Second Chance Ranch: a Hope Springs novel (Entangled Bliss)

by Cindi Madsen

  A cool breeze floated over them, swirling strands of Sadie’s hair around her face. “What I’m saying is, it’s a good thing, what you’re doing here. I saw it when I came over back in high school, of course, I just didn’t realize how intensive and challenging it was.”

  Yeah, she knew how to talk, but she also knew how to genuinely listen. So he said the thing he constantly thought but always held in. “I’m not as good at it as my dad was. And no matter how hard I try, I never will be. I’m just trying not to completely screw up his legacy.”

  Sadie stopped and turned to face him. “You’re good at it, Royce. Way better than you give yourself credit for.” She reached out and squeezed his arm. His eyes met hers and he swallowed, too aware of the freckles across the bridge of her nose and the way his skin hummed under her touch. “You’re not screwing it up. In fact, to put it in cowboy terms the way your dad or my grandpa would”—she cleared her throat—“you’re doin’ a damn fine job.” He assumed the low, half-growly way she said it was her impression of a dude. Who knew that a mock guy voice could sound so cute? She smirked, one eyebrow arching higher than the other. “Take that, swear jar!”

  “Thanks,” he said with a smile, and the dull ache that’d risen up faded away. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed to hear that.

  She dropped her hand, and his arm suddenly felt cold and empty.

  Focus, Dixon. Don’t even think about kissing her. He couldn’t stop staring at her lips now, though. Remembering the way she used to sigh when he kissed her. He quickly stepped past her, glad they were so close to the bushes.

  “I’ve got an extra knife you can—”

  “Give me some credit,” she said, pulling out a pocketknife and grabbing a branch. “I’m at least half prepared for tonight.” For a little while, they gathered sticks in silence. And whenever she turned around or bent over, he took advantage of the opportunity to check out her butt.

  Like he said before, old habits died hard.

  …

  Sadie glanced at Royce’s backside as she followed him to the now-glowing fire, a bundle of sticks in her hand. Earlier, when he’d thrown the coat in her face, he’d seemed mad at her, his expression and gruff words at odds with the fact that he’d noticed she was cold. While she was grateful for the warmth, she wasn’t going to just let him be a jerk to her. But when she’d been about to throw the coat back at him and stomp away, he’d softened again. Then things were easy, the way they used to be, and she swore they’d almost had a moment. She wasn’t sure if it was an I-don’t-completely-hate-you moment or something more.

  A glimmer of hope rose up. Maybe they could be friends. After all, she wasn’t sure how long she was going to stay in Hope Springs, and she could really use a friend as she figured out her messy life and got a game plan for the next step to get it back on the right track.

  Royce handed out the sticks to the kids, and she did the same with the ones she’d gathered. When they met in the middle, he actually smiled at her. Friends who kiss might be good.

  “Everyone grab a knife and get the end sharpened so you can cook your hot dog. And yes, Addison,” Royce said, glancing at the girl, “I remembered your veggie dogs, even though I had to drive to the next town over to get them.”

  The girl beamed at him, and Sadie was sure her expression matched. How could Royce think he wasn’t good at this? She settled on a log next to Cory, who was in a foldout chair, sliding a hot dog onto the end of an already sharpened stick.

  “How often do you guys do this?” she asked.

  “We usually work the kids pretty hard for the first three weeks. That seems to be the perfect amount of time for them to know what we expect and to learn most of what they need to know. Then we find we can ease back a little without losing control. If they work hard all week, we have these on Friday nights, and give them Saturday and Sunday off, all except for cooking. If one of them gets feisty or troublesome, they work while everyone else plays. It’s good motivation.”

  Sadie started carving the end of her stick, watching the pale wood shavings curl away and drift to the ground, while the scent of smoke and meat filled the air. “I’m glad Royce has you to help him out.” She bit her lip, thinking she shouldn’t meddle, but since when did that stop her? “He puts on a tough front, but how’s he really doing with running everything by himself and dealing with his dad’s death?”

