder than Cheyenne’s auburn, but almost the exact match of his memories of her hair when she was small. His nieces peeked around their momma, looking as if they wanted to scamper out to greet him, but weren’t sure if it was allowed.

  He opened his door. “Hi, girls,” he said. “Hey, Cheyenne. How are y’all doing?”

  “Austin, I saw you pull off to the side.” His sister assailed him the moment he slid out of the driver’s side, his cell phone and a white plastic bag in his left hand. Concern etched her features as she looked him over. “What was wrong? Are you sick or something?”

  “I’m good. I, uh, just got a text I wanted to read,” he lied as he pressed a quick kiss to his sister’s forehead.

  His sister looked flummoxed, but she seemed to accept his excuse easily enough. “Oh.”

  As she looked ready to ask him more questions, he approached the twins and crouched down to pip-squeak eye level. “So…how’re my girls?”

  In typical shyness, they simply stared at him bashfully.

  It seemed a little bit more charm was in order. “You two look pretty. So pretty I almost forgot that I brought y’all new crayon boxes.”

  Sammie’s eyes widened as if he’d mentioned that he’d hung the moon. Reaching for her mother’s hand, she used it as a lifeline to edge closer to her uncle. “Crayons?”

  He held up the bag. “Uh-huh.” Months ago, Cheyenne had told him that the girls were suckers for a perfect yellow-and-green box of fresh crayons. Kind of like how she used to be.

  Though it grated on his sister, he brought the girls new boxes and coloring books every chance he had. “Austin, you spoil them.”

  “Chey, everyone who’s anyone knows new crayons work the best.” Looking back at his nieces, he winked. “Right, girls?”

  Little by little, small smiles lit their faces. Though she still stayed next to her mother, Sadie lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “Wanna come in and see my bear?”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” he said. “Wanna hold hands, just for a little bit?”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Sadie let go of her mother’s hand and slipped her palm into his.

  Austin’s heart melted when he felt her small, pudgy hand nestled securely in his own. “Let’s go see that bear.”

  After one step, Sammie reached for his other hand. “Hold mine, too?” she asked.

  “Of course. I’ve got two hands and two best girls.”

  Sadie’s eyes widened. “But what about Momma? Isn’t she your best girl, too?”

  After treating Cheyenne to a sly wink, he scowled. “No way. Your momma’s my little sister. Yech!”

  As he’d hoped, the girls smiled and started guiding him into the house.

  The moment he stepped into the kitchen, the smell of old cigarettes and stale beer besieged him. He looked over his shoulder, half looking for his father.

  “He’s out at the barn,” Cheyenne said.

  “What’s he doing out there at night? Is one of the mares sick?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Every time I’ve tried to go out there to join him, he’s practically bitten my head off. He says he’s happier being out there than being in here.”

  “And you haven’t snuck out there to see what’s going on?” he whispered as the twins kept pulling him down the hall, giggling to each other with every step.

  “I haven’t had a chance. He’s hardly left the barn.” She raised her voice. “And these two have been keeping me busy.”

  When they entered the girls’ bedroom, which had one time been his, he couldn’t believe the transformation. Gone were his old posters of rodeo stars and pinup girls. In their place was a plethora of pink and purple just about everywhere he looked. Pink-and-purple frilly curtains lined the windows. Drawings were neatly pinned on the bright walls. And about a hundred stuffed animals peeked out from every corner of the room.

  “Sammie Sundell, do you mean to tell me you’ve got another bear? ’Cause it sure don’t look like you need another bear.”

  “I did, Uncle Austin. I did.”

  “I got a horse,” Sadie said importantly. “I told Momma that I was a real good girl.”

  “Sadie has been real good lately. Both of them have been good. Why, they sat nice and quiet the other day when I was working. A couple of ladies came over just to see me, and I sold four bracelets, two rings and a pendant.”

  “Momma was real happy,” Sadie said.

  “I’m happy with the news, too.” Settling on the girls’ floor, he straightened his legs and crossed them neatly at the ankles. “So who wants to play Trouble with me?”

