Fortune's Second-Chance Cowboy

by Marie Ferrarella

  He shrugged. “Just a feeling. Can’t really put it into better words than that,” he confessed.

  Chloe assessed his words. Was he running from something without realizing it? she couldn’t help wondering.

  “Maybe that feeling is fear,” she suggested. She saw that her suggestion did not please him. But she honestly believed what she was saying to him. She couldn’t apologize for that; it would be a lie. Instead, she tried to explain what she meant. “Maybe what you fear is complacency. You get too comfortable, too used to something, and you start to worry that you’re losing your edge, that you’re getting soft. That the challenge is gone. So you have to leave to find another mountain to climb, another dragon to slay.”

  Chance looked at her as if she was suddenly babbling nonsense.

  “I’m not climbing any mountains, and I sure as hell am not slaying any of those dragons. Anyway, dragons aren’t real.” He was trying his best not to sound annoyed—but he was.

  “No,” she agreed, “they’re not.”

  He knew he should just go. Normally, he would have. But something was making him dig in his heels and stay. He wanted to get something straight.

  “Is this the kind of stuff you’re going to be feeding those boys?” he asked. “Stuff about slaying dragons?”

  “No, this is the kind of ‘stuff’ I’m going to be using in order to try to understand the boys,” she said. “To help them reconnect with the world.”

  He laughed drily. Still sounded like a bunch of mumbo jumbo to him.

  “Well, good luck with that,” he told her, shaking his head. “But if you ask me, a little hard work and a little responsibility should help those boys do all the reconnecting that they need.”

  “Hard work and responsibility,” she repeated as if he had just quoted scripture. “Has it helped you?” Chloe asked innocently.

  His scowl deepened for a moment, and then he just waved her words away. “Don’t try getting inside my head, Chloe Elliott. There’s nothing in it for you. I’m doing just fine just the way I am.”

  She suppressed a sigh. “Okay, as long as you’re happy.”

  Happy? When was the last time he’d been happy? He couldn’t remember.

  “Happy’s got nothing to do with it,” Chance answered. “I’m my own man on my own terms, and that’s all that really counts.”

  He felt himself losing his temper, and he didn’t want to do that. Once things were said, they couldn’t get “unsaid” and a lot of damage could be done. He didn’t want that to happen. Not with this woman.

  “I’d better go find the boss. Graham said that he wanted to take me around the spread as soon as I stashed my gear.”

  She didn’t want to be the reason he was late. “Then I guess you’d better get going.”

  “Yeah, I guess I’d better.” With that, he crossed back to the door.

  He walked out feeling that there were things left unspoken. A great many things. But then, maybe it was better that way. He wasn’t looking to have his head “shrunk” any more than it already was. Even if the lady doing the shrinking was nothing short of a knockout.

  Some things, he reasoned, were just better off left alone.

  Chapter Six

  Chloe could feel the butterflies in her stomach. Flexing, but at present unable to fly. They were huge butterflies with wingspans that would make an eagle seriously jealous.

  But as she walked to her first meeting with the boys at Peter’s Place, she knew that if she gave any indication that she was even slightly nervous—never mind that she was about a minute away from having a full-on panic attack—she was certain to lose any advantage and all credibility. Putting up a calm front was all-important during this first encounter.

  She was well aware that this would set the tone for the rest of the visits to come.

  No pressure here, Chloe mocked herself.

  But she knew that if she didn’t project that she was completely in control of the situation, word would spread to the other boys immediately, and then none of them would view her with the respect she needed in order to be of any help to them.

  And helping them was why she was here, why she’d become a counselor in the first place.

  And maybe, in helping others to heal, eventually she’d find a way to help and heal herself.

  When she took the job, she’d assumed that she would be conducting a group session, with Sasha present, in which she’d get to meet all four of the boys at once and learn a little about each of them by the time the session was over.

  But Sasha had been concerned that since this was her maiden run, so to speak, she might be a little overwhelmed meeting four teens at once. Graham’s wife had suggested that she start out small, talking just to one of the ranch residents at a time.

  Naturally, Chloe had agreed. She thought that a one-on-one meeting might work a little more in her favor. Besides, she didn’t have a ton of experience. New on the job, she needed to abide by Sasha’s wishes. After all, Sasha was the expert here.

  So here she was, walking into the small, cheery room that had been set aside in the main house for counseling sessions, doing her best to try to control the squadron of butterflies in her stomach that were morphing into Boeing 747s.

  At least the sun was cooperating, she noted, filling the room with warm light thanks to the full-length windows that looked out onto the corral and the stables beyond that.

  The sun might be cooperating, but her first patient didn’t look as if he was inclined to follow suit.

  Brandon Baker eyed her suspiciously the moment he walked into the room less than a couple of seconds after she’d entered. A good-looking fifteen-year-old with dark, almost black hair and brown eyes, he was a lot thinner than he should have been. His stance and his very gait exuded defiance.

  His eyes quickly swept around the room. “Where’s the doc?” he wanted to know.

  Chloe didn’t bother asking him if he meant Sasha. That would be stalling. “She won’t be joining us for the session,” Chloe began.