  Cory glanced sideways at her. “Sadie, I’ve always liked you, and we’re still cool. But I’m not gettin’ in the middle of you two. You want to know, you ask him.”

  “You know he won’t tell me.” He’d hinted at struggling with the camp when they’d been gathering branches, but he’d shut it down pretty quickly, walking off before she could dig any deeper. “Can’t I worry about a friend?”

  One of Cory’s eyebrows arched, disappearing under the brim of his hat. “A friend?”

  Sadie’s shoulders sagged. “Fine. A work colleague.”

  “We both know it’s more than either of those things. He’s doing okay, and that’s all I’m sayin’. I’m not a chick and this ain’t no damn slumber party.”

  Sadie rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but smile. What was it with guys and their inability to admit that they actually had emotions?

  Royce came over and sat next to her on the log. She’d assumed he would go back to keeping his distance the rest of the night. Now here he was, sitting so close she could reach out and touch him. She became acutely aware of his knee resting against hers, and how he smelled like woods and hay and a hint of campfire. She watched the firelight dance on the planes of his face. He pushed up his sleeves, and then her attention was on the way the muscles in his forearms moved as he whittled the end of his branch into a point.

  When he finished, he handed her a hot dog. She slid it onto her stick and leaned forward, putting the end over the flames. Everyone all around them was doing the same thing, multiple conversations going on.

  The log rocked as Royce leaned forward. Sadie wobbled and his arm came around her waist. “Careful,” he said, his lips so close to her ear that goose bumps broke out across her skin. Then she turned her head and looked into his brown, brown eyes.

  He dropped his arm and moved his focus to his roasting hot dog. Then he turned to Cory and they started talking about whether or not the hay in the back field was ready to rake. It was like high school, only she, Royce, and Cory would’ve been around a bonfire somewhere else, drinking cheap beer and discussing the last or next rodeo.

  And Royce’s hand would be clamped onto her thigh, and she’d have her head on his shoulder.

  “Now what do we do?” Addison asked.

  “Eat more. Relax. Look at the stars. Take your pick.” Royce glanced at Cory. “Once Cory here’s done eating, he’ll pull out the guitar.”

  “And maybe Sadie can sing for us,” Cory said.

  Sadie almost choked on her food. She swallowed the bite in her mouth and said, “No thanks.” The memory of the last time she was onstage played through her mind. Earlier that afternoon, she’d learned her recording dreams had fallen through once again, and while she’d wanted to cancel the gig, she told herself the show must go on. But then she’d gone to sing a song she’d sung countless times, only for her voice to crack. She’d struggled to fix it but missed the next few notes as well. Every doubt she’d ever had rose up as sorrow and the overwhelming sense of rejection clawed at her, and then she’d done something she’d sworn she’d never do: she left the stage midsong. By the time she’d gotten into her car and driven away, the tears were pouring down her face.

  “I wanna hear you sing,” Eli said, leaning forward.

  She shot him a shut-it look. He was supposed to be on her side.

  “I showed you my art. I think it’s only fair.”

  Someone started chanting, “Sing, sing,” and it caught on like wildfire. Cory shoved the remaining half of his hot dog in his mouth, got out of his seat, and reappeared with his guitar a minute or so later.

 
; Panic rose up, sharp enough it stung her lungs. Singing to a crowd of jaded teens who probably hated country music hardly seemed like a good way to get her confidence back. Eli raised his voice over the chanting. “What, you too cool for this stuff?” he asked, echoing the words she’d said to him the first day they met.

  I’m stuck now, she thought, slowly standing so her diaphragm wouldn’t be all squished up and she’d have a better shot at getting the best sound possible. “Okay. One song.”

  It’s just a small group. No mic, no crowd expecting a brilliant performance.