  Sammie’s hand shot up. “I do.”

  Cheyenne, still standing in the doorway, cleared her throat. “Austin, are you sure you know how to play?”r />
  “Cheyenne, if there’s one thing I do know how to do it’s play Trouble. Sadie, get out the game and let’s go a few rounds.”

  “Austin, I’m so glad you came by. The girls are so happy to see you.” Lowering her voice, she added, “Thank goodness.”

  He knew they still were having a heck of a time adjusting. So he kept his voice light and even. “I’m happy to see them, too.”

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “A Coke would be real good, Cheyenne. And after you get me a drink, why don’t you either play with us or go take a little break?”

  “I’ve got a thousand things that need doing, but nothing sounds as fun as playing a game with y’all. I’ll be right back.”

  They spent the next two hours good-naturedly playing games with the girls, sipping Cokes on ice and catching up on news.

  Only after he’d helped Cheyenne get the girls tucked in bed and they were in the kitchen did his sister ask him anything personal. “So, how horrible was it when Dinah took you into the sheriff’s office?”

  “Not too horrible.”

  “I can’t believe she kept you overnight.”

  “I don’t think she intended that to happen. She was called away and I was stuck there.”

  “Still, she should have treated you better.”

  “It was no big deal. We simply had a miscommunication. Dad sure didn’t need to talk to you about it.” He hated the thought of Cheyenne sitting around worrying about him.

  “Dad was concerned. And upset about your robbery.”

  “That did suck.” He tried to grin, if only to ease his sister’s worries.

  “Still, though we’re friends, next time I see Sheriff Dinah, I’m going to tell her what I think about her treating you that way.”

  Though his chivalry was kind of taking him by surprise, he rushed to defend Dinah again. “Cheyenne, it wasn’t all her fault. Fact is, I wasn’t being completely honest with her. If there was a problem, it was mine.”

  “How so?”

  Austin wanted to shrug off her question, but he knew if the situation was reversed, he’d be peppering her with questions. And he wouldn’t have waited so long to ask them, either.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her about his AA meetings. About how he was bound and determined to change and become a better man. But maybe it would be better for both of them if he didn’t bring it up? Cheyenne had enough going on in her life without shouldering his burdens.

  So, he took the safe route. Looking his sister in the eye, he said, “There’s been some concern that maybe some of the stolen merchandise might be showing up at my store.”

  “Dinah thinks you stole it?”

  He held up a hand to calm her down. “It’s not all her fault. I do sell used equipment…”

  “You’re not a thief, Austin.”

  “I know I’m not. And I appreciate your support, too.”

  “Humph.”

  “Now, don’t get into a lather. There’s some other things that have gone on between me and Dinah that got in the way. That got in the middle of her direct questions and my evasive answers.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as things that aren’t any of your business. Look, I’m going to shove off.” Setting his empty Coke can and glass on the kitchen countertop, he said, “It was good to see you and the girls, Chey. I think they’re doing better. You’re doing a real good job with them.”

  Two lines furrowed her brow. “I don’t know if they’re doing better or not. They hardly ever leave my side. But we’re working on it.”

  “That’s all you can do.”

  “Austin, why don’t you go out to the barn and see Dad, too? I know he’d appreciate it.”

  “No.” He saw the flinch, and he felt bad for it. But not enough to apologize. He was done apologizing for his feelings for his father. Or his desire to remain distant from him.

  To soften things, he pushed a wayward lock of hair away from his sister’s forehead, smoothing the line that had formed between her brows as he did so. “I know you wish things were different, but can’t we just accept it?”

  “Not just yet. I want us to be a family.”

  “The family you’re aching for just ain’t going to happen, Cheyenne. You’re stuck with the one you’ve got. We are what we are—all dysfunction and shot full of faults. If you want something different, you’re going to have to go get your own.”

  “I already tried that. All I got was a husband who came back from the war so changed that he couldn’t handle his life anymore.” Quietly, she added, “I know he was hurting and dealing with a lot of stress from being in Iraq, but I can’t forgive him for killing himself.”

