Second Chance Cowboy

by B. J Daniels

She turned to leave.

  “Arlene!” He swore. “I’ve handled this so damned poorly. Won’t you at least hear me out?”

  “I hear you just fine,” she called back to him as she hurried to her pickup. She started the engine and backed up, fighting the pain, the disappointment, the hurt.

  He was still standing on the porch as she drove away.

  She wouldn’t cry.

  She.

  Would.

  Not.

  Cry.

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning Arlene Evans did something completely out of character. She got up, showered, dressed and drove into Whitehorse without making her bed, without making her son breakfast, without cleaning up her house or starting a load or two of clothes in the washer.

  Twenty minutes later she was sitting in the Cut and Curl, so nervous she could barely contain herself.

  “You’re sure?” Linsey asked, looking more worried than Arlene felt. Clearly all the women in the shop had been shocked to see Arlene walk in—and nervous. “I could just trim a little—”

  “No. Cut it off.” Arlene closed her eyes at the sound of the scissors. She felt the slight tug at the end of her long, thick hair. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, feeling as if she was losing more than hair. There was a literal attachment to her hair, a familiarity, a constant that she wasn’t sure she could part with.

  Too late.

  She felt the brush of fingers next to her ear, the cool feel of her wet hair, the whisper of the comb, then the snap of the scissors again and again.

  She kept her eyes closed, let her thoughts run. The anger she’d felt at Hank seemed to leave her like the long strands of her hair. She felt herself changing and realized it had been gradual for some time now.

  Ever since he’d walked into her life. It was as if he’d started something that couldn’t be stopped. He’d been the catalyst. But even with him gone from her life, she couldn’t stop what was happening to her.

  What’s more, she didn’t hear her mother’s voice in her head, berating her, anymore.

  And was it just her imagination or did her head feel almost weightless?

  She heard Linsey sweeping up the hair around the chair, then finally a timid question, “Want to take a look, Mrs. Evans?”

  “Arlene,” she said. “Please call me Arlene.” Slowly she opened her eyes. Her hair was still damp, chin-length but layered so it fell in soft curls around her face.

  She stared at herself in the mirror. A stranger. No, she thought, tears welling in her eyes. She knew this woman. This was the woman she could have been. Should have been. This woman had something the old Arlene never had—a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

  “You hate it,” Linsey said, taking a step back.

  “No,” Arlene said quickly. “I love it.” She smiled, surprised how the cut seemed to soften her face, even her voice. “I love it.”

  Linsey breathed a relieved sigh and smiled. “It looks good on you. You look so…different.”

  The other women in the shop added their approval, as well.

  Arlene nodded. She felt different. “Thank you.”

  Linsey beamed. Clearly she’d been worried.

  Arlene paid her, giving her a nice tip, and stepped out of the shop, lighter, freer somehow. Amazing what a haircut could do. If she’d known this, she would have gotten one a lot sooner.

  She smiled at the thought because it was so unlikely. That old Arlene Evans would have hated this haircut. That Arlene had spent years hiding behind her hair.

  She listened for her mother’s two cents worth.

  Not a word.

  She smiled, feeling freer than she had ever imagined she could feel…except for that little ache in her heart where Hank had been.

  A WARM DRY WIND blew across the rolling hills keeling over the tall green grass. Hank rode his horse toward the horizon, dust churning up behind him.

  In the distance the Little Rockies met the sky in a ragged dark line of deep purple. Above him a hawk soared in all that blue, and only a wisp of clouds scudded along high overhead.

  As he rode, he could almost imagine the endless herds of buffalo that had rumbled over this land before him. Before barbed wire. Before the white man.

  As a boy, he’d never dreamed of anything like this. Not the land. Nor the ranch. Or even the horse beneath him.

  Hell, he’d never dreamed at all. As young as he’d been, he’d seen his future in the dirty streets, in the faces of the poor and disheartened. Cameron had rescued him from that urban squalor. And Hank had blamed him ever since.

