The Rancher's Second Chance

by Victoria James

  He smiled. “I never said your legs were stubby. I just said you were short. Besides, I’ve seen your bare legs, and they aren’t short. They’re long and silky.”

  She looked skyward. “That’s just because I shaved them that morning and I use a really good moisturizer.”

  He was torn between laughing and kissing her. “Mel, I wanted to take you out for dinner. A nice place,” he said, taking a step closer to her. He was close enough that he could smell the now-familiar scent of flowers he remembered from the other night, and close enough to see she wasn’t wearing lipstick, even though her lips were still rosy. Close enough to know he was still too far. He wanted to bend down and kiss her.

  “I think I could really go for a steak.”

  “All right then. How about we go to The Loft for dinner?”

  Melanie smiled. “That’s perfect.”

  Before she could pull away, he grabbed her hand in his and started walking in the direction of one of his favorite restaurants. “I hope we can get a table,” Melanie said as he held open the door for her a few minutes later. The place, as usual, was packed. One of Passion Creek’s most popular restaurants, the cuisine was upscale, fine dining.

  “I think I’ll be able to get us a spot,” he said smiling down at her as they waited for the hostess to greet them. “I supply their beef,” he said, his voice trailing off as he looked down at Melanie.

  He ignored the hostess as Melanie’s face went stark white and she literally backed away from him. “Mel? What is it?”

  She shook her head and looked up at him. “It’s um. I’m actually kind of tired.”

  He placed his hand on her shoulder. “You okay, sweetheart? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

  Her gaze darted from the back of the restaurant to him. “No, I’m fine. It’s just been a really long day and I think it’s finally catching up with me.”

  He nodded, still concerned. “Okay, then why don’t we take it to go?”

  She shot him a small smile, looking inordinately relieved. “I think I’ll just wait outside. I’m feeling a bit warm. I’ll be on the bench out front,” she said softly. He stared at her, as she backed away, toward the door.

  “Go ahead. As soon as I place the order I’ll wait with you outside. Do you have any favorite foods?”

  “Anything,” she said, giving him an obviously forced smile. And then she was out the door. He frowned for a moment, wondering what the hell just happened, wondering if in fact she really was tired, or if she was having second thoughts about him. He hadn’t dated anyone in a decade, but hell, he never remembered it being this complicated.

  He placed his order with the hostess. As he was paying the tab he noticed two familiar-looking men sitting with a young woman. At the far end of the room, close to the window, Phillip Anderson was sitting down with his dinner companions.

  Chapter Eleven

  The quick walk back to her apartment had been mostly silent. Something was so off with her tonight. When he went outside the restaurant to check on her, she’d been sitting on the iron bench trying to put on a brave face. But Melanie looked afraid. Only once they started walking back to her place did she start loosening up again. He’d gotten used to her chitchat, looked forward to it even. He was surprised when they stopped in front of her store on Fifth Street. The old historical building was one he passed every now and then. She pulled open a door beside the store that led to the second floor of the old building.

  Right away he’d been curious, because it didn’t exactly seem like a luxury building. Sure, the old buildings had character and charm, but he’d expected her to be living in one of the new, trendy condominium buildings that had sprung up beside the downtown core. They stopped at the tiny landing at the top of the narrow staircase and she pulled out her keys.

  Melanie flicked on a table lamp once they were inside, and Cole looked around curiously. He tried his best to hide his surprise at the apartment, and the fact that he could see almost all of it from the minute front entrance. He glanced over at Melanie who was busy hanging up her coat in the closet, and he noticed it was only one of two. He frowned slightly. Again, not exactly what he expected. He’d kind of thought she’d have a closet bursting with coats.

  She slipped off her shoes and carefully placed them on a shoe rack filled with only one pair of boots and a few shoes. Not that he was one to notice this type of thing, but it didn’t really seem like a lot for a woman. Even Sarah, whom he’d considered not really into fashion, had at least three times what was in Melanie’s closet. This certainly wasn’t the closet of a socialite. Hell, even he had more shoes.

  He thought back to the night at the cabin, the expression on her face when she said that her parents weren’t helping with the business, that she hadn’t seen them in years. Did that mean they had actually left their daughter high and dry? No financial help at all?

  “Here, I’ll take your coat,” she said, holding out her arm.

  He nodded, shrugging out of the coat. He wanted answers. He wanted her to let him in.

  “Thanks,” he said as she took his coat and hung it in the closet. He noticed she didn’t chuck her purse on the hall table. Instead, she removed her wallet and sunglasses and placed them in a basket right underneath. Then she wiped down her purse with some cloth that was sitting on the shelf and placed it on an upper shelf in the closet. He’d never seen anyone do that before. He quickly busied himself with pretending to take a long time with his boots. Finally, he straightened himself up and followed her into the apartment.

  “Can I get you a glass of wine?” she asked, walking toward a small, galley-style kitchen.

