Roman's Choice (Saddles & Second Chances Book 1)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  That was alright by him. He wanted to get the mess taken care of and move on.

  Yet, moving on wasn’t so easy when Pippa had haunted his every hour. He woke up this morning with a need that left him hard, and not even a good hand job could eradicate the thought of her.

  He felt a tug on the back of his shirt. He turned to find his six-year-old niece, Brie, standing at the fence, a frown on her otherwise adorable face. “Hey, short stuff. Aren’t you supposed to be inside with the sitter?”

  She placed her hands on her hips and tilted one, preparing for her future as a diva cowgirl. She was getting there fast. “Uncle Ro, I’m bored. Daddy promised he’d take me for ice cream this afternoon.”

  Roman jumped off the fence and held his hand over the top rail. “Okay, baby girl. We’ll work together to end the conversation between your dad and Uncle Urban. They’ve had their fun, now we need to put a kink in it.”

  Brie laid her tiny hand into his, climbed the fence and Roman grabbed her up into his arms. He didn’t know a lot about kids, but he’d spent enough time with his niece to know that she was the sweetest, prettiest girl this side of the world, and with four brawny uncles to spoil her rotten, she thought she was a princess. They all realized they needed a good dose of a feminine touch around the ranch, especially for Brie’s sake, but unfortunately, he and his brothers had all loved and lost in some way, shape, or form, and the only second chances they had were in business.

  As Roman crossed the dirt toward his brothers, still holding Brie in his arms, they threw him an annoyed look, then looked at the little girl with a softer expression. Whatever they were arguing about, they didn’t want to continue the conversation in front of her, just as Roman had suspected would happen. Weston was a great father and he always looked out for the best interest of his daughter. It wasn’t easy being a single father, but he was doing a damn good job.

  He and his brothers all stood at the same height, give or take a half inch here or there. They had similar physical traits, no matter how much they denied their similarities. They’d all won their father’s gene pool, and although he’d been gone for five years now, they still lived according to his rules. One. Watch each other’s back. Family will always be family. Two. Work a hard day. Live like a fat cat at night. Three. Find the perfect woman and you’ll never be unhappy. If Van Jericho could see his sons now, he’d probably roll over in his grave. None of the sons were lucky in love. In fact, they were downright unlucky.

  Roman felt a stab to his heart. Vegas was a perfect example of how unfortunate.

  “I always knew you’d make a good manny,” Weston said when Roman and Brie got closer. “You’d be better as a sitter than you are with building fences. I see you still haven’t finished the one on the north side of the property.”

  Roman tilted his jaw, settling his narrowed gaze on his oldest brother. “Real funny, bro. If I didn’t have precious cargo in my arms, I’d show you who the manny is.”

  Weston’s lips jerked as if he was trying real hard to keep from laughing. “I ain’t kidding about the fence, manny.”

  “Why you calling Uncle Ro Minnie?” Brie asked, rubbing her eyes.

  Urban chuckled. “Not Minnie. Manny. A male version of a nanny.”

  “Like Martha? She’s my nanny, right daddy?” Her was picked up by the breeze and brushed Roman’s nose. He pushed the silken strands from his face.

  “That’s right, doll.” Weston smiled and tickled her under the chin. “Which leaves the question, why are you out here and not with Martha in the house?”

  “She fell asleep. I can’t find nothin’ to do, and you promised you’d take me for ice cream.” She pumped out her bottom lip. The little girl could certainly work those expressions in her favor.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Weston took Brie from Roman, wrinkles appearing around his eyes. There was a reason why he was almost completely silver-haired. “This is the third time in two weeks she’s fallen asleep while watching Brie,” he moaned.

  “Go get her ice cream, bro,” Roman said. “That’s more important than fences and livestock.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to see you two later. Hugh and Penn should be here in a few to help with the vaccinations. Later, make sure they don’t need you in the office, you hear?”

  “Yes, sir.” Urban answered sarcastically.

  Weston gave him a frustrated smirk, then took off across the dirt.