  Along with the apprehension clenching Sadie’s stomach, a tingle of excitement mixed in. Somewhere along the way, singing had become a source of stress. Out here, just her and Cory’s guitar—well, it was the type of singing she loved.

  With her panic easing the tiniest bit, she was at least able to get a little air back in her lungs.

  Cory played a couple chords. “Let me guess, you want me to play ‘Honky Tonk Badonkadonk.’”

  Sadie shot Cory a dirty look and his grin widened. Like she’d really want to sing an offensive song about girls’ butts. “Funny,” she said, and despite her nerves, she found herself smiling. “But so not gonna happen.”

  Cory laughed and so did Royce—that helped, too. It was almost like old times all over again.

  “How about ‘Before He Cheats’ and I act out the music video using your truck?” She made a big show of looking around. “Where’s a baseball bat?”

  “Hey, do you guys know any Lady Antebellum?” Addison asked, and Sadie whipped her head toward the girl, surprised she knew any country groups, even though that one was pretty crossover. “I actually kind of like them.”

  Sadie glanced at Cory. He nodded and started playing the intro to “Just a Kiss.”

  Her heart was pounding fast, which was pretty inconvenient considering it had relocated to her throat. She blew out her breath and closed her eyes for a moment, centering herself with the music… Then she started, quieter than she usually did, but the notes were right. Cory sang softly along with her, taking the guy’s part, and while he always rebuffed the compliment, he did have a good voice. With each word, she put more behind it until instinct took over and she was belting out the lyrics, the way she used to when it was all about the music. By the second verse, she got up the courage to look at some of the faces.

  And when she was singing about shots in the dark and just a kiss good night, how could she not sing at Royce? She didn’t want to mess everything up, but she found herself hoping that maybe someday she’d get to kiss him again—because the thought of not being able to made a tight band form around her chest.

  Then the song was over and adrenaline was pumping through her veins, giving her that floaty performing buzz. There really was nothing else like it. I did it!

  The little group applauded. Addison even said, “Wow, that was really good!” Maybe Royce was right—she should give the girl a chance. Sadie gave a little bow, settled back on the log next to Royce, and stole a peek at him.

  He shot up, rubbing his palms on his jeans. “Looks like we’re out of drinks. I’ll be right back.” He took large strides toward the house, fading into the blackness.

  For weeks, things had been stilted between her and Royce, but today it felt like the barriers were coming down, and the song had her thinking about taking chances before they slipped away. “I’m just going to see if he needs help.”

  Sadie had underestimated the walk back—not the distance, but she kept wobbling on the uneven ground and tripping across rocks she didn’t see. Royce’s place was dark, a black outline against a sky almost as black.

  If I fall and break something, he’ll probably scold me for not having a flashlight. Not like he was using one. The lights in his house snapped on, sending enough of a glow for her to see by. Her booted footsteps on the wooden steps sounded loud in the silence.

  She almost smacked into him as he came out balancing a couple of six-packs of Coke in his arms. “Whoa, sorry. I thought you might need some help.” Her words came out all together, one big blur she hoped made sense.

  His eyebrows lowered. “With soda?”

  “Well…yeah? I guess?” Great, now I’m talking in all questions.

  “I got it.”

  She scratched the side of her forehead, which had suddenly become uncontrollably itchy. Now that she was face-to-face with him, she was rethinking everything, unsure what she’d been doing following after him. As if things would magically be all good between them because of a water fight, a conversation about Second Chance Ranch, and one song around a campfire. “I guess I’ll just…” She gestured at the fire burning in the distance. She headed down the stairs, holding the rail so she wouldn’t fall and turn this moment from awkward to embarrassing.

  “Sadie.”

  She spun around, and Royce came down a step, still one above her. “About what I said that first night in the grocery store about you not being on the radio…I should’ve never said it. For what it’s worth, I always thought you’d make it. And when you sang tonight?” His dark eyes locked onto hers. “Well, it blows my mind that you didn’t.”

