Second Chance Cowboy

by A. J. Pine

  He found her in the extra bedroom, where close to a dozen finished canvases lined the floor against the far wall. He glanced at the one she was working on and winced.

  “That is one hell of an ugly tree,” he said. “You ever think about getting rid of the one out back? It doesn’t look like it’s fruit-bearing…or olive-bearing. Is an olive a fruit?”

  Ava sighed. “I’ve been trying to paint that stupid tree for the better part of a decade. I thought if I could paint it, that it would be the one and only piece of art worthy of admission to Cal Poly. I thought I had to prove something to myself with a stupid tree.”

  “But now you don’t?”

  She shook her head. “I already got in, didn’t I? With the portrait of you and Owen playing catch that I painted before it even happened.”

  “Because you knew,” he said.

  “I hoped,” she admitted.

  She crossed her arms, paintbrush still in hand. She was wearing nothing but an oversized white T-shirt he guessed was her regular uniform when she worked on her art. The paint-splattered garment slid down her left shoulder, exposing her pale, freckled skin.

  Jack kissed it, then smiled as he felt her shiver.

  “You boys have a good time?”

  He nodded. “I didn’t sing, if that’s what you’re asking. We did some bedtime reading instead.”

  “Oh yeah?” she asked. “What book?”

  Jack gave her a wry grin, and she shook her head. “You read baseball stuff, didn’t you? I’m going to be left out of conversations now if I don’t know the Dodgers’ batting order. I’ve basically lost my son to his father and vice versa.”

  She swiped the paintbrush across his cheek, but he grabbed it from her before she got the other.

  He raised his brows. “Tell me about the tree,” he said softly. “Or I retaliate.”

  She shrugged. “I have more brushes.”

  “And I’m not going anywhere. So talk to me, Red.” She reached for the brush, but he was too quick, hiding it behind his back. “I’m not leaving,” he said.

  Without the brush to occupy her fidgeting hands, she wrapped her arms around her midsection and blew out a long breath. “I bought this house because of that ugly tree.”

  His brow furrowed. “Why the hell would you do that?”

  “Because the last time I saw you—when I told you I wasn’t in love with you—” Her voice shook.

  He reached for her, but she held out her hand, staving him off for just a bit more. “I have to say this. And you can forgive me or not for all I’ve kept from you. But in order to move forward from this, I need you not to make it easier for me.”

  It killed him to do it, but he took a step back. For her.

  “That’s where we met,” she continued. “Under that ugly tree across the street from the school. I called you there to tell you about Owen, but instead I pushed you as far away as I could because I knew—after the party and then what happened with Walker—that you wouldn’t survive here if you stayed. So I hurt you more than you were already hurting, and now you’re here, and you gave me this ring, and you want to marry me.” She shrugged. “I’ve been telling you since the moment you got here to face your past, but the truth is, I guess a part of me is still stuck under that tree.”

  He dropped the brush onto the table next to her easel and closed the distance between them. His eyes searched hers for the girl who couldn’t let go. “Tell me now,” he said, his voice gentle. “Tell me now what you wanted to tell me then.”

  He swallowed past the years of separation, and he was eighteen again. Eighteen and lost until she’d found him.

  She glanced out the window toward an innocent tree that had no idea the role it played in her torment.

  “Hey, Red. It’s okay. Pretend we’re there.”

  She rested both of her hands on her flat belly. “I’m pregnant,” she simply said.

  Without hesitation, he covered her hands with his own. “I’m gonna be a father.”

  She nodded. “A really good one. I think it’s a boy.”

  He smiled. “Who’ll love baseball, and Vin Scully, and have an excellent pitching arm.”

  She laughed. “I’d like to name him after your mom.” Her voice caught on that last word, and he watched her struggle to hold it together. For him.

  “That means more to me than you will ever know.” He realized he’d never thanked her for making Owen his, even when he wasn’t here.

  He kissed her then, and as their lips met, he felt her finally let go.