  He gave her a nod and an attempt at a smile. He was trying his damnedest not to look staggered. There was nothing wrong with the place, but for a trust-fund kid with her amount of wealth, the place would be considered a dump. For the average person, it would be a clean, no-frills, starter apartment. There were Melanie touches all around. He could pick them out—the bright cups and saucers she had on display on a yellow shelf in the kitchen. The colorful quilt she had draped on the sofa, the checkered pillows. But there was no luxury.

  She pulled down two wineglasses and opened the bottle, pouring each of them a glass. “I hope you like merlot. I’m fresh out of whiskey,” she said with a little laugh. His mind immediately went back to that night.

  “Yeah, I guess we both need a break from the whiskey for a bit,” he said accepting the glass from her outstretched hand. When his hand touched hers, he wanted nothing more than to pull her into him and kiss her until she forgot whatever was bothering her.

  “Do you want to sit in the other room?” she asked tilting her head in the direction of the room with the couch.

  “Sure,” he said following her.

  She sat on the couch, tucking a leg under her. They opened up the containers of food, spreading them out on the coffee table, the rich aroma of the steaks and grilled vegetables filling the small apartment. He handed her a plate filled with food and then settled back with his own.

  “This looks so good,” she said, licking her lips. His gut twisted. He was relieved, though, that she seemed to be relaxing again. Color had come back to her face and she didn’t look the least bit exhausted. It was time for some answers, and then he wanted to enjoy their evening together. He looked around the apartment for a moment while they ate in silence. It was cozy. Real. Very much like the woman sitting on the sofa beside him. And it dawned on him, as it had many times since last week, how he had misjudged Melanie. There were so many delicious, intriguing layers to this woman. He pointed at the food on her plate. “Just for the record, this is food Tiny Tim could never provide.”

  She laughed. “No, but he makes a mean tempeh burger.”

  He paused, forkful of meat in midair. “I can’t even dignify that with a response. So you, uh, going to tell me what the hell that was all about back there?”

  She placed a piece of the steak into her mouth and then sighed as she chewed. “Hmm. Wha
t do you mean exactly? The exotic dancing?”

  He grinned, taking a sip of wine. “I’m not an idiot.”

  She gave him a half smile. “Right.”

  “Mel, spill it.”

  She darted her eyes away from him for a moment. “I had an unexpected visitor at my studio today.”

  He waited. He took a sip of the wine, and then he waited some more. He wondered what that had to do with Tim and the exotic dancing. He realized she was waiting for him to ask who. “Really, who?”

  “My sister,” she said softly. Cole racked his brain, remembering their conversation at the cabin. She’d told him she had lost touch with her family. Of course he knew that was a load of crap.

  “You haven’t spoken to her in a while, right?”

  She nodded and tucked her hair behind her ear. He fought the urge to reach out and touch it, to reach out and touch her. To pull her into his arms and listen as she curled herself into him and trusted him without whatever secrets she was so scared to tell.

  “It’s been years,” she said and took a deep breath. She placed her fork and knife down on the plate. “I kind of lied when I told you we lost touch. We didn’t. I walked out on them, and they never forgave me. They refused my calls, e-mails, everything. Until tonight. Though, I think I screwed up again.” Her head was bent over her plate, but she wasn’t eating. He was surprised by how harsh she sounded. He had gotten used to the confident woman who was so sure of herself.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure it’s a good sign if she wanted to see you. She reached out to you.”

  She nodded. “But I couldn’t just be happy with that. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut and I offended her. She cut the visit short, said a few harsh words, and then left.”

  “What happened? I’ve known you a long time, and you don’t strike me as the type to be hurtful. I get the talking a lot thing, but other than that…” His voice trailed when his attempt at humor backfired. She looked like she was going to cry. “What did you say to her?”

  She shrugged, making railroad tracks in the mashed potatoes with her fork. “She told me she was getting married and I started asking some questions about him. I was just looking out for her. She accused me of bailing on her and leaving her to deal with the fallout, but I couldn’t accept that, and then we fought about the past. We both see it differently. The worst part is seeing all the sparkle gone from her eyes. I mean, she looked gorgeous, was impeccably dressed, but she’s lost a lot of weight and then she kept looking at her watch, like she was panicked. Like if she didn’t get back in time, she’d be in trouble.”

  Cole didn’t say anything for a moment, trying to piece together everything she was saying and not saying. “Why would she be in trouble? Or panicked?”

  He waited for her to speak, watching as she pushed the mash potatoes into a heaping mountain and then began smoothing them. He clenched his back teeth. This was an exercise in excruciating patience.

  “Because I bet her fiancée is a jerk. Just like our father.”

  His blood turned to ice, and he froze for a moment. Now they were getting somewhere.

  She sighed and leaned back into the cushions. “He can’t be hero material, let’s put it that way. And we dreamed up our heroes. It was a long time ago, but she should have held out.”

  He cleared his throat. He was going to follow along her train of thought if it killed him. “For a hero?”

  She nodded, taking a few sips of wine. “Not that a girl necessarily needs a hero, but she would want to be with someone capable of being a hero.”

  “Right.” He hoped to god she was going to start talking again, because he had no idea what to say to all this.

  “And then the worst thing. The absolute worst was that I asked her if she’s ever given him the test.”

