Second Chances

by Leigh Morgan

  Rhia flipped on the hazard lights, slammed the car door, and rounded on the sheep, hands on her hips. She bent over so she could look her nemesis in the eye, while she informed the stupid animal of the merits of not becoming road kill.

  “It would be a total waste buddy. I don’t like mutton. The first time I field dressed a deer I got sick. I’d just leave you here to be run over by all this traffic.” The sheep bleated at her. “Okay, so I’m the only vehicle on this deserted road. But, I swear, I will run you over if you don’t move. Not a very dignified way to go little lamb.” Rhia stomped her foot trying to look and sound intimidating. “Now get the hell off the road.” The sheep bleated again, this time batting its large golden eyes at her. If it had been behind a fence Rhia may have thought the sheep was pretty, until it smiled at her.

  She was being laughed at by a sheep. Worse than that was the fact that so far today, the damn animal had been the only living thing she’d understood.

  “You think this is funny? I’m lost. I can’t move forward or back. I’m driving a stick shift, on the wrong side of the road for Pete’s sake...And you think this is funny?” Rhia hissed.

  “Yeah. Pretty damn funny actually. Don’t stop on my account. I’m enjoying the view.” A deep, obviously masculine voice replied from behind her.

  Rhia stood up so quickly she made herself dizzy. She’d been bent over, talking to a sheep, giving this man an ‘in your face view’ of her less than lithe bottom. She hadn’t seen another vehicle on this road for miles. She hadn’t heard him approach either. No, she’d been too engrossed giving the laughing sheep hell to notice.

  Oh God, how long had he been there? It didn’t bear contemplation. Her mother always told her the best defense was a good offense, so Rhia steeled her back bone and plastered her best professorial look on her face before turning to face him.

  He was leaning against a British Racing Green Jaguar XFR, his arms and feet crossed in front of him. He had what she’d learned to recognize in high school as a ‘shit eating grin’ gracing his aggressively masculine features. The man would never be pretty, but he could do Armani ads. Nah, Rhia thought, too broad shouldered for Armani. He’d look better bare chested advertizing Jockey shorts, or maybe he could do Diet Coke commercials. Oh yea, Diet Coke he could definitely do.

  Rhia felt her face flame. She’d been sizing him up and he’d caught her at it. She really did need to get out more, Rhia thought trying to will the blush out of her cheeks.

  “I almost hit this stubborn animal.” Rhia shrugged, looking away from his knowing gaze. Damn. How did she get in this ridiculous position? No matter what she said, she’d sound and look stupid. Not the best way to attract a man, but then what did she know, she hadn’t set out to attract any in years.

  “He refused to move so I tried to shoo him away. As you can see, that didn’t work. He just won’t get out of the road.”

  Rhia looked at the man, avoiding his eyes. He quirked a brow and shook his head, that damn grin still firmly in place. He didn’t say a word, just stood there all grins and giggles.

  It was almost as if he expected her to recognize him. He had that same expectant look on his face as one of her students that she’d run into in the community and wasn’t able to place. She’d know she was supposed to recognize them but, they always got that disappointed look on their faces when she didn’t know who they were. This man didn’t look disappointed, in fact he looked pleased.

  Rhia shook her head. She didn’t recognize him and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why she should, she was in a foreign country and he was too old to have been one of her students. If she had met him before, she would have remembered. Hell, she would have carried him in her dreams, she thought. Until he laughed out loud at her. Just like that damn sheep. Men, she thought, gritting her teeth, unreasonably irritated by his humor at her expense. Usually she was a better sport, but something about this man set her teeth on edge.

  Rhia put her hands on her hips. “I would have hit him, but I don’t eat mutton.”

  “I know I’m going to regret this, but I can’t help asking. What makes you think that animal is male?”

  “A female would have had more sense.” She said knowing she sounded tired and bitchy. It had to be the jet lag talking.

  “Really?” He made a show of looking around. “I don’t see any men talking to sheep in the middle of the road?” He said, his rough voice clearly amused.

