Brisa bit back her immediate argument and exchanged a glance with Marisol. Her stepmother had been her biggest ally all these years Reyna had been stationed elsewhere with the Air Force. Ironing out a relationship with her father’s third wife had taken some time, but Marisol had proven to be an ally in negotiations with Brisa’s father. Brisa’s mother sometimes remembered to send cards on birthdays, and her first stepmother was friendly enough now that Brisa and her sister were adults, but Marisol had stayed. Even faced with a teenage Brisa, she’d stayed. They were so close now, they could communicate without speaking. Her stepmom’s expression said, Be careful, but be strong.
It was good advice. Slipping back into her normal pattern with her father was easy, even if it didn’t fit perfectly. She loved him. He loved her. There was never any doubt about that.
Brisa squeezed her father’s hand. “Daddy, we tried using logic. You know that’s always Reyna’s first choice. When that failed, Montero stubbornness kicked in. Reyna deserves to live her dream. She wants to be a firefighter.” Her older sister had already been a decorated military officer and pilot so it made perfect sense she would need a big second career. Brisa wasn’t going to spend any more time resenting that. She was so happy to have Reyna home full-time that falling under her shadow again wasn’t an issue. “Just like I deserve a chance to run Concord Court. I can do this.” She was almost sure she could. With Reyna’s support and Sean Wakefield in his spot, taking care of the operations at the Court, and some luck, she could do this.
“Of course, you deserve this. You’ve been involved from the beginning, working at your father’s side,” Marisol agreed softly. “Your concept for the small business lab to support veteran-owned businesses? Genius. And nobody else came up with it.” Not Reyna. Not Luis Montero. Marisol didn’t add the last part, but the way her father frowned at his wife convinced Brisa he’d read between the lines.
“No more sneaking around. The two of you together...” He sighed. “I should have expected this, I suppose. You were always troublesome when you were together. The summer you plotted to build a tree house using the remnants of the old garden toolshed is hard to forget.”
“We never meant to make the gardener cry.” They’d wanted a place to paint and play and build and be free of the heavy weight of the Montero house’s expectations. Her father had always preferred furniture and architecture that carried the importance and richness of history. His second wife had even kept an interior designer on retainer for decor emergencies. Brisa and Reyna had been good at creating those emergencies.
“I’ll tell my gardener that when I meet with him next. I’m sure it will be a comfort to him, after all this time, that scaring him out of ten years of his life by falling out of the tree was only an accident, not an intentional decision.” Her father didn’t smile. He didn’t make jokes. Never had.
Brisa clamped her hand over her left wrist. Covering up the scar there from where she’d broken it during that fall was a nervous habit.
That scar was no one’s fault but her own. She’d begged Reyna to help her convince their father they needed a tree house. After he’d said no, Reyna had been determined they would do it on their own. Neither she nor her sister had understood the weakness of rotten wood at that point.
“I’ll be watching your work at Concord Court closely, daughter.” Her father dipped his chin and crooked his elbow. Marisol hugged Brisa before she slipped her hand through the bend in his arm. Their eyes met again and the quirk to her stepmother’s lips was sweet. Openly mocking her father was a step too far, but being amused by him was part of Brisa’s bond to Marisol.
“I’ll need your help, Daddy. You know that. I know it, too.” Brisa tipped her chin up. “But this is going to work.” It had to. The fact that she’d been working so hard to learn the ropes and even expand the programs offered at Concord Court should have been evidence of her capability. However, reminding her father that they’d been sneaking around under his nose that way was a terrible idea.
“I want it to, Brisa. This must be a new chapter for the Monteros.” He studied her face before nodding. “We’ll talk this week. Expect me on Monday.”
Marisol winked and they disappeared inside the cocktail bar.
Brisa braced her arms on the rooftop’s wall. “Great job, Brisa. You plan parties better than anyone I know. String music at sunset with a view of the ocean was a nice change from the club. You’ve done it again. Everything went off without a hitch, even though I don’t pay you to do this.” Brisa threw her arms out. “In fact, I don’t even ask you to do this anymore. I just assume you owe me your unpaid labor.”
Because I pay all your bills.
Brisa’s shoulders slumped as she realized that being irritated at her father’s treatment of her and expectations was weakened spectacularly because the unspoken part had been true for too long.
“Is this a conversation anyone can join?” a man asked from behind her. Brisa took a minute to set her smile in place. Being rude to one of her father’s friends wouldn’t help her case at this point. This wasn’t the first time one of them had hung around to introduce himself. Politely brushing off dinner invitations had grown much easier over the years.
As she turned, their eyes locked and it took longer than Brisa liked to realize who he was. He had on a nice but unremarkable suit with a dark tie and a plain watch. In this crowd, clothes shouted money. His said he worked hard for a living that didn’t include custom suits.
This wasn’t the first time she’d noticed him that evening, but it had always been a split second before the nerves over her announcement that she was stepping up to lead at Concord Court had washed over her and she would lose sight of him in the crowd.
That itch in her brain that convinced her she knew him, but couldn’t recall his name returned.
Then she realized who he was.
The suit had confused her. His hard stare had thrown her off. In his Military Match profile, Wade McNally had worn the Navy’s khaki service uniform. She remembered dark hair with touches of silver at the temples. Dark eyes. Impressive career as a Navy surgeon. Firm jaw and the implacable expression her sister sometimes used to put people in their place. He was the man she’d chosen for Reyna, the future date who would act as Reggie did, and thwart their father’s matchmaking attempts to form dynastic unions with other well-meaning corporate elites.
But what was he doing here?
Copyright © 2021 by Cheryl Harper
Love Harlequin romance?
DISCOVER.
Be the first to find out about promotions, news and exclusive content!
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
Instagram.com/HarlequinBooks
Pinterest.com/HarlequinBooks
ReaderService.com
EXPLORE.
Sign up for the Harlequin e-newsletter and download a free book from any series at
TryHarlequin.com
CONNECT.
Join our Harlequin community to share your thoughts and connect with other romance readers!
Facebook.com/groups/HarlequinConnection
ISBN-13: 9781488074486
Second Chance Cowboy
Copyright © 2021 by Claire Haiken
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
For questions and comments about the quality of this book, please contact us at CustomerService@Harle
quin.com.
Harlequin Enterprises ULC
22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor
Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada
www.Harlequin.com
Second Chance Cowboy--A Clean Romance Page 23