  Inwardly, he flinched. Ryan had been a good man, a true hero. His suicide broke all their hearts.

  Austin knew there was nothing he could say to make things better, so he kissed her brow. “Do you need some money?”

  “No.”

  He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his worn leather wallet. He didn’t have a ton of extra money, but he could spare her three or four twenties. “Sure?”

  “I’m okay. Put your wallet back, Austin.”

  “All right, then. But call me if you need something, okay?”

  “I won’t.”

  “Then I’ll see you at the store. Bye, Sister,” he said quickly. He fought a smile as he got into the cab of the truck. It had been a long time since he’d called her just “Sister,” his childhood name for her.

  As he drove back down the driveway, over the cattle guard and back onto the highway, he thought about his family advice to Cheyenne.

  And he thought about his dinner offer to Dinah. And how for a few seconds there, he’d been sure she was going to accept the invitation.

  Now that he was almost off the hook in the suspect department, he decided he was just going to have to try a little harder in the dating department. Dinah Hart was on his mind—she wasn’t about to go away—and he had a deep need to explore his feelings for her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dinah figured it didn’t take a whole lot of gumption to step into Austin’s store the next morning. All she really needed was a willingness to ignore her pride and let Austin walk all over her.

  Judging by the way he had propped his elbows on the scarred counter as he watched her approach, he was prepared to do that. Whistling low, he looked at her with a definite sardonic gleam in his eye. “Here you are. Again. Dressed in a white blouse today, too. Where’s your uniform, Sheriff?”

  “Hi,” she said, ignoring his dig.

  And because she knew the drill, she stood there, waiting for him to continue.

  He didn’t disappoint there, either. “This must be the fourth time in as many days that you’ve called on me in the morning.” His voice turned low and deep. “Best be careful. It’s bound to be a habit.”

  Only because she figured she deserved his grief did she stand there and take it. Almost. “Are you done with your pretend flirting?”

  “I rarely pretend to do that.” Looking her up and down, he said, “So what gives? You anxious to see me so soon? Did you want to buy something?” Slapping his hand on the counter, his eyes went hard. “Or…let me guess. There’s been another robbery. And I’m the prime suspect.”

  “Actually, there has been another robbery.”

  “Sorry, can’t help you there. I was at my dad’s last night.”

  Knowing just how much he didn’t care fo
r his father, she put off asking to see his back room. “Really? I have to say I’m surprised.”

  “I know. I don’t go there much if I can help it. But Cheyenne and the girls are there and I like seeing them.”

  “Of course you do,” she said gently. “They’re sweet girls.”

  “Cheyenne’s done a good job with them.” He raised a brow. “So, if you’re not here to interrogate me…what’s the word?”

  “The word is that I came to give you some pictures of some of the stolen saddles. I thought maybe you could be on the lookout for them, in case someone tries to sell them.”

  He took the photos without even the most cursory of glances. “All right. Thanks.”

  “And…I need to apologize to you.”

  “For what?”

  She’d done so much damage to their relationship, she hardly knew where to begin. Sucking up her pride, she said what needed to be said. “For doubting you. For thinking the worst. For leaving you in the cell overnight.”

  As he folded his arms across his chest, she let her eyes follow the movement. Noticed how the muscles in his chest rippled under the thin cotton he was wearing.

  She felt herself heat up again.

  Oh, but it was time to get on out of there. “Well, that’s all I wanted to say.”

  “Stop.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  He slowly walked around the counter, as if he—and she—had all the time in the world. “I don’t accept apologies like that.”

  “You don’t, huh?” Forcing her voice to remain detached, she said, “So what’s it going to take?”

  “I’ve had a lot of pain and suffering because of you, Dinah Hart. As far as I’m concerned, there’s only one way you can make it up to me.”

  “And what is that?”

  “You’re going to have to go out with me.”

  She gulped. “Like, on a date?”

  “Uh-huh. What do you think? Could you handle that?”