Second Burn Cowboy
2014 Rhonda Lee Carver
Copyright © 2014 by Rhonda Lee Carver
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States
Published by Rhonda Lee Carver
Cover Art by Samantha Holt
Second Burn Cowboy
Book 6, Second Chance Series
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidences are a fabrication of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, establishments, events, or locales is coincidental.
Dedication:
To my family
CHAPTER ONE
HOW AM I roped into these things?
Deckland Brooke clicked the windshield wipers on high as the rain came down in a waterfall, making visibility next to impossible. Every few minutes high-pitched beeps sounded over the radio station with a tornado warning for the area. He had a feeling Mother Nature was pissed off and he was smack-dab in the middle of her temper tantrum. Thankfully, his 4x4 was built tough, and she stayed steady on the road.
Looking at the leaning trees along the street, he sighed and scrubbed his jaw. This certainly wasn’t a good time for a craving.
Peyton and April had sent him out to grab tirami-something-or-other. He had no clue what it was, but apparently Elsa had a box waiting at her bakery and his sisters-in-law had to have it or else. He always wondered what the “else” meant. Coming from two pregnant women with hormonal issues and a non-stop chocolate hankering, he thought it best not to ask.
He should have stopped at the grocery store off the highway and picked up goodies from their in-house bakery. He’d preferred it over seeing Elsa but with all the talk about Elsa’s Fluff pastries being the best, he was certain he’d only wreak havoc not getting what the ladies wanted.
Once again, how did he end up on the raw end of this?
He’d only agreed to watch over Peyton and April, not signed up as their devoted servant. But hell, he shouldn’t complain. Dante and Dillon would be home in the morning and Deckland would be back to the old grind—working, working and more work. He hoped his brothers enjoyed their mini-vacation, even if going to the auction hadn’t been their choice.
His thoughts moved to the owner of the bakery, Elsa Matthews. They’d met a few months ago, if that’s what he could call the awkward encounter. His grip automatically tightened on the steering wheel and his gut clenched as he recalled the night of Dante and April’s engagement party. His brother had gotten his boxers in a bunch over something or other, which led to an argument with April and they’d disappeared in a huff. The party had ended with a bang, literally. Luckily, the couple made up and was happily married.
The party guests had left abruptly, and Deckland and Elsa were the only two remaining. He’d helped her pack boxes of uneaten cupcakes and, when she’d tried to start the old van, it was dead. He’d offered to take her home, or take a look under the hood, but she’d insisted on calling a tow truck. He knew some women liked their independence.
Not wanting to come across as pushy, and partially not minding the company of a beautiful woman, he’d offered her a beer and leftover food.
After a few longnecks and easy chatter about the weather and why sushi was never a good choice for a buffet, the slow songs drifting from the radio had been too inviting to ignore. He’d asked her to dance, something he didn’t do very often.
Big mistake. One that he’d remember for a long time to come. But tonight he wasn’t going to take a stroll down memory lane.
Scraping his thoughts clean of what they’d shared, or what they didn’t share, he concentrated on the flooding streets. He made a silent wish that the road toward the ranch didn’t wash out. The thought of sleeping in his truck for the night didn’t entice him.
He should be home watching the weather channel, not in the middle of a torrential downpour. However, he could be at the ranch, surrounded by two pregnant women and their raging hormones. He was probably safer out in the storm.
The vibration in his pocket made him frown. He could only guess who was trying to reach him. Pulling out his cell, he slowed the truck as he read the text from April.
“Grab some mini-cupcakes too. Thanks. A.”
Growling, he dropped his phone on the passenger seat. His brothers had warned him to prepare for numerous “craving” trips, but this was ridiculous. He was now the official snack runner. Earlier it was pickled eggs. He’d made a jaunt to the local farmer’s market and grabbed every jar they had, but by the time he got back twenty minutes later, the women had settled for scrambled eggs and couldn’t eat another bite. Disgruntled that his effort was shot down, he’d sat down with a jar and a fork and switched on ESPN. Hell, he didn’t even like pickled eggs.
If a damn tornado did come tonight, at least he’d be the one blown away and not Peyton and April. He couldn’t let anything happen to them. They had become the sisters he never had.
Hearing the beeping on the radio alerting another weather update, Deckland reached to turn up the volume. He lifted his gaze just as a black blob darted in front of him.
“Shit!” He slammed on the brakes and the big truck tires slid on the wet pavement until finally coming to a sideways stop. Rolling down the window, he skimmed the area, ready to let loose on the idiot who almost caused a serious accident, but he couldn’t see anything beyond ten feet through the heavy shower. Closing the window and wiping the rain from his face, he mumbled a string of curse words. The jogger was lucky Deckland didn’t hit him.
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he dropped his hand as he realized something wasn’t right. Who would be out in this weather running and wearing all black? He darted a glance down the darkened street, scanning the blurred fronts of the businesses. Nothing seemed amiss, at least from what he could see.
He jerked as a flash of orange-red burst from the top of a building at the end of the street. “What the—?” Flames shot out of the roof, lighting the murky night.
