Big Chance Cowboy

by Teri Anne Stanley

  While he began to approach, a little girl in blond pigtails—probably about six or seven, wearing jeans, cowgirl boots, and a hot pink T-shirt—ran past Adam, yelling “Daddy! Daddy! Connor stole my ice cream!” She blasted straight into the long legs of the man Adam wanted to speak to.

  Joe’s smile was bigger now, completely real, and he swung the little girl up into his arms and gave her a big smacking kiss.

  “Ewww, Daddy, that’s gross!” She shoved at him, and he mock pouted. When she looked at her father’s companion, her eyes grew wide as she took in the woman. “You’re pretty,” she told the woman.

  The woman turned, blond ponytail swinging, and recognition brought Adam to an abrupt halt.

  “Riley, this is Miss Lizzie Vanhook,” Joe said.

  “Lizzie?” Adam asked.

  “Oh, hey.” She spun the rest of the way around and greeted Adam. The hem of her dress twirled out, giving him a glimpse of dimpled knee.

  Adam wasn’t so busy ogling her, however, that he missed Joe giving Lizzie his own once-over. Somehow, he found his hand on Lizzie’s waist, his fingers just barely touching her naked back.

  She caught her breath and looked up at him, her eyes widening slightly.

  Hell, he was surprised, too. This wasn’t supposed to be a real date, and he had no business getting touchy-feely with a woman he wasn’t supposed to be interested in.

  “Are you her daddy?” the little girl in Joe’s arms demanded of Adam.

  “Huh?”

  “Are you”—she pointed at Adam—“her”—she pointed at Lizzie—“daddy?”

  “Uh, she means husband,” Joe clarified.

  Chapter 20

  “No!” Adam couldn’t have moved away from Lizzie faster if she’d been a radioactive porcupine. “No. I’m not her husband,” he continued, as though he wanted to make sure his hand on her a moment ago had been a complete accident. “We’re just, uh…she’s my sister’s friend.”

  From the corner of her eye, Lizzie saw Jake shake his head in disgust. She agreed.

  Like she didn’t already feel like an idiot in this dress. What had she been thinking? She knew she looked ridiculous. The little girl had said she was pretty, but chances were that meant she looked like a cross between Elsa from Frozen and Hello Kitty.

  Oblivious to Lizzie’s inner drama, Joe’s daughter smiled at her. “Good. Then you can be my mommy if you want.”

  Joe, who had been smirking at the awkward moment, now began to cough.

  “Daddy, are you okay?” Riley whacked her father on the back.

  Adam moved in and took the girl from Joe’s arms, while Jake took both dogs, and Marcus put his own hand on the mayor’s back, ready to clear an airway if needed. Lizzie supposed this hero choreography was part of their megasoldier training. The kid looked perfectly comfortable in Adam’s arms, giving Lizzie’s ovaries a jolt.

  “I’m okay,” Joe finally gasped, his face red and shiny, the collar of his light-blue golf shirt looking a little tight.

  “Do you want something to drink?” Lizzie asked, desperate for something to do.

  “I wanna drink!” the kid said, squirming out of Adam’s arms and marching toward Lizzie.

  “Riley—” her dad protested.

  “It’s okay,” Lizzie said. She needed a few seconds to regroup anyway.

  Riley pointed at Marcus. “You watch the dogs, okay?”

  Marcus, clearly surprised at the order, nodded with a half smile.

  Riley took the equally nonplussed Jake’s hand and said, “You come with me, too. My aunt Charley’s the best lemonade maker, ever.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jake said, handing the leashes over to Marcus, who stayed with Adam and Joe.

  The little girl definitely had Chance genes—destined for leadership.

  Lizzie found herself following Jake and Riley through the crowd, toward a tent hung with lemon-shaped party lights. A tall, slender woman seemed to be in charge of a crew of teenagers, laughing as she argued with a hefty young man about the best way to cut lemons.

  “Aunt Charley!” Riley called. And then, like the undergrown adult she was, she said, “Lemonade for all my friends, please!”

