by SJ McCoy
Chance paced the cabin after his shower. He was nervous! Dammit. He hated feeling this way. He shouldn’t care what some rich guy thought about him. But he did. He cared because that guy was Hope’s father. No matter what she’d said about him having to like it or lump it, it wasn’t that simple. It couldn’t be. He was her father, and Chance held that bond sacred—even if Hope claimed not to.
She’d asked him to come up to Oscar’s place at seven. They were going to have dinner with her dad—just the three of them. Before he’d left her this morning, they’d discussed the possibility of having Uncle Johnny and Aunt Jean join them. It might be better to have them in his corner. Hope had said she’d see how things were with her dad before she decided. She’d decided against asking them, and Chance could only hope that was a good sign—that they didn’t need them there to referee or to temper her father’s fury. Maybe she just didn’t want them to witness his fury?
One thing Chance knew was that he had to keep his own temper firmly in check. He could not—would not—allow himself to get angry. He found it hard not to defend himself if someone attacked him verbally, but he had to keep himself on a tight leash. There were plenty of things he was angry at Seymour Davenport for, but he couldn’t air them. He had to respect the guy. He was Hope’s father, no matter what Chance thought of his fathering abilities or about the harm he’d done to his daughter … He stopped and gave himself a shake. Just remembering what he shouldn’t get wound up about was getting him wound up!
He checked the clock on the wall. He should go. He’d still be early if he went now, but he’d rather get closer and stop in a pull out to kill some time than have to hang around here any longer.
~ ~ ~
Hope put a bowl of nuts down on the table in front of her dad with a smile. They were sitting out on the deck having a drink before dinner. “Do you think you can be as nice to Chance as you’ve been to me today?” They’d spent an emotional afternoon up at the house. She felt exhausted now, and she knew her dad did, too—emotionally, if not physically. They’d talked about her mom and shared memories of the life they’d had when they lived there. They’d both shed a lot of tears, but she felt better for it.
He made a face, that looked like it might be an attempt at a smile, but didn’t quite make it. “I can’t be as nice to him. He’s not my daughter. He’s a threat …”
“Oh, Dad!” She’d thought they’d made some progress today, but apparently not.
He held up a hand. “I should have put that differently. This isn’t about him, in particular. I don’t mean Chance Malone is a threat. I mean any father sees the man his daughter has fallen in love with as a threat.”
Hope stared at him open-mouthed.
“What?”
“You just said two things, that I hadn't told you.”
He frowned.
“I never told you his last name was Malone, and I haven’t said I love him.”
This time his smile was more genuine. “Even I can see you love him; there’s no point denying that. And as for knowing his last name, you’re not going to pretend to be surprised that I had him checked out, are you?”
She shook her head. “No. I mean you knew about his past, about the time he spent in prison.”
His face tightened. “And you wonder why I see him as a threat? You wonder why I’m not thrilled by the thought of you giving up your whole life to be here with him?”
“It’s not like that. It’s …” She stopped, and they both turned at the sound of a vehicle approaching. Chance’s big black pickup appeared and came to a stop in front of the house. “Please, Dad. I understand you have your reservations, but please keep an open mind? Assess the man you meet tonight—don’t judge the man you’ve already decided he is?”
He nodded slowly. “I’ll try.”
Hope walked around the deck on the side of the house and waved at Chance. “Come on up this way; we’re making the most of the sun while it lasts.”
Chance bounded up the stairs and swiped his hat off when he reached her. He looked gorgeous, even more so than usual. He was freshly showered and shaved, and he smelled wonderful. He dropped a kiss on her cheek and handed her a bottle of wine. “I brought this.” She could tell he was nervous. She wanted to hug him, to reassure him, but she knew that would just make him more uncomfortable with her dad watching them.