Elsa’s Fluff.
Air swooshed from his lungs.
Sliding his truck into park, he threw open his door.
Jumping out, he landed in an ankle deep puddle, splashing the cold water on his jeans. He raced up the street, barely registering that his hat flew off.
Drops of rain pelted him, stinging his face and eyes, clouding his vision.
By the time he made it to the sidewalk, his clothes were soaked and clinging to his skin.
He was running so fast he came to a sliding stop before crashing into the doors to the bakery. His breathing was heavy in his ears as his adrenaline spiked. He peered through the glass, gauging the situation. The lights were on and he could see black smoke and flames rolling from the back of the store.
Instinct kicked in. He tried the handle, but it was locked and the closed sign was up. Elsa had been waiting for him. She was in the bakery, he knew.
Glancing down the sidewalk, he spotted a cigarette receptacle. He grabbed the heavy vessel and threw it through one door. The glass crashed around him, nicking his skin.
He wasted no time. Leaping through the jagged opening, broken glass crunched under his boots as he made his way across the tiled floor. The smoke was growing heavier and his breathing became labored. His eyes throbbed and he lifted his hand, using it as a shield. He still couldn’t see through the haze.
Tearing his shirt from his torso, he covered his face and made his way closer to the back where flames shot out from the cracks of the double doors. The heat singed the hair on his arms, and he hoped Elsa wasn’t in the kitchen when the fire had started. Where could she be?
&n
bsp; His mind raced with fear. The only other time he’d known such an emotion was when he’d gotten word that his parents had died.
No one could live through the fire that was now covering more than half the building.
Red fingers of flame inched over the walls, melting everything in its way with an intensity that trumped anything one could imagine.
Framed pictures on the wall sizzled, split then fell to the floor in a clatter. Electrical outlets popped and sparked. A strong smell of boiling material scorched his nose.
The overhead lights flickered twice then everything went dark.
The fire lit the space with an eerie golden glow. The ceiling creaked and wood cracked in warning. His lungs ached and his chest became heavy. He realized he didn’t have much time.
He ignored an inner voice telling him to rush back where he came and instead slowly made his way toward the fire when he heard a stifled voice
Was this his imagination?
“Help! Back here!” He heard it again, low but clear.
Rounding the counter, he skipped his gaze through the shadows until he saw movement. Elsa was sprawled out, one hand covering her head. Deckland dropped to his knees beside her. “It’ll be okay. I’ll get you out of here.” Scooping her up in his arms, he held her tight against his chest. “Take my shirt and cover your face.”
She did as he requested, looking at him over the material, eyes wide with terror. “My—my place. It’s on fire. We have to put out the fire,” she said in a muffled voice.
Deckland pulled her closer, protecting her the best he could from the accosting smoke. He didn’t have the heart to tell her the fire was already out of control and if they didn’t hurry, the shop wouldn’t be the only thing it claimed.
He rushed toward the entrance as pieces of the ceiling crumbled around them. A large, burning clump fell in his path and he kicked it out of his way. The smoke thickened and he couldn’t see, but he continued through the cloud until he saw the beam of the outside security light. He carefully stepped through the broken glass.
Stepping into fresh air, they both sputtered and coughed. He sucked oxygen into his parched lungs.
Bystanders were now standing in the street and on the sidewalk. Sirens loomed in the distance.
Two men dashed forward. “Is there anyone else inside?” one of them asked.
“No,” Elsa said in a husky voice.
The other man reached out. “Here, let me help with her.”
Deckland shook his head and stepped past. He couldn’t just hand her off to a stranger.
Not wanting to lay her in the rain, Deckland carried her to his truck, opened the passenger door and carefully placed her on the seat. Her head rolled back, and he gazed into blue eyes filled with moisture. Streaks of smoke and dirt marred her long blonde hair and pale cheeks.
“The fire truck is on its way.” He stood next to her, not willing to leave her side until help had arrived.
“It’s too late to save anything. It’s all gone.” A tear slid from one eye and down her temple, disappearing into her hairline. His heart skipped a beat. Taking her slender hand into his, he offered her comfort but knew it helped very little as she watched her business become engulfed in flames.
He ticked his gaze over her, looking for any signs that she was hurt. “I don’t see any cuts. No broken bones.”
She lifted herself straighter in the leather seat. “I’m okay, I think. I must have fallen while I was trying to put out the fire.” She brought her hand to her head. “I woke up to the sound of crashing glass and lots of smoke. I can’t believe you came when you did.”
“I’m glad I was close.”
“I heard something in the back and seconds later I heard a loud bang. The fire…it spread so fast.” Her breathing was heavy.
“Is there anyone I should call for you?” She gave her head a quick shake. “Okay, then. Try and breathe easy.” He patted her shoulder with his free hand while he kept the other entangled with hers. Swirls of red feathered across the buildings and through the darkness as a fire truck and ambulance screamed up the street and came to a stop in front of his truck. “Help is here. You’ll be okay.”
Her grip tightened on his fingers.
