Second Dance Cowboy (Second Chance)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  Dropping his hand to his side, he snorted. “Fine, but I want to see my son tomorrow. I have that right.”

  “What makes you so sure he wants to see you?” The air grew colder.

  “Ask him. If he says no, I’ll go away. But if he says yes, you got to do right by that boy.” He reached into his pocket, brought out a pen and reached for her hand. She pulled back. “Relax. Unless you have a piece of paper.” Reluctantly, she held out her palm. Richie scribbled a number on her skin. When his touch lingered too long, she pulled away. “Call me by noon tomorrow or I’ll have to come here again.”

  And he was gone.

  For the longest time she stood in the same spot, long after the lights of Richie’s motorcycle had faded into the foggy night. Her skin grew chilled, forcing her inside. She could hear Bettie and Uncle Marty’s laughter coming from the kitchen, grateful that neither he nor Oliver had seen Richie.

  Climbing the stairs, she went straight into her bedroom and dropped to the bed, burying her face into the pillow. If she screamed, would they hear? She couldn’t take the risk.

  Richie wanted to see Oliver. She had no right to keep Oliver from him that was if he wanted to see his dad.

  Her thoughts slipped to Dillon. She wanted to call him—she needed him.

  Reaching for the phone, she stopped.

  As much as she wanted to hear his voice, old demons seeped through her conscious. Richie wouldn’t just walk away, she knew him too well. He’d caused her much heartache in the past. Why had she given so many years to someone who didn’t deserve one second?

  A faint knock came at her door. “Yes?”

  “Mom?”

  “Come in, Ollie.” She sat up, quickly finger combing her hair and smoothing her wrinkled shirt—hoping her intelligent son didn’t see the remnants of tears.

  He stepped in, worried lines of his own marring his sweet features. “Did Dillon leave?” She nodded. “Did Dad leave?”

  Her mouth fell open and she snapped it shut, thinking over her next words. When had she ever thought she could hide anything from her son? “You knew he was here, huh?”

  He gave a quick nod and came to sit down on the edge of the bed. “I wanted to see what was taking Dillon so long. I saw Dad standing by the stairs.”

  “You didn’t want to say hi?” She put aside her feelings.

  “I dunno.” One slender shoulder raised then slumped. “I wasn’t sure.”

  “I understand.” She patted his hand, her heart going out to him. “I didn’t know he was coming, or I would have told you. I wasn’t sure what I should do.”

  “He does that a lot. Comes and goes. That’s not fair.”

  Her little guy was quickly becoming a young man, moments like this made that fact clear. His dad’s disappearing and reappearing act had to stop. “He has asked to see you.” She had no reason to keep Richie’s intentions secret. Secrets were never good, and Dillon’s situation was a good example. She’d done all she could to keep the communication open.

  Seconds passed until finally he sighed and nodded. “I think I should see him. What do you think, mom?”

  Wrapping her arm around his thin shoulders, she squeezed. “I will back you in whatever you choose. I know it’s hard to see sometimes, but your father does love you. When you were born, he held you and cried. He said you looked just like him when he was a baby and he was so proud.”

  “I don’t think he cares much. Doesn’t seem like he does.”

  Peyton blinked away tears. “Some people have a hard time showing others how they feel. Your father didn’t have it easy growing up. No excuses for him, but it’s important to remember that not every kid has a loving home. And I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love you.”

  “You don’t regret having me?” His gaze met hers and his innocence tore through her.

  “My precious boy, I wouldn’t change a thing. From the moment you came into my life I knew how special you are. Where else would I get my smiles from?” She tickled his neck and he laughed, but it didn’t last long “Hey, are you in the mood for ice cream? I know I am.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Together they walked down the stairs and Peyton knew she had to protect her son.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  PEYTON HEARD THE car pulling up in the driveway and stepped out on the porch. Oliver climbed from the passenger side of Richie’s borrowed car.

  “Hey, mom.” Oliver gave her a quick kiss on the cheek as he rushed to the door.

