But he wasn't walking out of here with a lotto ticket. Even if the late afternoon sunlight was beaming down on the display like an angelic halo.
The woman leaned on the counter, chatting. Giving him a clear view of the display beside her.
One lottery ticket wasn't real gambling.
At least that's what the little devil on his shoulder would have him believe.
One lottery ticket wouldn't do much to scratch the itch between his shoulder blades. But it would do something.
Make him forget the last hour spent in the doctor's office, even if only for a momentary gambler's high.
He'd expected Doc O'Leary. Eighties. Failing eyesight. He’d been patching Dan up since he'd been a toddler.
Instead, the door had opened and she'd walked in. Wavy brown hair in a ponytail down her back. The crisp white coat and smart black slacks. She'd looked like a big-city doctor, so different from Doc, who wore Wrangler jeans to the office.
And those dark-rimmed glasses that had only highlighted her intelligent hazel eyes, which sparkled with curiosity.
Shame had poured over him, hot and thick. Everybody in town knew his history.
He'd given up on hoping that a single soul in Taylor Hills might not know that he'd been incarcerated. And what he'd done to deserve it.
For one wild moment, he'd hoped she didn't know.
And then she'd brought up Rene, the office manager. He'd gone to high school with Rene. There was no way she hadn't told the doctor to steer clear of Dan.
The doctor had been professional and polite, and all he'd wanted to do was run out of there with his tail between his legs like a pup.
He was what he was. No chance of changing it now.
But the shame threatened to eat him alive.
Made the voices in his head, the ones that begged him to hit up the nearest casino, just buy one lotto ticket, that much louder.
He didn't dare, even if the cost was only a buck.
Because if he could justify a buck, he could justify five. And if he could justify five, what was twenty, or fifty or a Benjamin?
Every dollar he socked away in his meager savings account was a dollar toward paying back the enormous debt he owed the Hale family.
Today, his savings had shrunk from the doctor's visit.
What a disaster, on so many levels.
A bell above the door chimed, throwing him out of his scattered thoughts. Someone else was coming in to the gas station.
He grimaced, turning away to stare at the display of candy bars.
Now it would be even longer before he could get out of here. Unless he just left, just faced whoever had come in and their judgment.
That he deserved.
Crap.
"Please?" said one child.
"Yeah, me too,” said another child. “I want one, too."
The two children continued to beg, talking over each other.
"A hot dog is not an adequate source of nutrition for your supper."
Goose pimples traveled up his arms as he recognized the female voice.
He glanced up at the mirror that ringed the ceiling. It was meant to deter shoplifting, but it gave him a blurred view of the good doctor and two kids. Hers?
Of course she was married. Somebody pretty and smart like that. Of course she was.
"I see that pout, young lady." The doctor sounded tired, worn out in the way he'd come to recognize in Nate, his boss and former best friend. Nate had two kids now.
"It's going to take forever to get home and for you to make dinner," a girl whined.
"I have my own money," said a boy. "From raking Mr. Owen's grass cuttings. I'm gonna get a Snickers Bar."
"You can buy it,” the doctor said, “but that doesn't mean you can eat it for supper."
"Aw, man!"
Dan realized where he was standing—next to the candy rack—just as they came around the corner.
The doctor pulled up short, but the two kids were oblivious as they rushed the candy.
"Oh,” she said. “Hello."
He saluted her with the Big Gulp. "Ma'am."
And had to force himself not to wince. Lame. He was so lame.
She didn't bother to hide her wince. "I didn't look that closely at your chart, but you can't be more than one or two years younger than I am. Megan will do."
Megan.
The boy of ten or eleven with dirty blond hair and hazel eyes like the doctor's looked up. Dan saw the measuring gaze he threw his way. Nothing to see here, kid. A peon next to your mom.
The girl was cute. She had dark hair and a splash of freckles across her nose. It was she who spoke, looking up from her Crunch bar. "Are you a real cowboy? Like from the rodeo?"
"Something like that." He'd been in his share of rodeos in his younger years, before he'd busted a knee and realized taking his chances in casinos wasn't as hard on his body.
"Are you riding in the rodeo tomorrow?" the girl pressed.
"No," Doctor Megan said.
He raised one brow at her. Couldn't help it.
"Not with..." She gestured to his ribs. "No way."
It was kinda cute that she thought she could tell him what to do.
"I'm not riding," he told the little girl.
And then, "You should come,” he said. “To the rodeo."
Where had that come from? He hadn't meant to issue an invitation. The Triple H ranch rodeo was a new annual event, one that had come about during his incarceration. He'd be working with the stock behind the scenes.
Both kids lit up before he could rescind the invite.
"Bring your mom, too," he said lamely.
And both kids shut down.
"She is not our mom," the boy spat.
He caught a glimpse of pain as it crossed the doctor's expressive face before she masked it. She stepped forward and reached for the boy's shoulder, but he jerked away, stalking off to the endcap of beef jerky. His crossed arms and general body language revealed a big ol’ chip on his shoulder.
That's what Dan got for sticking his nose into their business. He'd stepped right into a manure pile in their family dynamic.
"I'm sorry," he muttered.
