Second Chances

by Denise Belinda McDonald

  Plus, he was preoccupied with the condition of her tire. He’d taken a closer look at it and found a gash just above the rim. A gash that couldn’t have happened from normal wear and tear. Knowing that Dale Holstrom had come to the ranch just after dinner to talk to Willard… Luckily, Zan had disappeared upstairs for a while and hadn’t run across him.

  He’d didn’t mention Holstrom’s being there, though it couldn’t be a coincidence that Zan’s tire was slashed. He would bet even-money the man had done it. Dale didn’t take well to looking like a fool. And put a woman in as the spoiler, he’d be spitting mad.

  “Up on the right.”

  Zan’s voice brought Jacob from his thoughts as she pointed out her house.

  He pulled into her driveway and parked. She hopped out before he could even get out, much less around to her side of the truck to open the door for her. “You know, it’s customary for the gentleman to help the lady out of the truck.” Jacob was more disappointed not to touch her than to impress her with the manners his grandfather had drilled into him from a young age.

  She laughed. “Where I come from, manners and social graces seemed to have fallen by the wayside with my group of friends.”

  “Maybe you need to make a new group of friends.”

  “Seems I already have.” She winked at him.

  Zan looked cute all wrapped up in his coat. It was several sizes too big, but on her, it looked just right. The thought frightened and excited him all in the same breath. Shaking his thoughts, he grabbed the box of hand-me-downs from Marti and followed her up the porch, and through the front door.

  “Just drop that over by the kitchen.” She motioned to the other side of the room.

  He nodded and walked to the half-wall separating the kitchen from the living room and set the box on the floor. When he stood, he noticed a picture frame on the corner of the bar.

  Zan stood between an old couple, one arm looped over the shoulders of the woman and the other threaded through the man’s. Their smiles matched in brightness.

  As he stared in fascination at the happiness that flowed from their faces, he heard Zan’s footsteps on the hardwood floor behind him.

  “Your grandparents?” he asked.

  When she laughed, he turned and looked at her. The rich sound tightened his gut. All through dinner, she had been polite and fell in perfectly with the conversation, but this was the first time he had heard her open herself up and laugh. He wanted to hear it again.

  “No, those are my parents.”

  Her words drew him from his thoughts.

  He raised his eyebrows, she continued. “I was a surprise. My parents were almost forty when they found out I was coming. I have two older brothers. One will be fifty in a couple of months and the other is forty-five.”

  “Huh.” That was the only thing he could think of to say.

  “What about you?”

  “What about me, what?” He was deliberately being dense as he set the frame back down.

  “Your family?”

  “Oh. No parents, no brothers or sisters. It’s just me and Papaw.”

  “Papaw?”

  Jacob’s cheeks heated. He hadn’t been thinking when he said the nickname. “He’s my granddad.”

  Talking about his family was not something he liked to do—with anyone. It was time to change the subject, but Zan spoke before he could.

  “So why did you take the blame for that other guy? Lisa really ripped into you.”

  Jacob ducked his head. “You heard that, did you?” She probably thought he should have let Eric get what he deserved, but it had been an accident. An accident the kid was not soon to repeat.

  “That—” She put her hand on his forearm. He raised his head and leveled his eyes on hers, “—was the nicest thing I think I have seen anyone do.”

  Uncomfortably aroused, Jacob cleared his throat and stepped away. “Anyone would have done the same.” It was all he could do not to blush and say, “Aw shucks.”

  “No, that’s not true. Most people wouldn’t stick their neck out for someone else.”

  What kind of life was it where men didn’t open doors for women? Where people didn’t stand up for their friends? He might not live an exciting life, but he wouldn’t trade it to live in the world she came from.

  He caught her glancing at the clock. It was time for him to head home. He wanted to see her again but it’d been a while since he asked a woman out. Working up the nerve, he said, “Well, I better go. But I’d like to…”

  The ringing phone stopped him mid-sentence.

