Second Chance Cowboy

by A. J. Pine

  She nodded. “Maybe it is. Wouldn’t hurt you to, you know, deal with your demons and all that.”

  He let out a bitter laugh. “I did for that whole first year of college. Stipulation of my non-arrest and all.” But it seemed nothing had been enough to prepare him for coming home. “Anyway, I thought that’s what I was doing coming back here—dealing with my demons. You know I’m gonna take care of them, right? He’s my son. My responsibility. I don’t take that lightly.”

  She sighed. “From across the country. Is that why you haven’t told him yet? That boy deserves the truth, you know.”

  She was right. He knew that. But he also knew that some people weren’t cut out to be fathers, and he’d always put himself in that category. A couple of good interactions with his son didn’t mean he knew what the hell he was doing—didn’t mean he’d be any different than the man who raised him.

  “What do we actually tell him? Hey, kid. I’m your dad. Nice to meet you, but I gotta run. It’s what I do. Or I once beat a kid unconscious for trying to hurt your mom. Hope I don’t do the same to you.”

  Jenna’s features softened. She never could hold on to anger for too long. “Oh, sweetie. When are you going to let yourself off the hook for something that happened when you were a troubled kid?”

  He let out a long breath, grasping at the one thing in his life that made sense—the one thing he could control. “New York is what I’ve worked toward ever since I left. It’s my career.”

  She stepped forward and tapped him on the chest. “A career I haven’t heard you mention once other than to tell me you’re moving to the other side of the country.” She laughed. “Small-town ranch boy like you? You’ll hate that noisy city.”

  “I haven’t been a small-town ranch boy for a decade,” he said even as he sucked in a deep breath of Oak Bluff’s crisp open air.

  She patted him condescendingly on the cheek, a gesture that only Jenna could make endearing. “Aw, honey. I’ve lived in Los Olivos longer than I ever lived in Texas, but you will never hear me say ‘I ain’t been a Texan in however many years.’ You can take the boy off the small-town ranch…”

  He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You want a ride to the vineyard or not?”

  Her shoulders relaxed, and he knew the anger was completely gone. “Before the subject is officially changed, can I say one more thing?”

  He laughed. “Could I stop you if I said no?”

  She shook her head. “Make things right with Ava.”

  He led her to the passenger side of his truck and unlocked the door.

  He’d fucked up. He knew that. He had let his demons get in the way of thinking about what he said before he said it, and he’d gone and diminished her whole goddamn life’s work to a quick weekend read.

  Shit. How had the morning started off so well and then gone to complete and utter hell?

  Oh. Right. He’d been a first-rate asshole.

  “I will” was all he said, and that seemed to be enough because Jenna climbed into the truck without another word.

  In a few minutes they were at the vineyard. Walker and Luke must have ridden to the far end to do the pruning there because neither they nor their horses were anywhere to be found. Jack caught sight of Owen tossing a ball and Scully fetching it, so he knew Ava wouldn’t be far off.

  “Hang with Owen for a minute?” he asked when they both were out of the truck.

  Jenna smiled. “Of course.”

  Jack found Ava in the middle of a row, hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun and pruning shears in her gloved hand. She was hacking away at a branch like it was being punished. He felt bad for the poor vine since he knew it was a substitute for him.

  “Hey,” he said when he was close enough for her to hear.

  She looked up, shears pointed up and open, like she was poised to snip off one of his limbs.

  He reached for them. “Maybe put those down for a second,” he said in what he hoped was a calming tone.

  She narrowed her eyes but relinquished her grip on the tool he didn’t want to see turned into a weapon. Jack dropped it to the ground.

  “What you have been doing here this past week is amazing. And generous.”

  Ava shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

  A small laugh escaped his lips. He couldn’t help it. She was the only one who brought it out of him, and he wished he could think of the right words to let her know that.

  “And I don’t deserve the help you’ve been giving me.”

  She crossed her arms. “No. You don’t.”