He turned and approached the checkout counter, interrupting Mrs. Mallory, who'd been his fifth-grade teacher. He plunked a dollar on the counter for his soda pop.
Kept his shaking hand away from the lotto tickets.
And got outta there.
Chapter 2
Megan had agreed to the rodeo. She regretted it as she pulled her Subaru sedan off the two-lane farm road and onto a rutted two-track driveway. At least she thought it was supposed to be a driveway.
She felt like a pushover, because she'd given in after the 15,237th time Julianne had asked.
And partly because Brady hadn't asked.
He didn't ask for things, because he didn't trust her. At least, that's what she'd guessed over the last nine months since she'd been awarded custody of her nephew and niece.
She's not our mom.
Brady's quick temper at the gas station had made her want to curl up in a ball and weep all over again. For what he'd lost. What they'd all lost when her sister and brother-in-law had been in a fatal car accident. Emma and Riley were gone.
One phone call had changed Megan's life, and the kids' lives, too.
Months had passed, and they were still walking on eggshells around each other. Trying to figure out how to do life now.
Thus, the rodeo.
It couldn't be dangerous to watch the rodeo, right?
"This is so exciting," Julianne squealed from the backseat of Megan's sedan. At eight, everything was exciting.
As the car bumped and tilted over the rough off-road terrain, Megan could only pray she wasn't doing irreparable damage to the car. She squinted against the setting sun, trying to find a place to park. She was surrounded by trucks. Finally, she pulled off the rutted lane and parked between two huge farm trucks in the tall field grass.
Hot, humid Texas
air and the smell of animal feces hit her as she stepped out of the sedan. The summer grass crunched beneath her sneakers.
Julianne and Brady jumped from the back seat.
"Guys," she warned before they could run off.
They both froze, their energy instantly diminishing. Brady wouldn't look at her.
"What are the rules?" she asked.
"Don't go off by ourselves," Julianne chirped.
"And?"
"Don't eat junk food...?" the girl asked tentatively.
Brady stared off in the distance, chin set at a mulish angle.
She addressed him. "Is there anything you want to add?"
He shot her a glare. "Don't run around. Don't talk to anyone. Don't have any fun."
Well, that was a bit of an exaggeration.
"You know why we have the rules," she reminded them both. "It's not about keeping you from having fun."
"It's about protecting us." His mocking emphasis on the last words didn't go unnoticed, but she let it go.
She followed as they navigated through the sea of trucks and trailers toward a metal-fenced arena, where red dust rose above everything else.
Things had been going well—as well as could be expected, under the circumstances—until the last few weeks. Brady wanted to argue over everything. Felt her rules were too confining.
She didn't know what to do. She knew Emma hadn't let the kids run wild. She was maybe a smidge more strict than Emma had been, but she was still learning her way here too. She'd been working her way through med school when her friends had been having babies. People with kids Julianne and Brady's age had gone through the baby stages, the terrible twos, the beginning of the elementary years.
They knew what they were doing, parenting-wise.
She didn't, no matter the number of parenting books she’d stacked on her nightstand, too tired to crack them open after a full day of work and evening of corralling the kids.
They joined the small crowd—all of whom seemed at home in boots and jeans and fancy cowboy hats. Megan bit her lip to hold back a warning as the kids clambered up the stairs of the bleachers, the shiny new boots she'd bought them upon their arrival in Taylor Hills ringing against the metal.
She scanned for three seats in the first or second rows, hoping that if they stayed low to the ground, it would mitigate any damage if the kids got excited and fell through. No dice.
The kids were already halfway up the bleachers, heading for the mostly-empty top row.
"Guys!"
But they either didn't hear her or were ignoring her.
Someone in the row next to her whooped, and she whipped around, expecting to see a bull rider or something dangerous come into the dirt-packed arena.
It was a tiny boy, no more than four, riding on the back of a... sheep?
The sheep was running around the arena, and the boy was jostled off after a few seconds. A booming announcer called out a time, and the crowd cheered.
Megan turned back to locate the kids, and her heart rate skyrocketed. Where were they?
Wait. There.
Behind a man with a huge ten-gallon hat. Of course on the top row. She moved to join them and sat down on the metal seat. Heat seeped through her jeans and into her skin.
Another sheep-riding little boy entered the arena. This time, the sheep headed directly for the fence and knocked the little boy into it.
Breath caught in her chest as the sheep kept going, but the little boy was caught by his belt and left hanging upside-down on the fence. His hat came off as his head knocked into the railing.
Was he hurt?
She was ready to jump up and rush for her car to get her medical bag when a lanky cowboy dressed as a clown sauntered across the arena and righted the boy. He set the kid on his feet and plopped his cowboy hat back on his head.
The boy waved and the crowd went wild.
Seriously?
These people were crazy.
And Julianne and Brady were cheering along with them.
Across the arena, several cowboys and cowgirls lined the arena fence. The men wore black felt hats while the women had on fancy sequined vests and white hats. Their hair was eighties-big, and Megan almost thought she could smell the Aqua Net from here.
