Her Second Chance Hometown Groom

by Amelia C. Adams

  Todd chuckled. “The day you can take me, you might as well put me six feet under. Life’s not worth living if I can’t tackle one of my own sons.” He grabbed Austin in a headlock and tousled his hair. Austin could have broken the hold easily, but chose not to, enjoying the moment. It was good to be home even if he didn’t like having his hair messed with.

  The back door opened and a stream of men came in, laughing and hollering. “Hey, whose fancy sports car is that out front?” one of them called.

  “Can’t be ours. We aren’t that citified,” another replied.

  Austin stepped over and gave each of his four brothers a hug, clapping them on their shoulders. “Hey, what have you all been up to since I left? Not showering, that’s obvious.”

  “Thank you,” Melinda said dryly. “A voice of reason at last.”

  “Oh, come on, Mom,” Chad, Austin’s oldest brother, said. “We shower. Who do you think dirties up all the towels around here?”

  “I think you take them outside, roll them around on the stable floor, and then dump them in my hamper,” she retorted. “That’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Kyle chimed in. “I always squirt mine off with the garden hose before I pass it along.”

  “You’re so gross.” The brothers’ heads turned as Maggie, their little sister, came into the house and pulled the door closed behind her. “I thought you’d grow out of it when you got out of high school, but I think you’re even worse now.”

  Todd chuckled. “Such is the lot of an only daughter. Come on, sweetheart—let’s set the table while your brothers clean up.”

  “If it’s possible for them to clean up. The only remotely decent-looking one is Austin. Oh, hey, Austin,” she said as though noticing him for the first time. “When did you get here?”

  “Just now.”

  “Is that your fancy set of wheels out there?”

  “Rental car. I can’t wait to give it back to the airport.”

  “I bet. It’s got snooty-patootie written all over it.” Maggie tossed her auburn braid over her shoulder. “Glad you’re here. Maybe now we can get some real work done on the barn roof.”

  “What’s the matter with it?”

  “It’s got a leak, but your brothers seem to think it’s not that big of a priority. Something about getting the horses ready for next season . . . even though it’s December. They’re just being lazy.” She shook her head, reminding Austin very much of their mother. “And that one . . .” She waggled her finger at Todd.

  “What—is Dad slacking off on his chores too?” Austin asked with a grin on his face, but his expression faltered when he noticed how still the room became.

  “Boys, go clean up,” Melinda ordered. “Your father and I need to have a talk with Austin.”

  The room cleared out faster than Austin would have thought possible. Maggie mumbled something about grabbing a tablecloth, and she disappeared too.

  “Son, have a seat,” Todd said, motioning toward the kitchen table.

  Austin’s chest clenched. No good conversation ever started that way. He pulled out a chair and sat, Melinda and Todd on either side of him.

  “I had a little incident this fall,” Todd said. “It was minor, nothing serious, but I do have to take it easier now.”

  “What kind of incident?” Austin asked. Tingles ran up and down his spine—foreboding.

  “Angina. I’ve been put on some medication—”

  “Wait.” Austin held up a hand. “Angina? Isn’t that your heart?”

  “Yes. It means my heart’s not getting enough oxygen-rich blood. It sort of feels like indigestion—that’s what I thought it was at first.” Todd chuckled. “I don’t know how many bottles of Tums I went through before your mother talked me into making an appointment.”

  Austin clenched his fists under the table, trying to deflect his anxiety and keep it out of his voice. “Tell me more. Help me understand what’s going on.”

  “Angina’s a symptom of an underlying condition. In your father’s case, he has what they call MVD, or coronary microvascular disease. They almost didn’t catch it because it occurs more commonly in women, but they figured it out, and he’s being treated.”

  “But . . . what does this mean?” Austin turned back to Todd. “Are we talking about you dying?”