  “Hey, shortcake!” the woman said. “How many?” She smiled and nodded at Lizzie in greeting and then looked at Jake, her smile barely faltering as she took in the scar on the side of his head with interest. Jake didn’t miss her obvious curiosity, and his hand rose to smooth the hair over the scar as he looked away.

  Poor guy. His hair would grow to cover the marks of his injury, and he might even recover enough of his mental abilities to function in the world, but Lizzie wondered if his self-confidence would be completely annihilated by then.

  Lizzie ordered six lemonades, and after making a significant contribution benefiting the Saint Bernardine Youth Group, the three turned back toward the men waiting at the statue.

  Marcus stood a few feet away from Adam and Joe, enormous arms crossed over his chest, a leash in each hand. Joe’s head was bent as he listened intently to what Adam was saying. Adam passed him a sheaf of papers, which Joe tucked into his back pocket.

  She handed the men their lemonade, taking a giant slug from her own. After a brief, glorious hit of sweet and tart frozen goodness, her head throbbed in intense pain. “Owwwwww.” She clutched her skull with her free hand and turned away.

  “Brain freeze?” Adam laughed softly and put his hand on the back of her neck, the heat immediately counteracting the pain. “Better?”

  She nodded, and after a moment, the hand trailed down her back to rest at her waist where it seemed to fit perfectly.

  “Oh, hey. Maybe not such a good idea,” Marcus told Riley, who stood in front of D-Day holding her lemonade cup within lapping distance.

  D-Day certainly didn’t mind, and Patton crowded in, hoping for a chance to dip his own tongue into the cup.

  “Riley, yuck!” Joe reached for his daughter, but it was too late. She’d put the doggy cup to her lips and took a big drink, then gave the golden retriever his turn.

  “I’m sharing!” she told her dad proudly.

  “Yep, punkin, you sure are. Sharing is usually nice, but maybe not with dogs, okay?”

  “Can we get a dog?” she asked.

  “Uh, maybe one day. After we’ve worked on who you can let drink out of your cup. Let’s go find your sister, huh?”

  “Where do the single ladies congregate?” Marcus asked Joe, scoping out the crowd. Jake, Lizzie noticed, glanced back at the lemonade tent.

  Joe shrugged, and Lizzie suspected he spent a big chunk of each day avoiding the single ladies of Big Chance.

  “I thought dogs were supposed to be chick magnets. You’re not doing your job,” Marcus told D-Day.

  Jake had taken Patton’s leash and was surrounded by a trio of preteen girls who oohed and aahed over him.

  “These are not the chicks we’re looking for,” Marcus muttered under his breath as the girls turned to include D-Day in their cooing.

  The band came back from their break, and they warmed up on the stage before launching into a fast-paced country classic. There was a makeshift dance floor in the middle of the courthouse lawn, and a group of people had begun to two-step around the space.

  “We should dance. Don’t you think we should dance?” Marcus asked Lizzie.

  “Who, me?” she asked, a hand to her chest. “No…I don’t—”

  “Darlin,’ you look hot enough to start a fire, and you need to be dancin’.”

  “I…uh…”

  She shot a look at Adam, who removed his hand from her lower back and said, “Don’t let me stop you.”

  She suppressed a sigh, because she wasn’t hoping he’d stop her but wishing he’d insist on being her dance partner.

  “Miss Lizzie,” Marcus said, handing D-Day’s leash to Jake
, “may I please have this dance?”

  * * *

  Halfway through the second song, Adam realized he was three steps from the dance floor. How had he gotten so close? He’d been watching Lizzie and Talbott dance—everyone had been. For someone with back and nerve issues, the man was light on his feet tonight, twirling her around the floor. Lizzie was a good partner for him, which made Adam grit his teeth.

  D-Day whimpered, and Adam realized he had a death grip on the dog’s collar. “Sorry, buddy,” he said, loosening his hold.

  “Who’s that with Lizzie?”

  Adam jumped and turned around, wondering why D-Day hadn’t alerted him that someone was—“Oh. Hey,” he said to Emma. “Hi, Granddad.”