She let her eyes scan for familiar faces. She was not looking for Dan—but she found him anyway, behind some kind of chute, out of the way of most of the action. From this distance, it was impossible to know whether he'd seen her or not.
She didn't know why she was drawn to him, other than the intense flare of attraction she'd experienced in the exam room.
And then he'd witnessed Brady's mini-meltdown at the gas station. Way to make a great impression on the guy.
Not that she had time for dating. She was a single mother now. And she had a thriving, busy practice.
She didn't have time.
Next, the announcer called for the clover leaf barrels.
"Is this for girls?" Julianne asked excitedly.
The ten-gallon-hat man turned and gave her a winning smile. "It sure is. Maybe next time, you'll be down there competing."
Julianne lit up like a firecracker. She turned her bright face on Megan. "Could I?"
"Oh, honey. You don't even know how to ride."
Julianne frowned.
When the first girl, who was about Brady's age, came flying out of the gate, low on her horse's back, Megan knew she'd been right to discourage Julianne.
At that speed, one slip from the saddle, and a little girl could have a traumatic brain injury.
They weren't even wearing helmets!
Megan fought the urge to cover her eyes as girl after girl raced out, looped their horses around three barrels, and then raced back through the gate.
It was like watching a scary movie. She couldn't look away.
The third annual Triple H spring rodeo was in full swing. Dan had no idea what he was doing.
Nate had put him in charge of manning the chute for the steers they'd use in the calf mugging and later for the big bulls. It was hot, and he'd been slobbered and snotted on by two steers already.
The gate clanged open, and he swatted the steer's rump, not that it needed any extra encouragement. It ran into the arena, and he closed the gate, then ushered in the next animal.
He needed to brush his teeth. He’d eaten a bushel of dust already and the night was young. The sun was barely setting. They hadn't kicked on the tall arena lights yet.
He was itching between his shoulder blades again. Had pulled his Stetson down low over his eyes. His ears were hot.
This many folks from town...
He felt the weight of several dozen stares. Knew they were all talking about him. Waiting for him to screw up again.
Maybe he would. But not tonight.
He wouldn't.
Even if he had to stay on the ranch twenty-four seven.
Fifteen minutes ago, he'd overheard one of the bull riders chatting it up with Nate. And heard, "Why'd Hale hire him back on?" He’d known they were talking about him.
Nate's "No idea." had stung more than Dan wanted to admit.
He'd been right about Nate. He would never forgive him. The foreman tolerated Dan but didn't speak to him if he didn't have to.
He'd screwed up their friendship.
He needed to think about something else.
Megan.
He'd seen the doctor show up with her charges almost an hour ago. They'd climbed onto the top of the bleachers.
For some reason, he couldn't seem to stop glancing her way. Unlike many of the folks in the crowd, she didn't seem to have visited the food truck that'd set up on the edge of the parking grounds. No sign of corn dogs or pretzels for her. Was she a health nut? Because of her profession?
His curiosity about the good doctor couldn't be a good thing. He needed to keep his head down and remember the vow he'd made to himself. Pay back the Hales and get out. Even if it took him ten years. Or thirty. He was determined to do it.
&n
bsp; But he also couldn't help noticing the way the doctor kept covering her eyes. Like right now, as the kid in the arena roped his calf and jumped off his horse. A glance in the stands revealed the doctor with both hands cupping the sides of her eyes, hiding.
Seriously?
She was adorable.
Why had she come, if the rodeo freaked her out? Was it for the kids? The kids who weren't hers.
"Hey."
A female voice interrupted his musings, and, for one microsecond, his heart leapt as if it were the doctor.
It was Kelsey, his boss's very pregnant wife. At his elbow with a dripping, ice-cold bottled water.
"Thought you might need to wash down some of that dust you're eating."
Through the bars, he took it from her. "Thanks." And then because he couldn't help it, "Aren't you supposed to be resting?"
He didn't know details but had overheard enough to know that she was supposed to be on bed rest during this last part of her pregnancy.
Right now, she braced one hand on her lower back, looking slightly miserable in a maternity shirt and jeans and... flip flops?
She followed his gaze down but grimaced when she realized she couldn't see her feet. "I can't get my boots on any more," she admitted. "I wanted to watch Miles ride. He's up next, isn't he?"
Nate and Kayla's adopted son was roping for the first time tonight, and the whole spread was anxious on his behalf. Even Dan, though he wouldn't admit it.
Her eyes caught on something over his shoulder. He craned his neck to look. There was Matt, looking like thunder and heading for his wife, though still yards away.
"And it looks like I'm going right back into the house to lie down on the couch."
Dan looked back at her, saw the pout.
"It's boring. I can't see anything, even from the living room window."
"I'm sor—" He didn't get the words out before she went pale. One hand clutched her stomach. and she reached out and grabbed onto the outside of the chute.
"Hold up," he shouted to the guy working the chute's lever several feet away. He stepped onto the bottom railing of the chute and used his momentum to propel himself over the top. He was halfway over when he remembered the stitches. Remembered because he could feel them tearing apart.
He made it just in time as she fainted dead away.
Melting Megan: a Cowboy Fairytales spin-off (Triple H Brides Book 5) Page 2