  “Not if I take things easier and stay on my medication,” Todd reassured him. “I’ve turned the ranch over to Chad, and he’s running things just like I would if I were still up to snuff. Everything’s fine, son.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You were having such a great winning streak. We didn’t want to distract you,” Melinda replied.

  “I don’t care about winning streaks. We’re talking about family right now—I would have left football behind to come home, to be here for you.”

  “Exactly, and we felt you should be in San Antonio. We weren’t trying to shut you out. The fact is, you’ve got a whole future to think about, a whole career, and you’ve got to invest in it now so it can pay off later.”

  “Football doesn’t matter, Dad,” Austin insisted. “You do.”

  Todd clapped his hand on Austin’s shoulder. “It means the world to hear you say that, son. For a father to hear that his children love him—there is no better paycheck. But I know how much football means to you. I remember that night when you came in here after a full day of helping me with the horses and told me that you really didn’t think you were cut out for this life. Just a sophomore in high school, and you knew what you wanted—you wanted to play in the NFL. That’s not too common around here.”

  Austin chuckled. “No, it’s not.”

  “To be honest, I thought you’d lost your senses, but then I watched you devote yourself to football with a dedication I’ve never seen in anybody. You got up before dawn so you could go running before school. You stayed after and pounded it out in the school gym. You made moving hay bales here at home part of your workout routine. Every minute of every day, you were focused on football, and your mother and I said, if he’s that committed, that’s what he needs to be doing.”

  “I do love the game,” Austin said, remembering those days. He had never found an exercise to beat hefting those hay bales around. “I still would have liked to know.”

  “Well, maybe we did the wrong thing,” Melinda replied. “But you know we did it out of love.”

  “I do know that.” Austin pulled in a deep breath and exhaled. What would he do if something happened to his dad? Yeah, Todd was on medication, but that wasn’t a sure fix, and Austin’s stomach started to gnaw with worry. “You mind if I go for a ride? I need to get out into some Wyoming winter sunshine for a little bit.”

  “You go right ahead. Dinner will be ready at six.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I can’t tell you how good it is to be home—just wish I could be here longer.”

  “We’ll take whatever we can get. When you’re done with your ride, let’s talk about your visit—you have to be back on the twenty-second, right?”

  “That’s right—by noon at the latest. We have practice that night to start getting ready for our Christmas Eve game.”

  Melinda sighed. “It’s too bad you can’t stay through the holiday, but we’ll make the most of it.”

  Austin left his parents sitting at the table, grabbed his jacket, and went outside. Then he paused, standing on the porch, trying to make sense out of everything he’d just heard. His dad was sick . . . the man he’d always thought of as a bear, an indestructible force of nature . . .

  He stepped off the porch and walked toward the barn. His jacket should be enough to ward off the chill as he rode, but if it wasn’t, he doubted it would bother him much. Sometimes a man’s thoughts burned hot enough that he never noticed the temperature.

  Chad was in the barn when he got there, stacking some fifty-pound sacks of grain in the corner. Austin went to his side and helped him. Sacks of grain were great for building muscle too.<
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  “Mom and Dad just told me,” Austin said after a minute, pausing and leaning against the wall. “And you’re the big boss now.”

  “That’s what they call me, but we all know it’s not true,” Chad replied. “Dad will always be the boss around here.”

  “I should quit the team and come home,” Austin went on. “You’re a man down for the count, and this is where I belong—the Mayhews always come first with me.”

  Chad held up both hands. “No. We’re not even discussing this. You belong in San Antonio—you belong on that field. I’ve seen you play, both on the high school team and on TV, and there’s a light in your eyes that I’ve never seen anywhere else. If you gave that up . . . Well, let’s face it. If you gave that up to come back here and help run the ranch, it would be just like one of those sappy romance movies Mom and Maggie are always watching, and I don’t think we want to see it come to that.”

  “No, I guess not,” Austin said with a chuckle.