  Brandon made a 180 without missing a step and headed for the doorway he’d just entered through.

  Chloe knew she had to say something quickly or he’d be gone in a flash. She called after him. “Mrs. Fortune Robinson thought we could get to know each other better if she wasn’t here.”

  Brandon had his hand on the doorknob and didn’t bother turning around. “She thought wrong,” he said flatly.

  “Come back and sit down, Brandon.”

  Chloe hadn’t raised her voice and she definitely wasn’t shouting, but there was no mistaking the firmness in her tone. It wasn’t a request; it was an order. She surprised even herself.

  Brandon still didn’t turn around, but neither did he turn the doorknob and go out. It was as if he was still waiting to be convinced.

  “Now, please,” she requested.

  Brandon blew out a breath, turned around and then walked over to the folding chair that was set up opposite hers.

  Chloe gestured toward the padded green chair. “Sit, please.” Both words were given equal weight.

  After a moment, during which time she had a feeling the boy was mentally going over his options, as well as wondering how far he could push her, Brandon Baker finally sat down.

  “Okay, I’m sitting.” He looked at her, but she couldn’t read the expression on his face. All she knew was that it wasn’t warm. “Now what?”

  “Now we talk,” Chloe told him in as bright and engaging a tone as she could summon.

  “Talk?” The single word seemed to mock her, and she saw a smirk on Brandon’s sullen face. “Lady, I don’t even know you.”

  “That’s where the talking part comes in,” she told him in as upbeat a manner as she could project. “We talk so that we can get to know each other.”

 
“And then what?” he challenged cynically. “Become best friends?”

  “Maybe,” she allowed. “Eventually. If enough time passes.”

  The scowl on the young face was dark and forbidding. “I don’t need any more friends.”

  “Maybe not,” Chloe said agreeably. “Maybe you’re one of those people who have all the friends he needs—although I doubt it,” she couldn’t help adding. A warning look rose in Brandon’s eyes. Chloe pushed on. “But it’s obvious that you do need a way to get rid of all that anger you’re holding on to.”

  Brandon shifted restlessly, indicating that he had heard all that he was willing to listen to. His eyes narrowed. “Look, lady—”

  “Chloe,” she supplied. She knew that she should have told the boy to address her by either her surname or simply “ma’am,” but somehow, using her first name just seemed friendlier and she needed to find some sort of an opening if she was going to forge a bridge between them.

  Brandon looked bored. “Whatever,” he said dismissively. And then, in case there were any lingering doubts about the situation, he told her in no uncertain terms, “I don’t know what you thought when you came here, but I’m not some kind of a guinea pig for you to practice on so you can earn your merit badge or whatever it is you’re trying to get out of this.”

  She realized that he was trying to get her angry, angry enough to walk out. She had no intentions of letting him.

  “What I’m trying to ‘get out of this’ is to find a way to help you help yourself,” she explained patiently. “No matter how you feel about it, Brandon, I’m not the enemy here.”

  “Okay, you’re not the enemy,” he parroted. “Now can I go?” he demanded.

  Chloe glanced at her watch—as if she wasn’t keenly aware of every second that went by. “We’ve got another forty-five minutes left to the session.”

  Brandon slouched in his chair, crossing his arms defiantly across his chest as he glared at her. “So you’re what, a shrink?” he wanted to know, his hostility almost palpable.

  “I’m a counselor,” she corrected, fervently wishing she had more ammunition at her disposal for this battle she suddenly found herself in.

  “Uh-huh.” Hostility momentarily turned to boredom, and he deliberately yawned. “Same difference.”

  “Not exactly,” she told him. In actuality, there was a world of difference, especially in the two disciplines’ approaches to the people they dealt with. But she wasn’t about to bore Brandon further by explaining them. “Tell you what,” she said instead, “why don’t I ask you some questions and you can fill in the blanks for me. How would that be?”

  He made no answer, other than to scowl and to slouch even lower in his chair, his body language telling her that he didn’t care one way or another what she proposed to do.

  Chloe had to concentrate not to allow the hand that was holding Brandon’s file to tremble. Showing fear was the worst thing she could do, and she knew it.

  “According to the information on your entrance form, you had an older brother, Blake, who was killed—”

  Brandon instantly sat up, and his body became almost rigid as his eyes blazed accusingly at her. “You shut up about my brother!” he ordered.

  She couldn’t do that. If she hadn’t thought so before, she knew now that Blake was at the root of Brandon’s anger. Chloe pressed on.

  She understood what he was going through better than he knew, she thought.

  “Your brother did a noble thing,” she told him in a calm, even voice. “Don’t you think that should be acknowledged?”

  “No!” Brandon shouted at her. And then he cried, “My brother did a stupid thing! If he hadn’t joined the military, he wouldn’t have gotten himself killed. He’d still be alive today. He’d still be here! With me!” His voice cracked as he made the declaration.

  “Brandon,” Chloe continued in a quiet voice, doing her best to try to calm him, “I know that you’re hurting right now—”

  His temper flared again. “Don’t talk like you know me!” He jumped to his feet now. “You don’t know anything about me!” he insisted furiously.