  You’re not angry at Cameron. You’re furious with yourself and you know damned well why.

  He’d been mentally kicking himself all morning. Usually he could lose himself on horseback as if transported to another time, another life in this immense country.

  But not today.

  All he could think about was Arlene. He hated the way he’d left things last night.

  All his fault. He should never have signed up for the dating service, let alone asked her out. Had he really thought he could put his past behind him? A past like his?

  There were no second chances.

  And yet, even as he thought it, he rebelled at the idea. The moment he’d seen Arlene that day in the café he’d been filled with a desire to start over. Maybe he had asked her out on impulse. Certainly she had tugged at his heartstrings.

  And maybe it had originally been a pity date, just as she’d accused him. He’d seen himself in her and felt sorry for them both. How pitiful was that?

  He’d been lonely. He’d wanted someone to share this part of his life with. He’d sensed that Arlene needed a second chance as much as he did.

  What had he thought? That he’d find an uncomplicated woman? As if there was such a thing. But Arlene definitely wasn’t that.

  She was the most complex woman he’d ever met. Maybe that had been part of the fascination, as well. He’d never met anyone like her. She’d lived. Just as he had. And they both had the scars to prove it.

  The difference was, his old baggage could get him killed. Arlene thought she’d messed up her life? She had no idea the kind of trouble he could bring to her.

  He did what he had to do. Walked away. For her sake.

  You always were so full of bull, Hank Monroe.

  He swore under his breath. Okay, maybe Arlene did scare him. Being with her would be complicated. She made him feel things he’d hoped never to feel again. He’d wanted someone to spend time with, not someone he might fall in love with.

  Arlene made him want to step up and be a better man. When he was with her he felt so deeply….

  He drew his horse up as a spooked herd of antelope thundered down a sandy-bluffed draw, their color blending perfectly with their surroundings.

  “So what the hell are you going to do?” Hank asked himself, his words sailing off on the wind.

  He could try to outrun his past. Or he could stay and fight. It was ironic, in a way, that he had moved to a part of Montana that had been lawless until as late as the early 1900s. At least back then you could tell the good guys from the bad even when they weren’t wearing their hats.

  His horse shuddered under him and took an impatient step as if to say, Make a decision.

  It wasn’t that he hadn’t known until that moment what he wanted. He just hadn’t admitted it.

  With a curse, he turned his horse back toward the ranch. He’d lived by one rule his whole life: There were some things worth fighting for even against the odds.

  This life here in this part of Montana was worth fighting for. So was Arlene.

  Not that it didn’t scare the hell out of him. But he’d made up his mind. He’d tell Arlene everything. He’d understand if she wanted nothing to do with him given his past—and the fact that a hired killer might be coming after him.

  After taking care of his horse, he hurried into the house from the barn to answer his ringing phone, thinking it might be Arlene.

  He
didn’t reach his office in time. The answering machine picked up.

  “Hank.” Cameron’s voice.

  He felt a chill shudder through him.

  “Good news. You’ve been approved for digital TV. And that little problem we had with your credit—that’s been taken care of. So it’s all locked up. Nothing to worry about. Hope that makes your day.” There was a click on the line. The answering machine hummed a while longer and then fell silent.

  Rena. They’d caught her.

  Now all he had to do was find Arlene and hope she’d give him another chance.

  ARLENE CAUGHT HER reflection in the window as she headed for her pickup and felt a jolt as it took her a moment to even recognize herself.

  She heard a car door open and close and saw Hank coming toward her from across the street.

  She didn’t know what to feel after last night. But as hard as she tried, she couldn’t crush the pleasure that sprang up inside her at just the sight of him.

  He smiled, taking in her hair, her face. The tenderness of his gaze was almost her undoing. “Hello, beautiful,” he said.

  She couldn’t help but laugh. Not her usual donkey laugh, this one soft, throaty. His good mood was contagious. So different from the man on his porch last night. What had brought about this change?