  Rhia ignored him and turned back to the bleating animal. “Will you please move?”

  Gravel crunched behind her and she felt the soft brush of hard male against her shoulder as he moved past. His scent hit her a second later, pine, ivory soap and pure male. It wasn’t very strong and yet she noticed. What the hell was wrong with her? She shouldn’t have bought those books for the plane. She had sex on the brain, that was it. She would have had that reaction to any clean, sexy, obnoxiously amused male, Rhia thought.

  She watched as he scooped up the animal, and delivered it safely off the road in a matter of seconds. He was dusting off his hands, his golden hair flapping in the breeze as he approached her, stopping way too close. Close enough to touch, to taste, to... Rhia shook herself and met his knowing gaze.

  “Now that’s how a male deals with a situation. A female would probably talk that poor creature to death, and still have to move it off the road.” He was inches from her, close enough that she could see his front teeth overlapped slightly. She had to tip her head back to see the mirth dancing in his eyes.

  “By the way, the males have a large ball sack. That,” he said nodding toward the grazing sheep now safely half way up the hill, “is a ewe.” He moved around the side of her rental car and shut off her hazard lights. “Just another stubborn female.”

  “You’re a sexist jerk. You know that?” Ordinarily Rhia was more polite but she was irritated, lost and turned on by a total stranger. All in all, a unique experience for her.

  His eyes danced as he looked down at her. She clearly hadn’t offended him, although she’d tried.

  “I’m not sexist. I love women. You’re the one who brought sex into it. I was just pointing out the obvious gender differences.” He leaned against her rental car and opened the driver’s door for her, giving her just enough room to get into the driver’s seat.

  Rhia had to brush against him to get into the car. She didn’t care, she just wanted to get away. She had brought sex into it and lord she wished she’d just kept her damn mouth shut. Her eyes too. She was too old to be having this over-the-top reaction to this man.

  Maybe she wasn’t ready for the alpha male dating experience she kept reading about. Maybe it was time to date a pharmacist, or a mailman. Too bad her mailman was a woman, she really wasn’t quite ready for that experience.

  Rhia cringed inwardly as Mr. Jaguar-Stud-Muffin leaned into her open window, a strand of his shoulder length golden hair caressing her cheek as he moved, it was soft and vanilla scented. She loved vanilla. Damn, she thought, I’ve got to get out of here.

  Rhia’s hand shook slightly as she turned the ignition. She tried to ignore him but his low whistle and deep chuckle got her attention.

  She couldn’t help it, she looked into his eyes. They were deep green, filled with something she couldn’t name, and so close they took her breath away.

  This time when he smiled he did it slowly. And what a smile it was. It transformed his features into a face she wanted to cradle in her hands as she brought her mouth to his. A spark passed between them and then he was grinning again, all cocky male. Rhia wanted to hit him.

  “If it weren’t for your penchant to hold conversations with animals in the middle of the road, I’d say you’re my kinda woman.” Saluting her, he walked with lazy ease to his Jag. He turned before getting in and gave her another killer smile. “See ya around, Rí.”

  Rhia watched him spray gravel like a testosterone pumped teenager. Only after he was gone did she register the fact that he was American or maybe Canadian. Either
way, he was the only human she’d clearly understood without straining since she crossed the border into Wales. He’d also just used the nickname her long dead grandmother gave her as a child.

  And she let him get away.

  His last comment about being his kind of woman made no sense to her, until she looked down. Clearly visible to all who cared to look were the spilled contents of her carry on: a box of extra large condoms, ribbed for her pleasure, prominently displayed right next to an illustrated copy of the Kama Sutra she’d purchased at Barnes and Nobel on a whim, and a butterfly vibrator she purchased from Amazon after too much wine the evening her divorce was finalized, still in its thick plastic box. Unfortunately, the book was open to a particularly interesting position she’d dog-eared. Right next to that lay her well thumbed, neon tabbed, copy of A Woman’s Guide to Down and Dirty Sex After Forty.