  Zan held up her finger for him to hold on while she answered the phone. “Mom. Hi, how are you… Great. Can you hold on a sec?” She cupped her hand over the bottom of the phone and smiled at him, warming him a notch. “Sorry about that. Were you about to say something?”

  “No. I’ll see you around.” He headed for the door.

  “Hey, Jacob, wait.”

  His heart raced at the sound of his name coming from her. Maybe she would take the initiative and ask him out, being from a big city and all.

  “What about my car?”

  Damn. The car. So much for women’s lib.

  Chapter Four

  Zan awoke with a start. Taking a deep breath, she shivered from the chilled air in the room. Sometime during the night, she’d kicked the covers completely off the bed, but she was too exhausted to care.

  Throwing her arm over her eyes, she tried to get back to the darned sleep that had eluded her most of the night. Hearing the buzz of her doorbell, she groaned and rolled over to look at the clock. She jolted out of bed. “Half past nine. I can’t believe it’s so late.”

  Most of the night, she had lain awake thinking about Jacob Bowman. She couldn’t forget the sad, wistful vibes in his voice when he spoke about his granddad. The rough and tumble man sounded like he longed for a family and it nearly broke her heart.

  The front bell buzzed again, pulling her from her thoughts. “Coming,” she yelled as she threw a pair of sweats on, tucking in her nightgown.

  Who could be at her door?

  She didn’t know anyone in town. Jacob. He said he would bring her car by when the tire was fixed. She paused in front of the mirror by her front door—which was a mistake. Her hair spiked out in every direction, worse than the normal wind-blown look.

  Zan quickly finger combed her hair and tamed it the best she could before opening the door.

  The bright morning sun blinded her for a moment and a cool breeze had her wrapping her arms across her chest. Once her eyes adjusted, she had to bite off the cry of surprise that stuck in her throat. Instead of Jacob, the weathered ranch hand she met the day before stood on her porch.

  He pulled his hat from his head and nodded. “Ma’am. I came to drop off your car.” He held her keys out. The pink Minnie Mouse charm hanging from the key-ring looked comical in his big, work-roughened hand.

  She took the keys from him, and then manners finally kicked. “Thank you…” She hesitated, not remembering his name.

  “Hank, ma’am.”

  “Sorry, I haven’t had my coffee yet.” He nodded with a knowing smile as she continued on, “Thank you, Hank. But where is…” She broke off her sentence and fought back her sudden disappointment with a shake of her head. “How much do I owe you?”

  “Nothin’, ma’am.” He shifted from foot to foot. “I’m just the delivery man.”

  “Hank, please stop calling me ma’am.” His blush made her smile. “Just call me Zan.”

  “Yes, ma’am…I mean Zan. You got yourself two new tires and the spare’s in the trunk.”

  “He didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”

  “No trouble t’all.”

  Jacob’s opinion of her needing new friends echoed in her head. Paintbrush kept getting better and better.

  “Could you do me a favor?” She left him standing on the porch before he could answer and ran back inside to grab Jacob’s coat. “He left this here.” When the old man’s
eyebrow arched high, she continued. “He let me borrow it last night. I didn’t have one and it was really cold and…”

  “No need to explain.” Hank took the coat, set his hat atop his head and gave a quick nod before heading off down the stairs to the sidewalk. “Have a good day now.”

  She watched the older man walk away, still disappointed Jacob hadn’t delivered the car himself. Then a thought struck her. Zan called after him. “Hank, do you need a ride back to the ranch?”

  He stopped in mid-stride. “No, thank you. My daughter is fixing lunch for me in a bit and I’ll get a ride home from her.”

  “O…okay. You have a nice day.” Her voice didn’t sound sincere, even to her own ears.

  She’d wanted to see Jacob. Needed to see him if for nothing else than to remind herself he was a mere mortal and not some figment of her undersexed imagination. The way he had invaded her thoughts since he left her the night before might be a hard sell, though. Hell, even before she learned his name, during their brief but memorable run-in at the diner, he’d haunted her dreams. Now she would have to make an effort to go see him, to quench some weird, unnerving desire to talk to him again.

  “Zan,” Hank said.