  “Did you have a good time?” This evening was the third time Richie had picked up Oliver and took him out—playing soccer, to dinner and tonight they’d went to a movie. Although she’d been doubtful of Richie’s intention, she couldn’t deny that he seemed to want to get to know Oliver again.

  “Yeah, the movie was great. I want to show dad my new game.” He ran inside.

  “Okay.” She laughed, happy to see her son smiling. She turned to Richie. “Thank you for taking him to see the movie. Robots aren’t really my thing,” she said.

  “Thank you for letting me see him this week. While he’s inside, can I talk to you a minute?” Richie’s expression sent chills down her spine. She knew the look and had seen it too often.

  “When are you leaving?” The words rushed from her.

  He slid his hand through his hair and blew out a long breath through his lips. “You always did know me.”

  Wrapping her arms around her waist, her insides shook. “I guess I do.” And she realized he’d never change. He still wore the same rock-star clothing he wore in his twenties.

  “The band and I have decided to tour Europe. Man, it’s a great opportunity.”

  “Aren’t they all?” She couldn’t hold back the bitterness. “How long will this one last?”

  “One year, maybe two…if it goes good.” He pushed his hands into his front pockets and dug at the grass with the toe of his boots. “Anyway, you know it’s over between you and me.”

  Her moan seemed to echo for miles across the farmland. “Is that fact just now registering? And what does that have to do with Oliver and you being his father?” For years, he’d manipulated her, and she’d grown strong. He’d never ruffle her feathers as he once had, she wouldn’t let him.

  “Oliver seems to like Cowboy. I get a feeling his mother does too.” His dark eyes met hers across the grass.

  “Let’s not veer off the path here, Richie. Have you told Oliver that you’re leaving again so soon?”

  He shrugged a slender shoulder. “I thought you should. You always were much better about breaking bad news.”

  “That’s because I never had a choice, now did I?”

  “Come on, Pey. You know I can’t stay here. What would a guy like me do? I’m not a man who’d wear a cowboy hat and boots. Or ride a horse.”

  “No, you aren’t. “ Peyton wanted to verbally blast him, but it’d be a waste of breath.

  “I’ve got to go. I gotta meet up with the band tomorrow. You tell Oliver I’ll call.” With that, he turned and made a quick beeline to the car.

  The lights were fading as the screen door came open and Oliver dashed out. “I found it!” He held up the case as his smile vanished. “Where did he go?”

  Tears filled Peyton’s eyes but she blinked them back. She needed to be strong. Unfortunately, she’d gone through this too many times. “I’m sorry, Ollie, he had to leave.”

  His shoulders drooped. “Will he be back?”

  “Let’s have a seat, son.” She reached for his hand but he pulled back.

  “Mom, I’m not a child anymore. I know how he is. He’s leaving again, right?”

  Her child was mature beyond his years. “Yes, he has a gig in Europe. I’m sorry, Ollie.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “It’s okay. It was good while it lasted. Is it okay if I go upstairs and play a game?” His hand was already on the door.

  “Yes, we’ll have dinner in a while. I’ll call you down.” The slamming of the door broke the barricade
of tears. Without Richie, she wouldn’t have Oliver, and yet she realized more than ever she needed to let go of the past. Oliver deserved to have stability, and surrounded by people who care.

  Wiping the trail of wetness from her cheeks, she sniffed back another round. It wasn’t fair that Oliver expected disappointed when it came to his father.

  Some men just aren’t meant for forever…

  ****

  Dillon and Deckland were going over paperwork at the kitchen table when Deckland stood up. “I need a break. My eyes are crossing. Want a beer?”

  “No. Alcohol and numbers don’t mix, Deck.”

  “Suit yourself, I’ll risk it.” Deckland went to the fridge, took out a bottle and twisted the top.

  “I see why you need my help. You hate the paperwork,” Dillon said with a smirk.

  “Ain’t that the truth. I’ve never been a bookkeeper,” he said over top of the bottle. “What the hell are we going to do when you get married?”