  She’d promised herself that when she saw him again she wouldn’t allow herself to feel anything. That she would go back to being impervious, back to the woman who wouldn’t show her hurt even if it killed her.

  But there was no going back. Her pleasure showed in her face. She could feel it. Just like her vulnerability. She had no defenses against this man.

  “I’m sorry about last night,” Hank said quickly. “I need to tell you what’s been going on with me if you’ll give me the chance. I came to find you. Mind taking a ride?”

  “You really don’t need to explain,” Arlene said, fearing the explanation could be more painful than even what had been said last night.

  He stepped to her so quickly she didn’t have a chance to react. His arm encircled her waist. He pulled her to him, his mouth dropping to hers.

  The kiss took her even more by surprise. It was filled with passion and yearning and possession.

  And when it ended, he pulled back to look in her eyes. “Please give me a second chance.”

  She could do nothing more than nod, her heart a thunder in her chest as he slipped her hand into his large one and they walked across the street like that. She knew that Linsey and the others would be watching from the window, speculating, but she didn’t care. His kiss had warmed her all over, and his hand felt so good, warm, lightly callused, strong.

  He drove her out to his ranch, touching her cheek or her hand or her arm occasionally on the way, as if afraid she might bolt.

  She’d heard about the house on the rumor mill, but the only local she knew who’d been inside since Hank had bought it was Claudia Nicholson, who cleaned for him.

  “I know it’s too big,” he said as he shoved open the door and stepped back to let her enter.

  “I’m not sure what I was thinking.”

  She looked around the massive living room and kitchen and thought about what Bo had said to her. Hank definitely had money. Did the government pay this well?

  “Would you like something to drink?” he offered.

  She shook her head, concentrating on breathing. Difficult this close to him. She could smell his clean, freshly showered scent. He wore jeans that on him looked sexier than any cowboy’s south forty she’d ever seen.

  “I want to be honest with you,” he said, stepping to her. “I’m crazy about you. Last night I panicked because there was a problem with my former occupation, a loose end that—Oh, hell, a rogue agent I thought was dead who apparently isn’t. But I just found out that she’s been caught.”

  “She?” Arlene had to ask.

  He nodded. “It’s a long story and I don’t want to talk about the past. I want…” His gaze locked with hers. “I want you.” He let out a small laugh. “Hell, Arlene, you’re all I think about. I’m asking you to take a risk here.”

  A shiver skated the length of her spine at his words. Take a risk? She smiled at that. He had no idea how much of a risk she was taking. Her heart, her hope, the chance of losing this woman she felt herself becoming before she even had a chance to know her.

  She was scared. Not of this man’s past. But of the future. Especially the immediate future.

  I want you.

  If she stayed here, she knew they would end up making love. Or at least she hoped so.

  Had she ever made love? She had three grown children, but she knew what Floyd had done to her certainly was nothing like in books or movies. Not only that, she hadn’t been with a man in…She couldn’t even remember the last time Floyd had touched her.

  “I’m not afraid,” she lied, her voice breaking.

  He smiled. “I can see that.”

  She touched his cheek with the tips of her fingers. That first step, she thought, is always the hardest. But she took it, closing the distance between them. Her pulse thrummed as she cupped his face in her palms and kissed him. He drew her close and she melted into him, knowing there was no turning back now.

  HANK COULD FEEL Arlene trembling and warned himself to take it slow. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been with a woman. But, fortunately, it was a lot like riding a bike. And this woman made his desire flare and burst into flame. He brushed a lock of her hair back from her cheek. “I like your haircut. It suits you.”

  Her smile was shy. “I don’t know myself anymore.”

  “I do,” he said and kissed her. She came to him, her body softening against his. He saw her arousal in the warm brown of her eyes, flickering heat that flashed and fired as he touched her. A brush of fingers along her slim throat. The glimmer of a touch to her lips with his tongue. The gentle press of his palm hot against her back as he drew her in.