  He took a step closer to her, and she didn’t retreat—or make a quick grab for the shears to cut his balls off—so he took that as encouragement. “And I was an asshole back at the ranch. I didn’t mean to demean what you do.”

  Her eyes softened, but her expression was still pained.

  “Do you think that, though?” she asked, all her anger draining so that the only thing he could hear now was the hurt. “That what I’ve done with my life doesn’t have the same meaning as what you’ve done with yours?”

  His eyes widened. “Jesus, Ava. No. Hearing all that shit about how happy my parents were, though?” He shook his head. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t exactly deal well with the unexpected.”

  That elicited a bitter laugh from her. “I suppose you’ve had quite a lot of that thrown at you in less than two weeks. That stuff Jenna said got to you, huh?”

  “Yes,” he admitted.

  “But you don’t want to talk about it,” she added.

  “Not right now.”

  “I told you I’m not gonna push you, Jack. But I’m also not gonna cut you slack for how you process your repressed emotions, especially if I get caught in the cross fire.”

  He raised a hesitant hand toward her cheek, and when she gripped his wrist and brought his palm the rest of the way to her skin, he let out a shaky exhale. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I don’t deserve you.”

  She kissed his palm, then gave him a pointed look. Hell. What had he done now?

  “You deserve so much more than you let yourself believe,” she said. “But I can’t make you see that, Jack. You have to see it for yourself.”

  Did he deserve another chance with her? Or a chance to prove the father he’d be for Owen was nothing like his own had turned out to be?

  She kissed him, and he heard her breath shudder as she did.

  She may have hurt him, but he understood why: Her reasons were born out of love. His had come from self-preservation.

  The truth was, it was she who deserved everything, and he had no clue if he could be the one to give it to her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  After working on the vineyard for the better part of the day, Ava thought she’d relax while Luke and Walker gave Owen a riding lesson. She thought wrong. Instead she watched, heart in her throat, because her son, who she thought was getting so big, was dwarfed atop a giant horse. Walker rode a horse named Bella, one who was only five years old, next to Owen on Cleo, who had belonged to Jack when he was a young teen. Not that he’d ever mentioned her when they’d dated in high school or that she was big enough to eat her son.

  Horses didn’t eat people, though, right?

  Luke kept a steady pace on the ground next to Owen, but he was no longer holding the reins or guiding the mare. Her boy was on his own, and damn if he didn’t look good on a horse, like she assumed his father did.

  Owen grabbed his Dodger cap by the bill and twirled it in the air like a lasso. “Woohoo! I’m ready to drive some cattle!”

  But as soon as the words left his mouth, he lost his balance.

  It felt like everything happened in slow motion, but it was over in a blink. Ava burst through the gate, not even thinking about spooking the horses. Her only thought was getting to her son. By the time she did, she couldn’t remember how she got from point A to point B—and then there was Owen, upright on the horse again, Luke steadying him back into the saddle.

  “Mom
!” he cried, a grin spreading from ear to ear. “Did you see that? I almost totally wiped out, and then Luke caught me! And Cleo even stopped, like she knew something was up, and it…was…awesome!”

  Ava started laughing hysterically as tears sprang from her eyes at the same time. Maybe she wasn’t laughing at all, but then again, what did it really matter? Owen was okay. That was the only thing that mattered. Ever.

  Walker spun around on Bella and trotted back in their direction while Luke rested a hand on Ava’s shoulder.

  “I live and breathe this shit, Red,” he said. “As long as I’m around when he’s on the horse, your boy is in good hands.”

  Ava had to catch her breath and collect herself before she could respond. By the time she was ready to speak, she knew Luke was right. This was Owen’s family, and in the short time they’d known him, they already had his back. And something made her trust that for as long as Owen was in their lives, they would.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I just—I don’t want you to think—it was a knee-jerk reaction, you know?”