  Although they liked to give Weston a hard time, they respected him as the leader of the family. He knew the ropes of running a ranch and he was great with the ins and outs of the securities company. He always worked hard and watched out for the family’s best interest.

  Once he was beyond the fence, Urban pounded Roman on the back. “Hey, you never did say how the trip went. See that pretty brunette again that Penn mentioned you hooked up with at the rodeo?”

  Nothing was a secret around here. Roman lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “Not much to say. You know I’m not into all of that glamour and bright light shit. That’s your and Hugh’s territory now.”

  “I wish I could have been there, but I rode in the San Antonio Bulls Galore event. Won myself first place too. Hugh’s pissed. He got second.”

  Roman patted him on the back. “Great job.”

  “Now, I asked about the woman.”

  Urban was the youngest of the bunch and could charm a snake with his smile. Roman didn’t doubt that his brother, any of his brothers, could have any woman they wanted, but somehow they’d gotten trapped as bachelors who were workaholics. They had become their own worst enemy. “I went there to work, not play.” He scanned the land, not meeting his brother’s gaze. Roman wasn’t one to kiss and tell—or marry and tell in this circumstance.

  “Damn, bro. Is the tool still working?”

  “Hell yes, the tool still works. Worry about your own body parts and leave mine alone,” Roman growled in warning.

  Urban held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, who pissed in your coffee this morning?”

  Realizing he had overreacted, Roman backed off. “It’s the heat. That’s all.”

  “Ain’t that the truth. My boxers are soaked. Nothing worse than wet underwear.” Urban shifted as if attempting to dislodge cotton from the crack of his ass. He gave a grunt and a smile. “There. Better.”

  “When you ridin’ again?”

  “Next week. Got my new pair of chaps in.”

  Roman couldn’t believe his ears. “What happened to the lucky ones?’

  Urban sighed. “There comes a time when a cowboy has to let go. The luck isn’t in the leather, but the man, right?”

  “They fall apart did they?”

  “Delma refused to mend them again and made me a new pair. I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but I like them—a lot.”

  “See, change can be good.”

  “I hope so.” Urban left the fenced area. “Meet you in the calf pen.”

  Roman turned for the barn, settling his mind on taking care of the calves. They were getting their second round of shots and branding before being turned out with the bulls which took a good amount of time, but it was important they did the process while they were still young. It was all about timing and they had a bigger herd of newborns than the last time.

  Grabbing the rope from the hook inside the barn, he headed to the other side where Penn and Hugh were already waiting by the fence, ropes in hand. “Wow, you two are on time. I’ll be damned,” Roman teased.

  “Since when did you learn to tell time?” Penn replied.

  The slamming of a door made each of them turn their heads toward the truck parked outside of the enclosure. A sign was attached to the door, reading, “Presley Dean—Veterinarian.”

  She stepped up to the fence with her black bag, sending a long, red braid over one shoulder. “You boys ready?”

  “Pick your tongue up off the ground and have some self-respect, bro,” Roman said to Hugh who was having a very difficult time hiding his attraction for
the new vet.

  “Hey there, Presley. How’s business?” Roman asked once she hitched herself over the fence.

  “You know, since dad retired I lost a lot of business. What’s up with folks who don’t understand that a woman can do a job that a man can do, sometimes better?”

  “I second that,” Urban said as he rounded the barn and joined them in the enclosure.

  Presley widened her almond shaped eyes. “Well, it’s good to see that you’re finally seeing things reasonably, Urban.” She and Urban glared at each other like two dogs ready to fight. They didn’t get along. Something about him cutting off her braid back in school. Roman couldn’t remember the story and didn’t care to.

  “Where’s Weston?” Penn asked.

  “He had a family emergency,” Roman said.

  “Babysitter fall asleep again?”

  “Yup.”

  “We do this the same way as always, y’all,” Presley called out, pulling on her gloves. “Remember, it’s important for us to minimize the amount of stress on our youngins’. Nurturing and care will give them optimum chance for a good immune response. It’s really hot today too, boys. That never helps. At least we have lots of shade over here for now.”