  Sadie ran her hand up and down the polished wood railing, her heart expanding at his words. But then she remembered all those years ago, when she’d told him what she wanted to do and he hadn’t said a word, simply stared at her like she was speaking another language. “Why didn’t you tell me that before I left?” I desperately needed to hear that all those years ago.

  “Why do you think?” He took another step down, but because of his height and the uneven ground she was standing on, he was still looming over her enough that she had to crane her neck. His fingers trailed down her arm, and even with the layers of fabric between them, she felt his touch in her core. “I was in love with you, and I thought that was enough. I thought I could make you happy.”

  “Royce.”

  He squeezed her hand once, firm and quick, and then continued toward the campfire. If he thought he could say something like that and just walk away, he had another thing coming.

  …

  Damn it, why had he admitted all that? It must’ve been the singing—he remembered learning about sirens in school, how they’d sing and make men lose their minds. He’d thought it was stupid, but now he got it.

  “Royce, slow down.” Sadie caught up to him, but he didn’t dare look at her. She grabbed onto his elbow and he reluctantly stopped.

  “You can’t just walk away.”

  “Why? Because that’s your thing?”

  “That’s not fair. You know I loved you, too. You think it was easy making that choice?”

  He stared over at the flickering flames of the fire. “Look, I’m over it—glad, actually, that things worked out the way they did. All I was trying to say was that you should’ve made it. Let’s not make a big deal of it.”

  “But it is a big deal. I had to try.” Sadie stepped in front of him. Her eyes shone in a way that let him know she was holding back tears. “I knew I’d always wonder. Always regret not giving the singing thing my best shot. In the end, it would’ve driven us apart.”

  He shook his head, tamping down the flood of emotions trying to rise up in him. “I’m not doing this, Sadie. The past is the past.”

  “I just…” She shrugged. “I miss you.” There was no denying he’d missed her, too, but he couldn’t say it. Couldn’t let himself go there again.

  She put her hand on his arm and stepped so close her chest pressed against his. The moonlight glowed on her hair, highlighted her pretty features and spotlighted her full lips. He wanted to drop the soda, take her in his arms, and kiss her. Desire seared a path through his veins and his heart started pumping faster and faster. He shouldn’t still want her the way he did, but heaven help him, he did. Every inch of him trembled with want.

  It’d be too easy to pretend he could give in to it without consequence, but having Sadie as an employee helped minimize risks. Things were finally getting manageable,
and he needed her to stay working at the ranch as long as possible. After the whole mess with Cory’s girlfriend quitting after he broke up with her, Royce knew better than to try to mix business and relationships—especially knowing how volatile he and Sadie were together. The odds of it not affecting the camp were pretty much zero, and he couldn’t afford to screw up what was keeping his land and Mom’s alternative camp protected.

  No, he had to be smart, something he rarely was when it came to Sadie. “The ranch and the camp are my life, and my responsibility is to them. I won’t do anything to mess that up. You and I work together, and I have enough on my plate to deal with without adding complications. We need to keep things on a professional level. Do you understand?”

  Her chin quivered, and he had to clench every muscle in his body to keep from reaching out to console her. It was so unfair how girls could cry and make you feel like shit.

  “I understand.” Her eyes lit on his and his stomach lurched. “But if you want to keep things professional, that also means not being an ass to me. I know it’s not all the time, but I don’t deserve it.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. You being here has helped me a ton. I should’ve told you that sooner.”

  “Thanks.” She reached up and wrapped a strand of hair around her finger. “Maybe we could even be friends? I could really use a friend right now.”

  His insides turned to mush. “Well, you’ve got me. But that’s all it can be.” The words came out thick, hitting him harder than he’d thought they would. He immediately wanted to take them back, but he held on to his resolve, telling himself it was for the best for both of them in the long run.

  Her smile was laced with sadness, but at least it was a smile. She hooked her hand in the crook of her elbow and they headed toward the rest of their group.