  “And another thing, little brother . . . You’re no good at the horse business. You can ride and you can saddle and you can feed ’em and brush ’em, but when it comes to training ’em . . . Leave that to the rest of us. And definitely, definitely leave the rodeos to Trevor and Shawn. We’ve all got our strengths, and we need to play to them.”

  Austin nodded. When he looked at things realistically, it was true—his help wasn’t needed here. His real reason for coming home would be spending time with his dad.

  He didn’t want his dad to die while he was hundreds of miles away.

  There . . . Now he was being honest with himself. If something happened to his dad and he didn’t make it back in time . . .

  He sat down heavily on a nearby hay bale. “It’s been hard for me, being so far away from home.”

  In a gesture that reminded him so much of his father, Chad clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I know. It’s been hard for us too—we were raised pretty tight knit. I wouldn’t change it, though. The tighter the knit, the stronger the net.”

  Austin grinned. “You’re starting quoting Grandma now?”

  “Hey, I can’t help it. She knew what she was talking about.”

  “Yeah, I guess she did.” Austin passed a hand down his face. “So, I’m supposed to head back to San Antonio like nothing’s going on here at home?”

  “No, you’re supposed to head back to San Antonio like a man with a purpose. Get in there, end that losing streak, and give your dad some more bragging rights down at the hardware store.”

  “We lost two games. I’m still trying to decide if that really counts as a streak.”

  “Streak or not, you should hear the guys in town. Jake’s sure the end of the world is upon us, and Tommy’s decided that you somehow angered a voodoo witch and she’s put a curse on you. He told Dad he’s ready to throw away his Rebels mug and start rooting for the Wave.”

  Austin put a hand on his chest. “That hurts, man. That really hurts.”

  Chad shrugged. “I’m just telling you what he said. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

  “Trust me, I know we lost some support in that game.”

  “Yeah, that was when he started talking about voodoo curses. Why don’t you stop by while you’re here and show them that you’re perfectly fine—no needles sticking out of the back of your neck or whatever.”

  Austin laughed. “Don’t voodoo witches put needles in dolls, not people?”

  “I don’t know—I’ve never studied up on it. I’ve got a ranch to run.” Chad clapped Austin on the shoulder again. “I bet I know why you came out here, and it wasn’t just to talk to me. Want to ride?”

  “I do, actually, but you being here was nice. I needed to get that off my chest.” Austin paused. “You know that if you ever change your mind and want me here, all you have to do is say the word.”

  “And if you ever get yourself some horse training skills, maybe I will. For now, though, we’re all doing what we’re supposed to be doing.” He met Austin’s eyes seriously. “If Dad takes a turn for the worse, you’re the first call I’m making. I promise.”

  “Thanks.” That was the only word Austin could force out, but it was the only one he needed.

  He walked down the length of the barn, peering into the stalls. “There you are,” he said at last, reaching Daisy Mae. “I was starting to wonder.”

  “She’s had a rough few months, but she’s fine now if you’re looking for a peaceful ride,” Chad said, coming up behind him.

  “Tomorrow I’ll go for something faster, but peaceful suits me for today.” Austin opened the gate and led her out, then grabbed a saddle blanket. He went through the steps of saddling her slowly, methodically, his hands working of their own accord without needing much guidance from his brain. He’d been saddling horses since he was seven years old, before he ever held a football for the first time. He might not be as skilled as his brothers, but it was in his DNA too.

  Once Daisy Mae was ready to go, he led her outside, swung himself into the saddle, and nudged her forward. That familiar rolling motion of her gait reminded him of being on a boat. Not everyone enjoyed riding horses—some claimed they couldn’t stand the saddle sores—but every bit of it was worth it to him.

  He and the horse got along quite well as they rode along. Horses make perfect companions when someone just wants to think. He followed the fence line to the edge of the property, then turned and rode parallel to the road.

  The wind was starting to pick up, and despite his earlier thoughts that he wouldn’t get cold, he could feel it. He should have grabbed a heavier coat from his closet in the house—his mother would never get rid of his things “just in case” he needed them. She was pretty smart.