  She’d forgotten he was still standing on the sidewalk.

  “He ain’t home,” he said as if reading her thoughts. “Jacob done gone to town and headed out. He goes up to Sheridan on Saturdays to see his granddad.”

  “Thanks, Hank.” His face reddened at her bright smile. “See you around.” She waved and shut the front door.

  “Tomorrow,” Zan said aloud. “I’ll go out and see him tomorrow. To pay him back,” she quickly added to herself. A wry smile spread, she still owed him for the tires.

  She looked around the sparsely decorated house. Loneliness tugged at her gut. Back home when she was stir crazy she could run over to a family member’s house or to her friend Mackenzie’s. Here, Aunt Bonnie was a two-hour drive away.

  She and Missy, from the diner, had hit it off. Maybe she needed to spend more time with her. They were about the same age and it would give her someone to talk with. And there again was Jacob. She could always befriend him—if wanting to rip his clothes off and lick every inch of his muscular body was friendly.

  ———

  “Hey, Zan.” Missy Lunsford waved from behind the counter in the diner.

  “Hi. What’s the special today?” Zan asked.

  Missy rattled off two of Clara’s best dishes. Of course, Zan had discovered the woman didn’t make a bad dish. Having yet to break in her own kitchen, she’d eaten every meal in the diner. After placing her order, Zan noticed Hank sitting down at the end of the counter.

  “Hank, I thought you were having lunch with your daughter.”

  He looked up from his plate and smiled. “I am.” He pointed to the doubled doors Missy had just exited through with her order.

  Zan raised her eyebrows. “Missy?”

  “Yes ma’am, er, ah Zan. She’s my pride and joy.” He winked at his daughter when she came back out.

  “Aw, now Daddy, don’t go spreading it on like that. You know Ryder is your favorite. He’s my son,” she said as an aside but had a huge smile on her face as she refilled her father’s coffee cup.

  “Yeah, you may be right. I am kinda partial to the boy.” Hank dipped his head, but Zan could see the smirk on his face.

  “Daddy!” Missy laughed and swatted at him with a dish towel.

  Zan enjoyed watching them with each other, but damn she missed her parents. And her brothers and their families.

  Being so far away from them all, it brought home how much she did depend on her family. But not Charles. During their relationship, she hadn’t been able to open herself to him and give herself fully, she shut down even. He hadn’t instilled that…bliss she’d always imagined came from falling in love. She shuddered to think that she almost married him.

  “Hank. I thought I heard you out here.”

  The trio looked up to see Clara with a screwdriver in one hand and a hammer in the other.

  “Whatcha need, Clara?” Hank wiped his mouth with his napkin.

  “Dern pantry door is stuck again.” The thin-as-a-rail cook wiped her brow with her shirtsleeve. “Could you come give us a hand?”

  “Sure thing.” He rose and winked at Missy and Zan before he disappeared into the kitchen.

  Zan had just finished her bowl of stew and was about to order Clara’s blueberry cobbler when Dale Holstrom walked into the diner. He immediately narrowed his eyes at her.

  “Missy, check please,” Zan said with far too much impatience.

  Missy nodded with a knowing frown.

  Looking around, Zan scanned the empty tables and booths. Most of the lunch customers had already left. Only one couple remained. Would Dale cause a scene with such a small, yet nosey, audience?

  Unfortunately, the look on his face said, “yep”.

  “I thought I’d find you here.” Dale stalked across the room toward her.

  Zan’s brow scrunched. “You’re looking for me?”

  “You think you can just call the sheriff and blame me for what happened. I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you can’t go around messin’ with Dale Holstrom.”

  Figures he would talk about himself in third person.

  “I have no clue what you’re talking about. I’ve been sitting here eating lunch.”

  He advanced on her quickly and hauled her from the stool by her upper arms. Fear and pain shot through her.

  “You know damn well what I am talking about. You told the sheriff I slit your tire.”

  “No, I didn’t.” What was he talking about? “You slit my tire? Why?”