  That brought Dillon’s head up. “How many of those have you had?” He knew Deckland never drank more than one or two.

  “This is my first. And don’t pretend it won’t happen. You’ll marry before Dante and I do.”

  Dillon dropped his pen and pushed his chair back on two legs, wishing he’d taken the beer now, but once he did he’d fall asleep. He’d slept like crap for the last week. He didn’t have time to sleep—or to dream about beautiful dancers, one in particular.

  “Why do you keep fighting your feelings for Peyton?” Deckland drained his bottle and threw it into the trash.

  “I’m not fighting anything. And why do you always think my life is an open book to you?” He rubbed his tired eyes with the back of his hand.

  “Bettie said you and Peyton had a spat and you haven’t called her.”

  “This is the problem with rumors. The story is screwed. Peyton and I didn’t have a spat, and I’m not calling her because she has enough going on at the moment. Sometimes a person needs alone time so they can figure things out for themselves. Get the hint, brother?” Dillon dropped his chair back to four legs and got up.

  “The last thing you need is alone time. You’re too old to run away when things get too heavy.”

  His brother’s words smacked Dillon in the face. “What the hell are you saying?”

  Deckland shrugged and leaned his elbows on the table. “The truth. Cassie broke up with you, and then you ran off and worked for some rancher when I could have used you here.”

  “Are you going to hold that against me? I get that you’re pissed off.”

  “You bet your ass I am. Family don’t leave family.”

  Dillon sighed and braced his hands on the counter. “If you say so, but only one of us here is a true Brooke.” Once the words slipped out, he knew he’d made a mistake. He heard rustling but not soon enough for him to react. Deckland’s grip was on him in a flash and all Dillon could do was go along with the flow. Deckland pulled him around, his nostrils flared and his lips thinned.

  “Don’t you ever, ever say those words again. Not only are you feeling sorry for yourself but you’re hurting me too. You’re my brother. You belong here with your family. Mom and Dad loved you just as much, if not more, than all of us. “

  “Okay, I hear you.” Dillon brought his hands up in surrender. “I won’t say it again.” Dillon had gotten his ass kicked by Deckland many times in the past, and now Dillon would bet that he could hold his own against the bigger man, or at least give it a good run, but he had too much respect for Deckland. His brother had been there for him when no one else was, and he knew he always would stand by him.

  Deckland removed his fists from Dillon’s shirt and swiped away the wrinkles. “Sorry, brother, but don’t repeat those words.” Deckland turned and started walking away.

  “I haven’t called her because I love her,” Dillon blurted.

  Deckland stopped midstride, then turned and faced Dillon. “What did you say?”

  “I said I love her.” He smoothed his palm across his forehead, hoping to ease the ache.

  “And you’re not fighting for her because—?” Confusion marked Deckland’s face.

  “I’ve never felt anything like this before. Honestly, it scares the hell out of me. Seeing her ex-husband drove home every single emotion I was feeling.” Dillon had picked up the phone a hundred times since he’d last seen Peyton, yet he’d never followed through. Images of her laughing with Richie, having her family together again, had him jumbled. “I don’t know if she wants her ex back, to have her family again.”

  “You haven’t asked her.” Deckland made a good point.

  “Oliver deserves to have his father.” Dillon choked back bitterness. He knew in his heart they both deserved better. Peyton had told him how absent Richie had been over the years. A father would never leave his kid, just as his dad had been there for him, although he could have easily shunned him. A father is made of actions, nurturing, love and discipline—everything John had given his sons. Never once had Dillon suspected that John wasn’t his father, and that’s because never once had his dad showed any difference or clue that a mistake had been made long ago.

  And his father had always loved his mother, even though it wasn’t a perfect romance or relationship.

  His father fought for what he wanted, even with the risk of pain.