  “What happened to the days of shoot ‘em, brand ‘em, and send them on their way?” Urban asked, mostly joking by his shit-eating grin.

  Presley looked like she could shoot darts out of her dark eyes. “I’ve explained this process numerous times.” Her soft Texas twang took away some of her firmness.

  Roman shook his head. “Don’t let him get to you, Presley. We know the drill. It works and it’s efficient.”

  Her smile made her eyes soften. “Then let’s see how you cowboys work.”

  They’d all worked together for years, even when they were tousled headed little boys, and girl, learning the ropes at their father’s hip. Although Presley had kept some of the ideas from her own father who’d been a reputable vet for many years, she’d also integrated a newer vision she had for a more humane process of handling livestock. Since they’d implemented her process, they’d had less injury and stress on the calves.

  As they all settled into their spots, Roman’s mind wandered to a petite brunette who didn’t seem to want to leave his brain, or his gut. She’d planted herself in every part of him. He wasn’t quite sure what the hell had come over him, but he’d lost himself when it came to Pippa Wilder. He hated to admit it, but while he’d waited in the terminal at the airport, he’d Googled her and scrolled through article after article she’d written. He also skimmed through the reviews. There were a handful of haters who slammed her, made her views on marriage and relationship seem too modern. One person had even accused her of being a cold-hearted wench because she was in her thirties, unmarried and childless. Although he doubted Pippa cared what everyone said, something protective inside of him reared its head and he wanted to shelter her. He knew first hand that she was far from being cold or a wench. She was one of the warmest people he’d ever met.

  He’d even went as far as checking her public Facebook page. That’s when he realized how successful his ‘wife’ was in the terms of helping others. Although he wasn’t sure how it was possible, he felt a sense of pride for her.

  Maybe he’d been too quick in calling quits to a marriage that he hadn’t even given a shot. The thought drew his attention to Presley who was hunched down looking over a calf, inspecting it before she gave the shot. A handful of her hair had come loose from the braid and was flowing across her face. He liked the color and thought she was a very pretty woman. She’d made it clear not too long ago that she had a crush on him, but that’s where it ended. Hugh and Presley had dated when they were teens, and although Roman had no clue what happened between them, he didn’t think Hugh had ever gotten over the break-up. Not only would Roman never do that to his brother, but he wasn’t interested.

  However, he needed to lose interest in Pippa. Fast.

  She was a one-night stand, a short romance. Soon their impulsive unity would end and they’d never see each other again. He didn’t need a woman commanding his thoughts.

  Now it was his turn to round up a calf to be treated. He was ready to have his thoughts sidetracked to something more useful. Sliding into the saddle, hooking his rope over his shoulder, he rode toward the group of cows and scanned for the babies who wouldn’t be happy about leaving their moms.

  As easily as if he were born with a rope in his hand and a saddle between his legs, he lassoed his mark and gently reeled in his catch, careful not to stress out the baby. Presley and Hugh were there immediately, releasing the rope and inspecting the calf before doing their part.

  Then on to the next, and three more, before Roman and Urban traded spots.

  His brother wasn’t as smooth with the rope, but when it came to riding, he looked like a pro in the saddle. That’s what made him great at riding bulls.

  “Hey, trying to party without me?”

  Roman looked around to find Weston coming his direction, his rope slung over his shoulder and a grin on his face.

  “Hey, I thought you were with Brie?”

  Weston shrugged. “She ate her ice cream and now she’s happy, with a fully alert sitter who apparently just needed a dose of sugar too.”

  “Ahh, so you’re one of those people, huh?”

  “And who are those people?”

  “Ply a woman with ice cream and leave her. No wonder you don’t have a relationship to speak of.”

  “Pfft. Who has time for a relationship? Not me.” He climbed into his saddle and took off to the center of the group of cattle. With Weston on the scene, they’d be done faster.