“Thank you, Deckland.” Her eyes spoke volumes—more than just fright. Did she recall the passionate kiss they’d shared months ago? Even though this wasn’t the most suitable moment to remember, he certainly couldn’t forget the fervency between them.
Panicked voices sounded in the street while firefighters rushed to the sidewalk. He watched them pull on their safety hats and prepare the hoses. Paramedics exited their vehicle, searching the growing crowd. “Over here,” Deckland called out.
“Excuse us, sir. We’ll take it from here.”
Deckland was pushed aside by an EMT who immediately hooked Elsa up to oxygen.
Taking a step back, Deckland and Elsa’s tangled fingers parted. She watched him with uncertainty in her gaze and guilt spread through him.
A tug on his elbow pulled his attention away from the action at the truck. A uniformed officer was standing at his side. “Sir, were you here when the fire started?”
“No, I came after.”
“Did you go into the building?
“Yes,” Deckland answered.
“You’re bleeding.” The officer pointed.
Deckland looked down at his hand. His knuckles were stained red and blood dripped onto his boots. “I had to break the glass to get inside.”
The officer motioned to the other emergency worker, who quickly came. “Sir, were you in the fire?” the EMT asked, reaching for Deckland’s hand. “This is a bad cut.”
“I went in and brought the owner out.”
“Can I ask you to step over to the ambulance so I can examine your hand and listen to your lungs?”
Deckland looked passed the EMT to Elsa. The oxygen cup covered half of her face. “Is she going to be okay?”
“She’s doing fine. Now we need to get you looked at too.” The worker was already leading him across the street to the parked ambulance.
Sitting on the back of the vehicle, Deckland waited while the EMT did a quick evaluation. Everything seemed to pass in a whirlwind as his adrenaline finally started to slow.
“You’re going to need a couple of stitches, but I’ll put a wrap on that’ll do you until you get to the hospital,” the EMT said. “Your lungs sound clear.”
“Care if I ask you a few questions while she wraps you up?” The officer already had his paper and pen out.
“Sure, but first…” Deckland scanned the area, got up and crossed the street. He picked up his hat from the wet asphalt, turned it over and dumped out the water. Knocking it against his thigh a few times, he placed it back on his head and went back to the ambulance. Noticing the officer’s curious gaze, Deckland shrugged. “A cowboy needs his hat, especially when it’s his favorite.”
The officer nodded his understanding. “I won’t keep you long so you can get that hand taken care of, but since you were here before anyone, I need to ask some basics.”
“Not sure I can add much to the situation, but I’ll try.” He looked over his shoulder at Elsa, who still sat in his truck. Gazes connected, and his heart pitched.
“Ready, sir?”
Deckland turned away, and focused on the officer, dutifully answering every question while the storm passed.
Before he went to the hospital, he called his sisters-in-law and told them the bad news. No chocolate for them tonight.
****
Elsa sat on the edge of the hospital bed, her legs dangling over the side as the straitlaced officer asked her questions about the fire. He jotted something in his notebook, scratched his forehead then brought his beady gaze back on her. She shifted uneasily.
“So, you heard someone?”
“How many more times must I repeat what happened?” Her patience thinned. Officer Unfriendly made her skin crawl, and the unflattering thin gown only made her more uncomfor
table.
“These are important questions, ma’am.” There was no sign of understanding in the officer’s expression. “Now, again, did you hear someone?”
“Officer Un—I mean—Downs, I’ve told you. I had closed for the evening but I was filling an order for a customer when a noise came from the back of the store. Before I could investigate, I heard a loud bang followed by a strong smell of smoke. I realized the kitchen was on fire, I hurried and grabbed the fire extinguisher and I fell. Everything went blank until I woke up to Deckland rescuing me.”
“Deckland Brooke?”
“Yes. He was picking up the order I mentioned,” she explained.
“Do you have any enemies?” He looked down his nose at her. “You haven’t had the business long, right? I bet it’s very expensive starting up a bakery.”
“Less than a year.” Her temples throbbed and she was tired. “And yes, it wasn’t cheap.”
“Did you burn someone’s cake?” His sneer made her go cold.
She was to the end of her rope with the innuendos. “No one would have motive to burn my business down. Do you have reason to believe someone intentionally started the fire? Maybe a clue or evidence? And is my bakery completely destroyed?”
With a sigh, Officer Downs closed his notebook and dropped it into his front pocket with finality. He stood up and straightened his hat, his jaw loosening some. “Firefighters were able to put out the fire before it spread to the surrounding shops, but there’s nothing left of the bakery. I don’t have any news on how it started, yet, but we’ll keep you notified. We’ve had a lot of business owners in the area deliberately starting fires for insurance money. With the failing economy and all.”
Elsa choked back a sob. She wouldn’t allow her emotions to get the best of her in front of the stranger. He showed no compassion for her plight, not that she expected or wanted sympathy, but a little kindness would help. “I assure you that is not the case in this circumstance.”
Once the officer turned his back, she had a strong urge to flip him off, but refrained. Going to jail wouldn’t make her predicament any easier.
Second Burn Cowboy (Second Chance Series Book 6) Page 1