  “I’ve got to go, Deckland. I have something I need to do.” He vaguely heard his brother say something as he shut the door behind him.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  PEYTON PUSHED PLAY on the stereo, music filled the space of the studio as seven pre-teens showed off the routine they’d been working on for months. She examined each dance move, watching closely for the progress. Delighted, she clapped her hands. “Very good, ladies.” Pride burst inside of her chest.

  One by one, each girl stopped moving as their expressions changed from surprise to confusion to giggles. Jumbled, Peyton asked, “What’s wrong?”

  Megan, the oldest of the girls, pointed a finger toward the door. Peyton swung around just as the music ended. Her heart skipped a beat and many sensations surged through her body. “Dillon, what are you doing here?” She attempted to keep the bitterness from her tone, knowing she had young listeners.

  “I need to talk to you.” He took a step forward.

  “I’m busy. I’m teaching a class.”

  “Can you take a break?”

  Was he serious? “I’ll be finished in a half hour.”

  “It won’t wait.”

  “It’ll have to.” She darted to the stereo and searched for the next song.

  His heat reached her before he did. His hand on her elbow made her slightly jump. “Please.”

  “Let me get this straight.” She lowered her voice and tossed a look over her shoulder at all of the girls staring. “You haven’t called me in a week and now, because it suits you, you want to speak to me? If you’re not a paying customer then you need to leave the studio. I have work to do.” She hissed. The music started and she turned her back on him. How dare him!

  From the corner of her eye, she saw him reach into his pocket and pull out something. His wallet! “What are you doing?” she murmured between clenched teeth.

  He dug in and pulled out several bills, laying them next to the stereo. “Okay, now I’m a paying customer.”

  Shock numbed her thoughts. It took her a good ten seconds to come to grips. “This won’t work. This is an advanced class for pre-teen girls,” she snapped.

  “I’ll do my best, but I won’t leave here until you and I have talked.” He moved across the floor, taking a place in the front row, which got another round of giggles from the girls. “You don’t care if I join do you?” he asked Chastity who stood on his left. She immediately shook her head, sending curls bobbing about her flushed cheeks. Peyton huffed. Even young girls weren’t immune to his charm.

  “Take it from the top, girls,” Peyton yelled in a trembling voice. They stood staring at each other, not sure how they
should respond. “Start,” she demanded.

  Megan began her routine, followed by another until they all were dancing. Dillon took a step back and followed the front row. He made a very good effort, but the routine ended with the girls bursting into laughter.

  “This is a circus!” Peyton stomped to the stereo and punched stop. Turning on Dillon, she lifted her chin and stiffened her spine. “You!” She pointed her forefinger at him. “Outside in the hall.”

  The group quieted. Peyton heard one of them say, “Uh-oh, you’re in trouble. You’ve made Miss Peyton mad.”

  Once away from peering eyes, she stuck her finger into his chest. “What are you doing? Are you crazy?”

  “I told you I need to speak to you,” he whispered.

  She inhaled deeply and got a healthy dose of musk soap— instantly she was dizzy, in a very good way. She’d dreamt of his touch, his caress, his affection. Yet, her stubborn side reminded her that he’d disappeared and it was unacceptable. “It’ll have to wait.”

  “No it won’t. I’m sorry that I haven’t called. I’ve been a jackass.”

  Crossing her arms, she looked up at him. “Yes, you have. Vanishing when things get tough doesn’t work!”

  “I need you to know that I’m going to fight for you. Your ex is your ex for a reason.”

  Had she heard right? “Why do you want to fight?”

  “To win you,” he said.

  “Before you start looking to punch someone, you should know Richie is gone,” she said.

  His jaw loosened. “He’s gone? And are you okay?”

  “I’m better than okay. How could you think any differently?”

  He shrugged and she swore she heard a seam rip. “Just as you were curious over my feelings for Cassie.”

  He had a point, but it didn’t lessen her anger. “My relationship with Richie ended years ago. But, your relationship with Cassie ended recently. You came back here for her.”

  “You’re wrong. Cassie and I were over long ago. Coming back here wasn’t to get her back, but to keep my brother from making a mistake. Cassie isn’t good for anyone.”