  She moaned softly at his touch, fanning his own desire. He slipped the top button on her shirt, his fingers brushing the tender skin at her throat. She shivered as he slipped the next button free, exposing the top of her bra. He saw her throat work as she swallowed. In her eyes, fear mixed with excitement, with desire, with raw need.

  The bra was white, the rounded curves of her breasts just as white. His fingertips skimmed over her tender bare skin, the flesh rippling with goose bumps ahead of his touch.

  Slowly he opened her shirt and slipped it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. She swallowed again. His gaze locked with hers as he ran his hands over her bare shoulders and down her arms. He could see the hardened nipples of her breasts pressed against the white fabric of her bra.

  He reached behind her, unhooked the bra and freed her breasts. As the fabric brushed the hard tips, she made a sound deep in her throat that skyrocketed his own need. He’d never wanted a woman as badly as he wanted this one.

  ARLENE FELT WEAK, her legs like water as Hank took her full breasts in his big hands, branding her flesh with heat. Her nipples hardened to aching peaks as his gaze traveled over the swell of her breasts.

  She let out a moan, her head falling back as he lowered his mouth to lathe the dark nipples with his tongue. Heat shot to her center. Her insides felt molten and she thought she would die if he didn’t take her—and soon.

  “Hank,” she said on a breath. “Please.”

  He cupped her bottom with his hands, lifting her off the floor as he carried her to the couch of soft, deep leather. She sank into it, Hank beside her. At the touch of a button, blinds dropped over the windows in a whisper.

  His kisses were slow and sensuous. She felt the heat begin to build even higher, a slow, steady flame that licked along her nerve endings.

  In the cool, dim light, her fingers worked quickly to remove his shirt, her palms itching to feel the warmth of his chest. With each button freed she discovered tanned, smooth flesh lightly sprinkled with honey-brown hair that narrowed to a vee at the top of his
jeans.

  As she spread his shirt wide, he dragged her on top of him, her breasts pressed into his hard chest. She heard his sharp intake of breath, felt the hardness of him, the soft tenderness of his mouth as he kissed her.

  They wriggled out of their jeans as they rolled around on the huge couch like teenagers, grappling and groping.

  Hank let out a chuckle as, finally naked, he pulled her against him so they were lying side by side, facing each other. “You feel so damned good, Arlene Evans.”

  She felt his fingers slip between her thighs. She let out a small surprised, pleased cry as he touched her. Her heart began to pound, her breasts ached from her hardened nipples and, against her will, her hips began to move with the motion of his fingers.

  “Hank.” The word came out on a gasp.

  “Hank!”

  The feeling rocked through her, blinding her, shocking her, liberating her.

  He rolled on top of her, his breath tickling her neck as he trailed kisses over her jawline to her mouth. His eyes locked with hers and she saw recognition in his gaze. His look softened, and she felt embarrassed and ashamed that this was the first time she’d ever felt this. All those wasted years.

  But almost at once the feeling vanished. She had a lot of years to make up for. Starting right now. He raised himself over her and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  She lifted her hips to meet him, wanting him inside her, needing him inside her.

  And then he filled her, making her catch her breath. She rocked against him, caught up in the rhythm of lovemaking for the first time.

  That building inside her started again. The beginning of a roller-coaster ride, the climbing up, up, up until she thought she couldn’t go any higher or she would start screaming. And then she reached the top, Hank right there with her, and they plummeted down the other side in a breathtaking release of pleasure beyond her wildest dreams.

  They lay together, locked in each others arms, panting and laughing and gazing longingly at one another.

  “Wow,” he said as he rose up on one elbow to look down at her.

  And suddenly she felt shy and a little embarrassed as his gaze took in the length of her. She froze as she saw him focus on her cesarean scar and quickly tried to cover it with her arm, but he stopped her, moving her arm aside as he sat up.