She took hold of his hand and squeezed it as she led him over to the table. Her dad got to his feet, and she was relieved to see that he attempted a friendly smile. She knew him well enough to recognize the tension around his mouth, but, hopefully, Chance wouldn’t notice. “I want you to meet the other most important man in my life, my dad, Seymour Davenport. Dad, this is Chance Malone.”
Chance stepped forward and offered his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”
For a moment, Hope thought her dad wasn’t going to shake with him. He gave Chance a long appraising look before he took his outstretched hand with a nod. “I won’t lie. I can’t say it’s a pleasure.”
Hope’s heart sank, but Chance nodded. “Thank you. I do better with honesty than fake niceties.”
She was relieved when her dad smiled. “Good, then we’ve already found one thing we have in common. I can honestly say that I’m glad to meet you. You’re important to my daughter, and whether or not I like what I find, I want to get to know you.”
“Likewise.”
Hope had to hide a smile; she thought she even saw the shadow of a smile on her dad’s face. He might have said he did better with honesty than fake niceties, but that was only when he was the one being honest. He wasn’t used to people being honest with him.
“Okay, now that the worst is over, can I get you both a drink? Dinner’s going to be a little while yet.”
Chance eyed her dad’s gin and tonic and smiled. “I’d love a cold beer, thanks.”
Hope nodded. Hoping Chance wasn’t going to go all out to prove to her dad just how different they were. “Can I get you a fresh one, Dad?” she asked, picking up his empty glass.
He took her by surprise when he replied, “I’ll have a cold beer, too, thanks.” He smiled at Chance.
Hope shook her head as she went inside. It was as if the two of them were playing some kind of mental chess game, each trying to catch the other off guard with an unexpected maneuver. She deliberately took her time rinsing her dad’s glass and pouring herself a stiff one. She wanted to leave them alone together long enough to have to talk to each other, but not long enough that they might get into an argument.
She pulled the chicken thighs out of the oven to check on them. Another ten minutes and they’d be done. They were her father’s favorite, or at least they used to be, baked with shallots, olives and cherry tomatoes in just enough olive oil to stop them from drying out. She set her drink on a tray, then smiled to herself as she took two bottles of beer from the fridge. She wasn’t going to bring glasses out for them. Chance drank straight from the bottle; she wondered if her father would, too.
She stopped when she reached the French doors that led back out to the deck. There was no icy standoff that she’d been half fearing. Chance and her dad were standing side by side, leaning on the rail of the deck. Chance was pointing down the valley, saying something she couldn’t hear. Her dad had a hand on Chance’s shoulder and looked as though he was actually listening. She had to swallow the lump that rose in her throat and blink away tears at the sight of them—it made her so happy, but she mustn’t get carried away. It was just a moment in time, not the resolution of all her problems.
Chapter Seventeen
The next morning, Chance got Rio ready and tethered him to the rail in the yard before going back to the barn to bring Maverick out. He still couldn’t quite believe he was doing this. Last night had gone much better than he’d dared imagine. Hope’s father hadn’t turned out to be the snooty, closed-off man Chance had expected. He actually liked the guy, which had surprised the hell out of him. He was sharp, which shouldn’t have surprised
him. He’d have to be sharp to have amassed the fortune he had. More than that even, Chance felt a kinship with him that he hadn’t expected to. He’d gone into last night seeing the two of them as competitors, rivals for Hope’s affection, in a battle Chance had thought he couldn’t win, that he wouldn’t want to win because Seymour—as he’d told Chance to call him—was her dad. As the evening had gone on, he’d understood that Seymour was weighing him up, testing him, not because he wanted to run him off, but because he wanted to assess whether Chance was worthy of being his teammate, whether between the two of them they could ensure Hope’s happiness and well-being. He’d gained a lot of respect for the guy during dinner. Afterward, the three of them had sat outside again. Seymour had talked about how much he used to love the valley and Chance’s sense of kinship with him had grown when he understood why he stayed away now. He hadn’t said too much about Hope’s mom, but he’d given enough away to make Chance think about Chloe—about how he’d left Summer Lake after her death. He hadn’t gone back for years. For the longest time, he couldn’t stand to be there. The last few years had taken him back more and more—because of family. He wondered whether the same might happen for Seymour. If Hope were to move here, would that draw him back? Would it help him come to terms with his loss? He blew out a sigh. Who knew?