  When the last calf was vaccinated and branded, Roman smacked his gloves together and dirt clouded above him. He guessed he had a layer of dust on his body and clothes too.

  Later that evening as he watched the lengthening shadows slant across the front yard like fingers brushing the grass, Roman sat in the rocker on his porch and took a sip from the cold bottle of beer. After finishing with the calves, he’d come home and taken care of his own animals. Then he’d finally gotten a shower and opened a cold one. It’d been a long day, but he was recuperating fast.

  He patted his scraggly old dog who laid sprawled out beside him. “Bojangles. You enjoying the evening?”

  The dog made a whimpering sound, but didn’t stand. The boy was getting old and his bones were sore. Presley had stopped by to see him before she left the ranch and said that he seemed better, lazier, but better, after the shot she’d given him for arthritis. If it’d been her father who examined Bojangles, he would have suggested putting the old dog out of his misery instead of bothering with injections to treat him. Roman wasn’t quite ready to pull the curtain on his dog. For the last twelve years the scraggly friend had been a loyal companion.

  Staring out over his land, he always had a strong sense of pride. His father had divided fifty acres of the property evenly among his sons to do with how they pleased, keeping the rest intact as the main property for business. Each brother had built a home on their land, except Weston who stayed in the family home where they’d grown up. Van died and had willed the house to Weston.

  Here on his ten acres, Roman had built two barns. He had his own horses and livestock that he was responsible for. Good thing he wasn’t allergic to hard work or he’d be in trouble.

  His two story house wasn’t a mansion, but it suited him just fine. Two bedrooms, a TV, a nice porch, and a roof was really all a man needed. But what about a woman’s needs?

  His mind traveled straight to Pippa. He shouldn’t care what she’d think of his place. It wasn’t as if she cared, or would ever see it.

  He took another swig and thought over what tomorrow would bring. He’d finally finish the fence, make Weston happy, and then he’d be in the office going over the books for the ranch and security finances. None of his brothers enjoyed crunching numbers. It wasn’t as if Roman relished the work, but somehow he found he liked seeing t
he reward of hard work.

  Shifting in the wooden chair, the slats creaked. He propped his booted foot on the rail that served as a footstool when he was tired. He listened and heard nothing but silence. He liked it, especially after today.

  Tomorrow they had two new ranchers starting and they’d have to be shown the ropes. Weston had taken on the project, thankfully. One of the boys, Trevor, a nineteen-year-old boy who was the son of a neighbor and friend would be a great addition. He was smart and working his way through college. His parents didn’t have much money, but they were kind and had always been close friends so Roman was glad to help where he could.

  The Jerichos had always been generous to the community. They gave financially and in service where needed. All of them volunteered at the fire department. During the holidays they helped at the local homeless shelter, and they supported a Christmas fund that meant children would have gifts under the tree. Roman had played Santa on more than one occasion.

  Their father had taught them to be compassionate and kind. Two important values that all of the Jericho boys inherited.

  Dust appeared down the lane coming his way. Bojangles gave the obligatory growl under his breath, but didn’t bother lifting his head. “Now don’t you worry, Bo. Don’t let anything or anyone disturb your peace, buddy.” Roman shook his head and placed his bottle on the small glass table next to the rocker. Once the dust cloud got closer he realized it was Trevor’s dad, Ted, driving his old beat up blue truck.

  A minute later, Ted pulled up, shut off the engine and slid from the driver’s side. He’d served a deployment in the Gulf War while in the Marines and was caught by a dirty bomb, blowing off his leg from the knee down and leaving him near death. Doctors were able to save his life as well as the remaining portion of his injured leg. He’d gotten a prosthetic leg and walked with a limp, but no one noticed because he always wore a bright smile.

  Roman noticed the pie in his friend’s hand and chuckled. “Is that for me?”

  “Betty made her famous peach pie and made one extra for you. She knows how you love them.”

  Ted’s family, as well as the Jerichos, had been in Colton for generations.