  “Ah hell.” Rhia said out loud, hitting her head against the steering wheel. “At least I’ll never have to see him again.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Ram took a sip of his Guinness as he watched Rí make her way to the bar. She didn’t seem to recognize him during their sheep encounter, which was probably why he’d enjoyed it so much.

  Wales was his sanctuary. Ram came here whenever he needed to disappear for a while and pretend he was just like everyone else. His mother and his aunt were born here in Pontrhydyfen, although that bit of his personal history was a well guarded secret. Ponty was one of the few places on earth where he felt comfortable just being himself. More than once over the past decade it had been the place he ran to when he needed to sooth his battered soul and become human again.

  Pontrhydyfen, affectionately known as Ponty by all who lived there, was protected by mountains on both sides. A winding stream helped define the parameters of the village and an ancient Roman aqueduct, black and grey with age and a century of fossil fuel burning, added to Shangri-La-esque quality of life here. The mountain view, the sound of the water passing through on its way down, the crispness of the air even in June, all contributed to the peacefulness that hung over Ponty like an airy cloud in a bright summer sky.

  Ponty was a magical place for Ram. It was also his home. More so than any of the houses he had scattered over the globe. Ponty was where he retreated when he needed to lick his wounds or when he needed to remember that the world didn’t really revolve around him.

  The villagers all knew about his fame, they just didn’t give a shit. Here he was just Ram, for better and sometimes for worse. Over the years he’d shown the town’s people both sides of his nature and they accepted him anyway. By rights they should have sold him out when he’d first arrived drunken and obnoxious fifteen years ago.

  But that wasn’t the way with the villagers of Ponty. Everyone knew everyone else’s business, the good, the bad and the truly ugly. Yet, no one would say anything negative to an outsider. The Welsh were a strangely loyal bunch, and Ram loved them for it. He’d repaid that loyalty when he could.

  He’d rebuilt The Miner’s Arms, the one tavern in town that doubled as the rugby club, when it burned down eight years ago. Ram employed all Welsh craftsmen, paid them well, and let them choose the materials. When it was completed, the new Miner’s Arms was the most beautifully crafted public house in Wales. The hand carved mahogany bar alone had taken over a year to complete. The hand etched glass on the wall behind it was equally magnificent.

  Most of the craftsmen who worked on The Miner’s Arms were local and got the opportunity to appreciate their handiwork every evening when they ventured up for a pint.

  It wasn’t quite evening yet, more late afternoon, but the pub was already filled. Evidently word had gotten out that ‘he’ was home. No one was invading his space, but anytime he came home, the village seemed to come out in mass to welcome him back and to get a free pint.

  Rí came through the door and conversation stilled for a moment. Not many strangers came to Ponty. When they did, the entire village took note. Ram could tell from the smile she had plastered on her pixie face that she hadn’t seen him yet. She didn’t even look around, she just headed directly for Gareth, the bartender. Earlier Ram hadn’t noticed how pretty Rí was. She looked tired, no doubt about that, but when she wasn’t scowling she was attractive, sexy even, with her tossled golden curls.

  Rí made her way through the mostly male crowd without ever noticing the way the men looked at her. Ram put down his pint harder than he intended, spilling some of his Guinness.

  Was she following him? Probably not. She hadn’t seemed deceptive earlier, just irritated. She didn’t smell like a reporter and she wasn’t groupie material. Too old. Too straight laced. Too classy. The woman probably wore pearls.

  So why was she here? West Glamorgan, South Wales, just wasn’t the destination hot spot for most Americans. And why was she alone? Maybe she was meeting someone. But then again, Ram thought, she was an odd piece of work, maybe she was alone. That thought cheered him immensely.

  When they met earlier, he’d deliberately waited for her to recognize him. Everyone did, why should she be any different? But she was different. Rí hadn’t recognized him and that alone made her immanently more attractive than any female he’d met in years. He was sick to death of plastic and silicone women. He wanted something, someone real. Rí was real all right and she was lost. A situation he had every intention of exploiting.