  “You lettin’ some stranger dance with your girl?” Granddad asked.

  “Lizzie decides who she’s going to dance with,” he said before realizing he’d stepped into a trap.

  The corner of Emma’s mouth quirked up. “She can decide who to dance with,” Emma said, “but it’s nice if she has more than one choice. Did you even ask her?”

  No. He sighed. “Fine.”

  Lizzie and Talbott moved within an arm’s length, and Adam reached out to grab his friend’s shoulder.

  “What?” Talbott asked, separating from Lizzie to look at him, an eyebrow raised in mock challenge. Then he caught sight of Emma and smiled, smoothly transitioning Lizzie’s hand to Adam’s. “Hey, Emma,” Talbott said. “Are you up to a turn on the dance floo—er, grass?” He held out a hand to her.

  “Gee, thanks,” Emma said, holding Granddad’s hand, “but my dance card’s full.” Her words were sarcastic, but her cheeks turned pink.

  Adam decided her flush was due to the heat and not a budding attraction. “Here,” he said, handing D-Day’s leash to Talbott. “Jake needs to be rescued, and this one could use a drink.” He pointed to where Jake sat on a bench, the parade of little girls apparently never-ending as they stopped to pet Patton.

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Talbott said, and with one last look at Emma, he was gone.

  The whole sweaty crowd seemed to disappear as Adam found himself standing under a tree full of twinkle lights, feeling awkward and shy in front of the prettiest woman in town. He stared at Lizzie, who gazed up at him, her skin glistening from exertion. She didn’t speak, but her expression seemed to suggest that she’d been waiting for him to cut in, to ask her to dance.

  The band switched to an old slow song—“I Swear,” he thought it was called. The moment stretched, almost to a breaking point. Without a word, he took Lizzie’s hand and led her into the swaying crowd.

  He focused on not falling as they began to dance, the music, lights, and smell of her hair invading his senses and distracting him.

  She felt good. He had one hand on her waist, just above her hip, and the other held her fingers against his shoulder. Her breasts brushed against his chest, and as he pulled her closer, her tummy pressed against his lower body, instantly making his jeans tighter.

  “I didn’t know you could dance,” she said.

  “I can’t.”

  She raised an eyebrow and pulled away just enough to look down. He noted that the tips of her boots were on either side of his right foot, moving back as his own clodhoppers shuffled forward, turning them in a slow circle.

  Meeting his eyes, she said, “I think this is dancing.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Can’t be. If I got caught dancing—slow dancing with a girl, no less—I’d lose all the points I’ve got for my official Social Reject Club card. I’m just keeping you from running backward into those people over there.”

  “Ah.” She nodded, her mouth curving up into an enticing smile.

  Did she have lipstick on, or were her lips always that pink and tempting?

  “I didn’t realize you were a member of that particular group. You hide it fairly well, considering how nice you are to your sister. And you haven’t been especially rude to me lately.”

  He considered this. “I am just a prospect. I won’t be fully inducted for a while.”

  “Hmm. Well, maybe I can convince you to back out before it’s too late.”

  How had her hand gotten behind his neck, and what were her fingers doing to the ends of his hair? He was going to have to get it cut soon, because that felt too good to be permissible.

  “Why do you think I shouldn’t join?” he asked.

  “It’s an ethical issue.” A frown marred her perfect face, and she said, “My last boyfriend was secretly an A-hole level member—and I’ve sworn to screen everyone from here on out.” She seemed to realize what she’d just said—her last boyfriend, as though there was another one in her near vicinity—and her cheeks colored, but she plowed ahead. “I mean, I can’t share my dog with someone who might encourage crotch sniffing or leg humping.”

  Adam feigned horror. “Is that what A-hole level members do?”

  “It’s what their dogs do. I’ve never seen an actual human one do that.”

  “Thank God.” He laughed and realized the music had changed again, to another slow something or other. It also occurred to him that he was having a really good time. He was in town, in the middle of a shit ton of people, and he hadn’t reminded himself to breathe once.