  Walker and Luke both nodded. “You were protecting your young,” Luke said. “No worries. As long as you know now that he’s safe on the horse. Safer than any other Shortstop I know.”

  Owen groaned and rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. He enjoyed the constant ribbing from his uncle, and Ava enjoyed watching it. It was like they really were a family or something. As quickly as the thought made her smile, though, it filled her with guilt.

  They had to tell him. She kept rationalizing that she had to know exactly what role Jack would play in Owen’s life before telling her son who his father really was. But each second they kept the truth from him was a betrayal of the person she loved most. The ball wasn’t only in Jack’s court. It had to be in hers, too.

  “Jack back yet?” Walker asked, as if he could read her thoughts.

  She glanced back to the driveway that was missing his beat-up truck. “Nope.”

  “He’s a man of mystery, huh?” Luke asked.

  “More like a closed-off asshole,” Walker added, but Ava caught the hint of a smile on his usually sullen face.

  “You say ‘asshole’ a lot,” Owen said.

  Ava opened her mouth to protest, but then she thought better of it. If adding a few new words to Owen’s vocabulary was the price for getting to know the Everetts, so be it.

  “He’s right, you know,” she said with a grin.

  Luke tipped his head back and laughed. “Can’t argue with the truth.”

  For a second Walker’s jaw tightened, but then his shoulders relaxed. “Well, asshole,” he said to Luke, “when you’re right, you’re right.”

  All four of them laughed now, and Ava forgot the man of mystery for a few minutes.

  The day’s work had gone as planned, right down to learning, thankfully, that the cover crop was doing its job. They wouldn’t have to replant, only till—which was still a big job—but it could have been worse.

  But Jack had been gone for over an hour now at a meeting in the neighboring city of Pismo Beach. Jenna had already left, and neither Luke nor Walker knew anything about the meeting, either. Jack hadn’t bothered to fill anyone in. All they knew was that Jack Senior’s lawyer had called and asked to see Jack in person, and he had dropped everything to do it.

  The unmistakable sound of tires on gravel broke the laughter and Ava’s train of thought.

  “Mom!” Owen called as she watched Jack’s truck roll up the driveway. “Can I ride for a little longer? I promise I’ll be careful.”

  She turned to him, brows raised. “And what about walking your dog?”

  Scully, wiped from the day’s work, which had included racing Owen up and down the rows of vines, had been passed out on the living room floor when they’d left the house. Ava didn’t actually mind walking the dog. She also didn’t want to be the mom who said no because, despite knowing Luke and Walker were there, she still worried. It was a prerequisite of mothering, one that seemed to last far beyond the preschool and toddler years.

  He looked at her with pleading eyes, so in love with being on that horse. “Ten more minutes? Pleeeaase? Then I’ll walk Scully, and I’ll even shower without complaining.”

  She laughed at this, and Luke stared toward the house.

  “Go on. I said he was safe, and I don’t go around saying shit I don’t mean.”

  Her frantic heartbeat finally slowed. “Twenty minutes,” she countered, and Owen’s face lit up.

  “Thank you!” he cried. “Thank you! Thank you!” He wobbled a bit in his excitement but immediately righted himself. Ava still gasped—and then laughed.

  He would be fine. And she? Well, she’d still worry, but then she always would.

  Jack was in the kitchen when she made it back to the house. He sat at the table staring at a business-sized envelope as if he was waiting for it to speak.

  “I bet Carnac the Magnificent could tell you what’s in there,” she said.

  His head jerked up, and for a second she thought he might not recognize her.

  “What?” he asked, his voice strained.

  “Johnny Carson?” she said. “Carnac the Magnificent? It was a bit on his show. My dad has all thirty years on DVD. When Johnny retired, he started over again from the beginning, and when I was old enough to watch with him, I did. It was kind of our thing.”

  Jack let out a bitter laugh. “Apparently my dad’s thing is to still keep some sort of twisted hold on me even after he’s gone.”