All he should be focusing on right now was getting Maverick ready. Seymour would be here soon. They were going to ride out together. This had been the most surprising result of their conversation last night. Seymour had asked Chance about his work, about the Remington ranch, and the cattle he ran. Chance had been surprised how knowledgeable he was, both about ranching and the valley. When he’d said he missed riding and feeling a part of the valley, Chance had offered to take him out this morning. He wanted to show him his life, wanted him to understand who he was and what he did. He also wanted to help him enjoy something he hadn’t done in years—and maybe help him reconnect with this place that it seemed he used to love so much.
He turned to watch an SUV coming up the driveway, sending up a trail of dust in its wake. That was him. Chance tightened the cinch of Maverick’s saddle, hoping that this was going to work out and that it hadn’t been a dumb idea.
The SUV came to a stop, and Seymour climbed out of the passenger seat, making Chance wonder where the driver had been hiding last night. There’d been no sign of him. Did he sit and wait in the vehicle everywhere Seymour went? He got a grip; that wasn’t the most pressing question right now as Seymour strode across the yard to greet him.
“Good morning. We’ve got a great day for it.”
Chance nodded. The sky was blue, and the sun was already warm. “We do. It might get hot after a while, but we can come back whenever you’re ready.”
Seymour smiled. “I can keep up, don’t worry about me.”
Chance smiled. He did look to be in great shape. “You just let me know. I don’t want us trying to outdo each other to the point of exhaustion.”
Seymour laughed. “Fair point, but you let me know if you can’t keep up, too?”
Chance laughed with him. “Okay. I’ve got you riding Rio; he’ll take care of you.”
Seymour nodded, and Chance liked him more as he went to stroke Rio’s nose. “I’ll try not to get in your way, Rio.”
Chance untethered him and led him out to the center of the yard. “There’s a mounting block if …”
Seymour gave him a stern look. “I’m not that old yet.” He took the reins and mounted Rio easily as if he’d ridden all his life.
Chance nodded and went to get on Maverick. “I’m not trying to put you down, I’m just trying to look out for you,” he said as he climbed into the saddle.
Seymour smiled. “I know, but I’m sure you can understand that when you judge me to be something other, something less than I am, I have to prove what I’m capable of.”
Chance reined Maverick around and smiled at him. “I sure as hell can relate to that.”
“So, how about we each wait to see what the other can do before we go making any more judgments?”
“Sounds good to me. Let’s go.” Chance headed out of the yard and up the trail that led to the western pastures. After their conversation last night, he wanted to take Seymour out to where the Remington land adjoined his own land. If he wanted to, they could ride over his property which it sounded like he hadn’t done in decades.
Seymour brought Rio up alongside Maverick. He rode well. He must have spent a lot of time in the saddle at some point in his life. He looked like he belonged there. Chance smiled. “You look at home. Have you ever thought about giving it all up and coming back here to run cattle?”
Seymour didn’t laugh; instead, he nodded solemnly. “You’d be surprised how many times I have thought about doing just that.” He met Chance’s gaze. “But you’ll probably understand better than most why I haven’t.”
“I think I do. I didn’t go back to Summer Lake for years after Chloe died.”
Seymour nodded, and they rode on in silence for a while, making Chance feel he’d missed an opportunity to share something important. “I’ve been going back more and more lately, though.”
“And why’s that?”
“Family, mostly. The passing of time, partly.”
“Your father and your sister are still there, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, and my nephew, and Chloe’s sister, and a whole bunch of friends who mean a lot to me.”
“Perhaps I can learn from you.”