  Lizzie sighed and shifted slightly, her body pressing against his in a subtle, completely perfect way. Maybe he was just distracted by the woman in his arms. Maybe it was having a purpose—bringing the dogs to town, helping Jake and Talbott get their shit together. Helping his sister. Finding some level of peace with his grandfather.

  Some combination of all of the above…

  As though the universe was aware of his near contentment, it decided to make sure he hadn’t been lulled into a false sense of complacency. He had guided Lizzie out of the middle of the crowd before he consciously registered the first whoosh and thump of the rocket. The brightly colored flashes of the fireworks were nearly gone before he computed that there was no threat.

  “Oh!” Lizzie was among the enchanted. Through the haze of adrenaline coursing through Adam’s bloodstream, he noted her shining eyes and parted lips. She looked like she was having an orgasm, while his heart was beating triple speed and his breath couldn’t keep up—and didn’t that just piss him off. He was ready to crawl under the nearest picnic table, and she was holding his hand, straining to get a better look.

  He knew he was overreacting, that the fireworks were a trigger. His therapist had made him practice breathing through this shit, but he was still pissed off. He needed to leave.

  As a few more fireworks filled the night sky, he reached for his phone with his free hand. He’d find Talbott and Jake and use the dogs as an excuse to leave. The problem was, they’d beaten him to it. There was a text telling him that they’d left, taking the car and the dogs, and hopefully he could get a ride home from Lizzie, since it sure looked like he was about to get lucky.

  He cursed, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Maybe he could find his sister. He hoped she hadn’t taken Granddad home already.

  “What’s wr—Oh.” The knowing sympathy in Lizzie’s eyes made the frustration and anger settle more deeply in Adam’s gut. “Why don’t we go?” she suggested. Or at least that’s what he thought she said. He couldn’t hear much over the buzzing in his ears, now that the explosions had ended.

  “I’m okay. But Jake and Talbott bailed. Can you, uh, give me a ride home?” he asked, now feeling needy and pathetic in addition to chickenshit.

  She was unfazed, though. “Of course. Let’s go.” She took the lead, holding tightly to his hand as she wound through the people on the lawn toward the food vendors that bordered the square. They squeezed between a funnel cake truck and a corn on the cob booth to the street beyond.

  As they squeezed out of the lights and noise into the darkness, Lizzie nearly tripped over a pair of legs sticking out from und
er a food truck. She stopped in her tracks, and Adam nearly plowed her over as she bent at the waist to see what was going on.

  “Get the fuck out here,” came a harsh, muffled voice attached to the legs.

  “What are you doing? Stop that!” Lizzie scolded.

  “The dog won’t come out,” explained a woman standing nearby. Adam recognized the pregnant woman from the Dairy Queen. Crystal was even more pregnant, if that was possible.

  “Get out here, you pussy dog.” Clint scooted backward, a tree branch in one hand, yanking hard on the nylon lead he held in the other.

  The blood in Adam’s veins went nuclear when the asshole dragged a half-grown brown-and-white pit bull pup from beneath the truck, the metal spikes from its prong collar digging into the pup’s neck.

  Adam’s vision narrowed to pinpoint, focusing squarely on the man and dog. Blood surged in his veins, flooding his muscles with a desperate need to move. He yanked his hand from Lizzie’s and stalked forward, staring down at the now kneeling Clint, who blinked up in surprise.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  Chapter 21

  Crystal screamed when Adam grabbed her boyfriend by the neck and jerked him to his feet. He slammed Clint into the back of the food truck and pinned him there with one arm, the other drawn back in a fist.

  “Adam, no!” Lizzie leapt forward to grab his arm. He brushed her off with a jerk of his shoulder, but at least he didn’t hit the guy. Instead, he got right up into his face. “What do you think you’re doing?” he ground out between clenched teeth.

  Clint’s face was red, and his eyes bulged.

  “Oh my God!” Crystal cried. “Let him go! You’re killing him!”

  Adam ignored her and growled into Clint’s face. “I should kill you. Now talk.”