  Cole put his plate down on the coffee table. He was done eating. He’d stick with the alcohol. “The test.”

  Melanie nodded rapidly and stood, resting her plate on the coffee table. “The test. This was something I had thought up…”

  “Naturally.”

  “I gave you the test,” she said with a smirk, standing with her hands on her hips. His eyes wandered down the curvy length of her body. Somewhere between imagining what she was wearing under her sweater and deciding he really liked the curve of her hips it occurred to him that she had, unbeknownst to him, subjected him to some kind of testing.

  He cleared his throat and stared into her sparkling, green eyes. “Excuse me?”

  She was nodding again, looking very smug.

  Had he passed this test? Flunked?

  She gave him a sort of pitying smile, tilting her head to the side. “I know that probably freaks you out.”

  “No it doesn’t,” he said, leaning back against the cushions. “I’ve never failed any test. There’s no way in hell I’d fail some test invented by a teenage girl.”

  “I was very clever, even as a teenager,” she said lifting her chin. He tried not to smile, but it was pretty hard because she was adorable.

  “Are you planning on telling me what this test was?”

  Her cheeks turned pink, and she darted her eyes away from him, looking like she was nervous. He settled himself back into the cushions, laced his fingers together, and put his hands behind his head. This was going to be good.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but he raised his index finger. There was something he needed to know. “Wait. Can you tell me if you gave Tiny Tim the test? And if so, whether or not he passed?”

  She huffed and crossed her arms. “No.”

  He smiled. “He failed, huh?”

  “No, I didn’t give him the test.”

  He frowned. “Why not?”

  She looked up at the ceiling, arms still crossed, but now she was tapping a foot. “Because I knew he would pass. Tim got an automatic A.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Did I uh…?” He ran his hand over his mouth. “Did I pass?”

  She nodded, but it almost looked like she wasn’t pleased he passed. He ignored the feeling of relief that coursed through him. “So what was the test?”

  “It was to measure your reaction.”

  He frowned. “To what?”

  “To me royally pissing you off.”

  “Was this an ongoing test? Like from the day you arrived at the ranch?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “What? No!”

  He nodded. “Oh, so when you refused to get on a horse, or decided to take up exotic dancing, those weren’t part of the test?”

  She was frowning at him again. “No.”

  “Okay. So just the Tiny Tim thing.”

  She nodded. “When Meredith and I were younger we’d dream up the perfect man. Looks, profession, personality. Anyway, we decided that any man worthy of our lo—affection would have to perform and pass one simple test.”

  “So, you taking me to the Happy Cow was your attempt to make me angry.”

  She nodded.

  “And what did you think I was going to do?”

  She shrugged slightly and ducked her head into the wineglass. “I didn’t know.”

  The humor of the situation was rapidly dying and a sick feeling was trickling down his spine. “Why would you have ever thought to come up with a test like that?”

  She clasped her hands together, put down her wineglass, and focused her eyes on the window behind him. “Because of our father,” she said in a cold voice. It wasn’t one he’d heard from her, but he noticed her stiff posture, the way her arms were tightly folded in front of her.

  When she didn’t say anything he probed. “He wasn’t the easy going type?” He hoped to God it was that, that the man was just not approachable. Or stiff.

  She shrugged. “It was a little more than that.”

  He wanted to walk over to her, or pull her onto his lap, anything that would make her feel safe enough to tell him whatever it was she’d been holding back. “Like what, sweetheart?”

  Tears flooded her eyes the second he said sweetheart, a
nd he knew all of this, Melanie, meant a hell of a lot more to him than he ever would have thought, because his body ached at the sight of her tears. He ached with the need to make everything right for her. “You can tell me anything.”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment and then took a deep breath. “He was always someone we feared. You learn at a young age who the safe people are. He wasn’t one of them. When he was upset about even the slightest thing he would go into this tyrannical rage. He had everyone in the house so tightly wound that even the possibility of being one minute late would send my mother in full-on panic mode. He was obsessed with keeping up appearances. Everything he did was some obsessive attempt to be the best. He controlled everything. There were no hugs; kisses were a formality. We were cast aside, really. We were probably the only kids at that boarding school who were ecstatic to be away from home.”

  She turned to smile at him, a feeble attempt at making it look like this story wasn’t as god-awful as it sounded. He remembered her coming over to spend the weekend with Cori. She always seemed so at peace at their house, following Mrs. Harris around the kitchen. No wonder.

  “Anyway, there was this really important invitation my family had. It was to spend the weekend at some resort with a few other families. The host was the owner of some huge corporate restaurant chain and my father really needed to impress them. He would hound us about everything. If we were up to date on current events, pop culture, how to respond to certain questions, how to greet people, if we knew the whose-who. The list went on and on. Sounds crazy, right?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and shot him a sad smile.

  “It sounds horrible,” he said, his voice rough. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and make them both feel better. He had no idea her family had been like this. “So what happened at the resort?”

  She looked away and stared at the window, but when she turned back to him, something changed in her expression. “It wasn’t that bad. You know, I don’t want to spend the night talking about my dysfunctional family. You got us this great takeout; why don’t we just enjoy it?”