  “I di…shut up. The sheriff came knocking on my door at six o’clock this morning, thanks to you.”

  “Look, Dale.” Zan’s arms were going numb while she tried to think of something to say. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t spoken to the sheriff. As a matter of fact I’ve never even met the man. Now if you could just let go of…”

  Dale shook her with two quick thrusts, cutting off her words. “You will not mess with Dale Holstrom, do you hear me?”

  Deciding it was better to agree at that moment than to stand her ground, she nodded just as Hank came out from the back. “What’s all the ruckus?”

  “Never you mind, old man.” Dale spit on Zan as he spoke. “We’re just having a friendly chat.”

  “Doesn’t look none too friendly to me.” Hank came out from behind the counter and advanced on the much-younger man. “Now why don’t you let the girl go?”

  “I agree. You need to let the girl go.” A large, burley man said from the front door.

  Zan took in his pressed brown uniform and his tan felt hat. She couldn’t read the name on the star pinned to his pocket, but she would bet he was none other than Sheriff Howard Reese.

  Thank God.

  Sheriff Reese took his hat off and walked over to where Dale still held on to Zan. Finally, with a huff, Dale shoved Zan back into Hank. A collective sigh echoed through the nearly empty room. The couple at the table paid their bill and left.

  Zan rubbed her upper arms. The pain throbbed where his large hands had gripped her.

  Dale narrowed his eyes again at her, but made no further threats, then turned and walked toward the door.

  “Wait right there, Dale,” the sheriff called to him.

  Dale rolled his shoulders and stepped through the door, letting it sweep shut behind him. He glared at her over the “enter” sign in the glass pane window.

  “Ma’am would you like to file an assault charge against Mr. Holstrom?”

  She averted her gaze away from Dale and back to the sheriff. Would she? Was it worth it if she made him angrier? Despite not knowing what was going on with her tire, she debated letting it go, if nothing else to keep the peace. “Can I file a complaint, but not have him arrested.”

  The man frowned. “If that’s what you want.”

/>   A little voice inside her told her it was a good idea to file a report one way or the other, but she didn’t want to piss him off further. He deserved to have his ass thrown in jail, even if his father would just bail him out. With the sheriff as witness to what happened, Dale couldn’t very well say she’d made it up. “Yes, sir. I’ll file a complaint.”

  Hopefully, now he’d get the hint she wouldn’t back down easy and he’d leave her the hell alone. She gave him a quick account of all that had happened from the moment Dale walked into the diner.

  The sheriff took a statement from Hank. “I’ll be right back.” He crossed behind the back of the counter to talk to Clara.

  Dropping her hands from her sore arms, Zan held onto the counter to steady herself. She was a strong woman, but she could only take so much confrontation in one lifetime.

  “You okay?” Hank patted her between the shoulder blades.

  She nodded, but wasn’t so sure.

  “Here you go. On the house.” Missy sat a bowl of chocolate ice cream on the counter. “It always makes me feel better.”

  Her legs shook. She all but fell onto the stool then picked up the spoon from the ice cream bowl and twirled it around in her fingers. The lunch she’d already eaten threatened to come back up, and she didn’t want to add to the mix, but Missy was watching her expectantly like the ice cream was a cure-all.

  She dipped the spoon into the chocolate and almost moaned when she tasted the wonderfully rich flavor. As far as cure-alls went, this wasn’t too bad.

  Zan glanced up at the man next to her. Hank was lined from many years working out in the hot, unforgiving Wyoming sun. He shared the same whiskey-colored eyes as his daughter, and both held a level of compassion she didn’t expect from people she’d just met. Much like Jacob and so unlike Dale. “I still don’t quite understand the deal with my tires. Why would Dale think I told the sheriff about my flat?”

  Hank’s cheeks pinkened. “Jacob spoke with the sheriff after he dropped you off.”

  Her stomach fluttered at his name. “Jacob thought Dale did it?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. He said it was a flat,” Zan tried denying. She didn’t want to believe any different, because if it was true Dale touched—even damaged—her car, then her happy, peaceful existence just soured.