Chance didn’t say anything. He’d only wanted to share how he was learning to deal with his loss in a more constructive way. He hadn’t meant to push Seymour anywhere.
“If Hope were here, if she lived here …” He turned in the saddle to meet Chance’s gaze. “I’ve accepted a lot about you since I’ve met you. You’re a better man than I thought.” He pursed his lips. “Let’s be honest; you’re a better man than I wanted you to be.”
Chance smiled, grateful that was the case and perhaps even more grateful that Seymour was prepared to admit it.
“One thing puzzles me though.”
“What’s that?” Chance braced himself for the reply. Seymour had used the word puzzled, but his expression looked like, whatever it was, angered him.
“If you love her, if you know her well and you understand her, how can you expect her to move here? Do you honestly see her being happy as a rancher’s wife? Don’t you think there’s more to her than that?”
“Hell yes, I do! I don’t like the idea of her giving up her life any more than you do.”
“But you’re not prepared to give up yours in order to be with her?”
It was a fair question. Chance knew that. “I could, I’ve considered it, but this isn’t just what I do. It’s who I am. If you were to land me in LA, I’d shrivel and die within weeks. I can’t handle being in the city, any city. I can’t handle the people, the traffic, the buildings. I’d make her miserable. I know that. I also know it must seem selfish of me.” He nodded to himself. He hadn’t needed Seymour to point out how one-sided it seemed; it’d been on his mind too. “There’s something you should know.”
They reached a gate, and Seymour reined Rio back to let Chance and Maverick go ahead of them and open it. After he’d closed it behind them, they rode on in silence for a little while.
“I’m waiting for you to tell me what I should know, but I’m not sure I want to hear it.”
“You might like it. You need to know that Hope and I aren’t as far along in our relationship as you seem to think. We know we’d like to be together, but at this point, it’s only a possibility. We haven’t known each other very long, and much as we feel the connection, we were thinking we should take our time. See how things develop rather than forcing them to happen.”
“Until I came along?”
Chance nodded. “Yup.”
“Are you saying you’re not sure if she’s the one for you?”
Chance met his gaze. “She’s the only woman alive I will ever wan
t to be with.”
“But there’s one who’s no longer alive, too.”
“I didn’t mean that so much as I meant, I’m no more comfortable with the thought of her giving up her life to be here with me than you are.”
Seymour nodded. “What if we could figure out a good life for her here?”
Chance shook his head. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that we can’t figure anything out for her. She has to do it herself.”
Seymour laughed so heartily that Rio lunged sideways in surprise. Chance was glad to see that he stayed in the saddle with ease. “Sorry.” He patted the horse’s neck and looked at Chance. “The irony amused me. To think that we could both lose her by trying to work together to help her.”
Chance nodded; he didn’t find the prospect quite so amusing.
They rode on in silence for a while, until they came to the farthest reaches of the ranch. “The Remington land ends right over there.” Chance pointed to the fence. “On the other side, you’re back on your own land.”
“It’s been years since I’ve been down here.” He looked at Chance. “Do you resent me, and the others like me who own large tracts of land, but don’t live on it or work it?”
“No. It’s not ideal, I’d like to see the whole valley ranched and farmed, but then we don’t live in an ideal world. I reckon those who own large tracts have mostly earned it, and what they do with it is their choice.” He shrugged. “It’s better than it all being bought up by developers and made into subdivisions.”
Seymour nodded grimly. “Rest assured that’ll never happen with my land. Not while I’m alive.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Why do you still call this the Remingtons’ land. You own everything we’ve ridden on to this point.”
That took Chance by surprise. He wondered how Seymour knew that the Remingtons had divided up their land last year, giving an equal portion to their four sons and him. He shrugged. “It doesn’t feel like it’s mine. The Remingtons passed it on to their sons. They see me as a son, and they gave me an equal share, but I see myself more as a caretaker of their property than the new owner. To me, it’ll always be Remington land.”