  Just as he’d turned to head back, he heard the sound of a truck coming down the road, and he paused to see who it was. They didn’t get a lot of traffic out that way, one of the reasons why their father loved this location.

  It was Angela Dingle.

  Well, now.

  Instead of riding back to the house like he’d planned, he waited, wondering what she wanted. Hadn’t she made it abundantly clear that she never wanted to see him again? And now here she was, jouncing up the road as though they were still good buddies. That was why he found women so confusing.

  She slowed the truck as she drew nearer to him, bringing it to a stop and climbing out when she reached him. She walked up to the fence and folded her arms on the top rail. “Hey there.”

  “Hey there yourself.”

  “I . . .” She pressed her lips together and looked away, then looked back to meet his eyes. “Could I talk to you for a few minutes?”

  He chuckled. “You’ve decided you want to talk to me? I thought I was an unwelcome reminder of your undesirable upbringing.”

  “You need . . . You need to let that go, all right? Can we just have a polite conversation for a few minutes?”

  She seemed agitated, maybe even more so than she had at the party. It probably wouldn’t be the best idea to point out that she’d been the impolite one. He gave a short nod. “Meet me at the house in a few minutes. I’ll put the horse up and join you there.”

  She nodded, climbed back in her truck, and drove off, turning up the lane that led to the house. He watched her go for a moment, then nudged Daisy Mae to go forward again. He needed a few minutes to collect his thoughts, and ambling along on an old horse seemed like just the thing.

  Chapter 4

  Angela tried not to fume, but it was difficult. Austin had looked so . . . so smug and superior. Of course, someone up on horseback would look superior to someone standing on the ground, but the horse had nothing to do with it. It was Austin’s attitude—his infuriating attitude.

  She pulled up in front of the main house and sat there, taking deep breaths. She’d tried a few yoga classes to see if she could learn how to control her inner turmoil, but she’d learned those only worked for some people. She was one of the “other” ones, those whose spirits or energies or whatever were so chaotic, t
hey couldn’t seem to calm down no matter what. Her instructors told her to focus harder, but that just gave her a headache on top of everything else.

  After a moment, she slid down from the truck. She didn’t want to be here, she didn’t want to have this conversation, she didn’t even want to be in Wyoming, but if she wanted a career, she had to push through. One of the sacrifices she’d have to make for success.

  She planned to wait by the truck until Austin got back to the house, but the door opened, and Melinda Mayhew stepped onto the porch.

  “Angela? What are you doing out there in the cold? Come inside.”

  As awkward as it was, she smiled and accepted Melinda’s offer. It would be impossible to refuse the woman’s warmth and hospitality. Before she knew it, she was seated at the counter with a mug of hot chocolate in front of her.

  “I can’t tell you how proud I am of you,” Melinda told her, taking a seat too. “I look back on your high school days and how young you and Austin were once upon a time, and now you’re both famous.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Angela said, feeling a little embarrassed. “I’m with such a small network—you can’t even see me unless you have satellite.”

  “Which we do, and we watch every chance we get.” Melinda smiled. “You may not be where you want to be right now, but you’re taking huge steps toward that goal. It’s obvious that you were made to be in front of the camera, and it’s just a matter of time before you hit the big time.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Mayhew.” Angela couldn’t help but think back on all the encouraging words Austin’s mother had said to her over the years. She’d been there for Angela in so many ways—ways her own mother couldn’t be. Or refused to be …

  The door opened and Austin came in, along with a cold draft that skittered across the floor. “Wind’s picking up out there,” he said. “Smells like snow, too.”

  “It’s about time. I’ve been wondering if we were going to get our white Christmas this year.” Melinda looked back and forth between Austin and Angela. “Looks like the two of you have some things to talk about. I’ll just go sort some socks or some other mindless task in the other room where I will have no chance whatsoever of eavesdropping accidently. Austin, there’s more hot chocolate.”