  Ram watched as she slapped a piece of paper down on the bar, in front of Gareth. She already had Gareth’s attention, she didn’t need to ask, but apparently that little fact flew right over her curly-topped head.

  Ram knew by the smile on Gareth’s face that he’d noticed Rí’s appearance the second she walked through the door. So had every other functioning male in the pub. No wonder, Ram mused, even across the room Rí’s subtle sensuality called to him.

  Ram had taken down Rí’s license plate number after their encounter earlier. He had every intention of tracking her down as soon as Stark checked her out. But she was here now and he didn’t feel like waiting for Stark. Ram knew enough about women to know when he was being scammed, Rí just wasn’t mercenary enough to scam him.

  Ram was sorry now he hadn’t gotten her real name earlier. He was going to have call her ‘Rí’ until she coughed up that piece of information. Ram looked at his watch, it was just after four. He made a bet with himself that he’d know her name before five. If he was lucky he’d know her bra size by ten.

  Ram watched as Rí fished a small map from her purse. She ignored everyone and everything around her except Gareth as she pointed forcefully to the map, scribbling wildly and nodding her head as Gareth leaned closer than necessary to give her directions. Ram was going to have a talk with Gareth about hovering. It wasn’t hard to discern that she was lost. Good. At least now he would know where she was headed. Gareth would dish the dirt if Ram asked.

  Ram let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and motioned Molly, Gareth’s sister and part-time bartender, over. “Hey Moll, see the goldilocks your brother’s talking to?”

  “She’s a little old for you, Ramsey Macleod, isn’t she?” Molly said, batting her lashes at him.

  Ram shot her his trademark bad-boy grin. “Anywhere between nineteen and ninety is fair game Moll, you know that. I’ve got a reputation to maintain after all. Besides she’s not that much older than I am.”

  Molly raised a brow over her black sparkling eyes. Ram loved Molly, but then so did everyone in town. She was in love with her playwright husband and had never fallen for Ram’s dubious charm before she was married, which was a good thing for both of them, Ram thought.

  “I haven’t seen you with anyone over twenty-two in ten years. She may not be that much older than you, but she looks bloody well smarter than the beauty school drop-outs you usually have on your arm in the trash papers and on the telly.”

  Ram put his hand to his heart. “I’m wounded. And you know damn well Gabrielle spoke French. She also had a bachelor’s degree from Stanford. Gabby was no b
eauty school drop-out.” Ram had dated the super model longer than most women, about two months. Molly and Gareth still teased him about it.

  “Too bad she majored in fellatio. Isn’t that how she got the head one of those movie companies to marry her?”

  Ram laughed. Molly was right. That was how Gabrielle landed her husband, and kept him for a record five years so far. “Just send her a beer would you? Make it a black and tan.”

  “You sure know the way to a woman’s heart, Ramsey, me lad.”

  “It’s not her heart I’m after.” Even as Ram said the words he wondered if they were true.

  ...

  She was good and lost.

  After her encounter with Mr. Jaguar-stud-muffin, she’d been so worked up she’d missed the turn off to her rental and landed in this small town, and there wasn’t a gas station in sight.

  It had taken Rhia about two minutes to wind her way through the town’s one street and back again. The only building that looked public and open was nestled into the hill with only a thin drive leading from the road. She’d taken it, on the off chance someone could actually tell her how to get where she was going.

  The bartender, a Daniel Craig look alike, was friendly enough, but he kept calling her ‘Dear’ in a way that was disconcerting. It may have been her imagination but she felt like everyone in the place was listening to her every word and knew her plight. No one was looking at her so that couldn’t possible be true, but she felt it.

  The bartender, ‘call me Gareth’, knew where she was headed. He stiffened when Rhia handed him the address and his gaze flew to someone at the back of the bar. When Gareth looked at her again his gaze was almost accusatory. He gave her the directions she was looking for, and didn’t utter one more ‘Dear’. He was almost rude, but Rhia was past caring once she found out she was less than a mile away. Her relief was almost palpable. She was seriously contemplating walking to her rental home when a drink landed in front of her.