  Chloe refused to back down. If she retreated right now, she might as well give up. “I might not know you, but I know how you feel,” she told him doggedly as she tried again.

  “No, you don’t! Don’t say that!” The boy looked like he was fighting back tears. “Nobody knows how I feel!”

  With that, Brandon dashed right past her and out the door.

  He would have dashed down the hall and presumably out of the house if he hadn’t run straight into Chance, blindly colliding with the towering cowboy.

  The impact might have knocked Brandon to the floor if Chance hadn’t reacted quickly and caught hold of the boy by his shoulders.

  “Hey, where’s the fire?” Chance asked. The next moment, he saw Chloe coming up behind the fleeing boy. He saw the look of concern on her face. “Everything all right here?” he wanted to know.

  Unlike his first question, this one was addressed to Chloe.

  “Everything’s all right,” she told Chance resolutely. She caught the surprised look that Brandon slanted her way. “I just decided to end the session a little earlier than planned. Since this is our first session, I thought maybe Brandon needed a little time to digest what we talked about before we could move forward.”

  Chance looked at the boy he was still holding steady. He had his doubts about the validity of what Chloe was telling him.

  “Is that so?” he asked, looking at the boy.

  Brandon shot a look toward Chloe, and Chance could read his thoughts. The teen was calculating his next move, deciding if now was the time to play the odds or to just go along with things.

  His gaze flickered as if he’d decided to run with the excuse Chloe had handed him. “Yeah, getting used to someone new takes time. The doc’s giving me time.”

  Chance looked over the boy’s head at Chloe. “Is that what you’re doing, Doc?” he asked, even though he was highly skeptical about the excuse he was being given. “Are you giving Brandon time so he can get used to you?”

  Chloe nodded. “This was an introductory session only,” she said, her eyes meeting Brandon’s. “The next one will be longer. Right, Brandon?”

  Rather than agree, Brandon merely raised and lowered his thin shoulders in a careless, disinterested shrug. “You’re the doc,” the boy replied.

  “Well, since you’re free,” Chance told the boy, “there’s that stall waiting for you to muck out.” He saw the face that Brandon unintentionally made. He didn’t pretend not to notice. “You know the rules. Chores first, then you can ride—unless of course you want to talk to the doc here some more,” Chance said, offering the boy a choice.

  Brandon waited, as if he was actually weighing his options for a second. And then he made his choice. “I’ll be at the stable.”

  He walked toward the rear of the ranch house to the exit closest to the stable.

  Chance turned his attention to Chloe and saw the disappointed expression on her face. “Didn’t go all that well, huh?”

  He was kidding, right? “Well, I just took second place to cleaning out manure in a horse stall, so no, it didn’t go all that well.”

  Chance laughed, not at her but at the situation. “Don’t take it personally. The kid’s mad at the world right now.” Graham had given him a quick background summary for all four of the boys. Chance felt for them, even if he wasn’t prone to showing it. “He looked up to his big brother, thought of him as invincible. When it turned out that his brother wasn’t bulletproof, it threw the kid for a loop. He’s still trying to find a place for himself in a world that no longer has his big brother in it. That is not an easy adjustment to make,” he told her. “Especially at Brandon’s age.”

  “Losing someone is not an easy adj
ustment to make at any age,” she told Chance in no uncertain terms. “I was trying to tell Brandon that. Trying to let him know that I understand what he’s going through.”

  Chance was closer to the boy’s situation than he cared to admit, so he tried to explain to her just what she was up against.

  “He’s not ready to hear that,” Chance told her. “Right now, he’s wrapping himself up in that pain and anger that he feels. That rage. It’s the only way he has to cope. Without it, he’s afraid that he’ll just break down, fall to pieces and never be able to get back up. Being angry is all he has,” Chance stressed, trying to make her understand. “You take that away from the boy before he’s ready to let it go and, well, there’s no telling what can happen.”

  It was a warning. He didn’t want her good heart to accidentally cause her to make a really bad mistake. He had a feeling that she’d never forgive herself.

  Chloe laughed shortly. He had a better handle on the situation than she did, she thought ruefully. “You know, you sound pretty wise for a cowboy.”

  The corners of Chance’s full mouth curved just the slightest bit. “I think, on behalf of cowboys everywhere, I should be taking offense at that.”

  She wasn’t getting anything right today, was she? “I didn’t mean it that way,” she told him apologetically.

  He laughed and stopped her before she could launch into a full-scale apology. He’d just been trying to tease her out of her very serious mood. “I know. I’m just having fun with you.”

  It was her turn to turn the tables on him. “You can do that?” she asked, pretending to be surprised. “You can have fun?”

  “I’ve been known to,” Chance deadpanned. “Every once in a while.”

  It suddenly occurred to her that Chance was standing much too close to her. So close, she wondered if he could hear her heart beating fast. So close that she was sure he could easily kiss her without any effort at all.

  And although the thought of being kissed by Chance did instantly raise her pulse rate, Chloe knew that kissing him would be a huge mistake, especially for her. Because being kissed by and kissing Chance would mean opening a door to a place she had absolutely no desire to revisit.