  Ava worried her upper lip. “You mean the vineyard?”

  The line of his jaw flexed and released. “I mean this.” He slid the envelope across the table, and Ava moved closer so she could read the words scrawled across it in a jagged script.

  For Jackson Everett Junior

  To be read in the event of my death.

  “Even when his words were slurred or barely legible, he still managed to get the last one.”

  She pulled out the chair across from him and sat, resting her palm on top of his.

  “So that’s why his lawyer called you? To give you the letter?”

  Jack nodded. “He had a few other things to go over, but he wanted to apologize and give me the letter in person. It got lost in a pile of paperwork. He said my father gave it to him days before he passed, like he knew he was at the end. I always thought he was too sauced to even know he was sick.”

  Ava rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. “You’re gonna read it, right?” she asked and felt the veins in his hand tense as he curled it into a fist.

  “No,” he said flatly. He stood, folded it in half and shoved it in his back pocket. “How’s Owen doing with the two knuckleheads?”

  He smiled, but she could tell it was forced. She could also tell that the discussion about the letter was over.

  For now, she thought.

  She slid out of her chair and rose to meet his gaze. “Well, I had a heart attack when he almost fell off of Cleo, but Luke caught him, and Walker was right next to him on Bella.”

  “Christ,” he hissed. “You can tell Luke and Walker to lay off the riding. I didn’t invite you here to put your son in danger.”

  Her breath hitched.

  Your son.

  He must have realized what he’d said because his eyes widened.

  “Jesus, Ava. No. That’s not what I meant.” He rounded the table so he was in front of her, cupping her face in his hands. “Calling him mine?” he said. “That’s a privilege I haven’t earned yet.”

  She got that. Hell, she knew ten years ago he hadn’t wanted such a privilege. Yet here they were, staying in his home with him. He wanted—something. Didn’t he?

  “Your terms still,” he said, a tentative grin taking over his features. “As far as what happens between you and me while you’re here.”

  If she kissed him now, the subject would be effectively changed. No letter. No talk of them as an “us” instead of a her, a him, and an Owen. But Owen deserved better.


  “We’re lying to him, Jack. He’s out there having the time of his life with his uncles, and I feel like we’re playing some huge joke on him. He’s a good kid.”

  “I know,” he said softly.

  She shook her head. “No. He’s a great kid. The best, and he deserves the truth. I told myself I wasn’t going to give you an ultimatum, but for Owen’s sake I have to.” He kept talking so much about doing right by her and Owen that she hadn’t realized, until today, that they’d missed the mark.

  “You’re right,” he said, his gaze fixed on hers.

  Only in his eyes, that storm of blue, could she see his warring emotions—what she guessed was hesitation and fear mixed with his insistence on always doing what was best for everyone else.

  “I thought I could wait,” she said. “I thought I could let you deal with your dad’s death and figure out this vineyard thing, but you’re leaving. I can’t let the month go by only for us to tell him right before you hop on a plane.” Owen deserved time with his father knowing who his father was.

  “Everything this week is your call,” he said.

  “Okay, then. It should be just the three of us, right?” Not that she had a clue. There was no protocol for something like this, but she figured it should happen without the whole Everett/Ellis entourage. “He has a baseball game Saturday morning. His first of the season. Come to the game, and we’ll take him out for lunch after. We’ll tell him and take it from there, and whatever happens, the two of you will have at least another week before—”

  She didn’t want to say what came next, but Jack was good at filling in the blanks.

  “Before I move to New York.”

  She forced a smile, but it felt like her chest was caving in.

  They stood there in that heavy silence for several long seconds, the lack of words passing between them saying more than if they’d stated the obvious. Whatever this was with him and her could only ever be temporary unless he gave up his job.

  But it was more than a job. It was his career. And it wasn’t like he was asking her and Owen to drop everything and come with him to New York. She couldn’t, even if he did. She wouldn’t. Her life—her future—was here. So was Owen’s.