  He scooped her into his arms, her bare legs warm against his hands, and carried her from the room. She narrowed her eyes, and he knew she wanted to give him hell for putting the extra weight on his leg, but he gave her a quiet “Shhh,” warning her that if she said anything now, she’d wake Owen. Besides, he was so quick, she was on her back on top of her unmade bed in a matter of seconds.

  Jack returned to the door to gently close it, and she rose onto her elbows. “You are terrible at following the doctor’s instructions,” she said.

  He shrugged. “Doc didn’t know I was making love to my future wife tonight.”

  She sucked in a breath, and he shook his head. “No more tears.”

  “But these are happy ones.”

  He stood above her and she tugged at the belt loop on his jeans. “Come here,” she said.

  He obeyed, climbing over her, but she shook her head and pushed him to his side so they were facing each other.

  “I get that in the hospital you were hooked up to machines, which didn’t leave you much of a choice. But part of this deal”—she motioned between them—“is that you don’t get to be an island anymore. You put everyone else ahead of your needs. And I love that about you. But you’ve got people to take care of you now, and you better let them do it.”

  He tilted his head toward hers, the warmth of their breaths mingling between them. “Are you one of these people who want to take care of me?”

  She rested her palm on his cheek. “For as long as you’ll let me.”

  He kissed her, long and slow and sweet—at first. But when she parted her lips, his tongue slipped between them and he grew hungry with need.

  “I missed you,” he said as he came up for air.

  Her leg slid between his, and her hand snaked around his back. “I know. A week is too long.”

  He kissed along the line of her jaw, nipped at her earlobe, and smiled when she gasped. “Not just this week.” He rose on his elbow, and with his free hand gripped the hem of her paint-spattered T-shirt and tugged it over her head. He was the one who was short of breath now. Because there she was, in nothing but a pair of black panties—and the diamond he’d placed on her finger. He helped her out of the former as quickly as he had the shirt.

  “I missed you,” he said again, his voice rough, and the look in her green eyes was one of complete understanding.

  She pulled his face to hers. “I know.” She gave him a quick, chaste kiss. “But there’s one thing wrong here.” She looked him up and down.

  “What’s that?”

  She raised her brows. “You’re wearing entirely too many clothes.”

  He barked out a laugh, only to be shushed by the beautiful, naked woman beneath him. He was out of his own shirt in seconds, but the jeans over the cast were another story. Together, though, they made it work, and soon he was bare before the woman he couldn’t get enough of.

  “See?” she said. “That’s how it works. Letting someone take care of you.”

  Without warning, she pushed him down on his back and sank over his erection, burying him to the hilt in her slick heat.

  A low growl rumbled in his chest. He pulsed inside her, eliciting soft, short breaths that let him know that even injured he could still get the job done.

  She squeezed her knees against his hips, tightened her muscles, and slid up and down his length so slowly he thought he might lose his mind.

  “This,” she said, lowering her head to his so sh
e could kiss him. “This is me taking care of you for the next hour or so.”

  He raised his brows. “An hour? You think very highly of a man who hasn’t been inside you for a week.” And who felt like he might lose control in a matter of minutes. But that didn’t worry him anymore—letting go with her. He wanted every part of this woman—body, heart, and soul. And he knew without a doubt she’d given all of that to him. What surprised him now was, after all these years of distancing himself from that kind of connection, it was so easy to give back to her.

  She rocked against him, her movement slow and controlled. “We’ll just have to do it more than once, then. To work up our staying power.”

  He laughed, then wrapped his arms around her so the whole length of her body was flush against his. “I love you,” he said, his hands gripping the backs of her thighs.

  She gasped as he tilted his pelvis toward hers. “I love you, too,” she said.

  “I always thought I couldn’t be happy here—coming back to this place. But you and Owen changed that.”

  She smiled. “You’re really happy?”

  She arched her back, and one of his hands snuck between the place where they joined. She cried out as he pressed a finger against her aching center.

  “I’m happier than I ever thought possible,” he said. Because he never could have dreamed this—a second chance with the only girl he ever could have loved.

  “Promise?” she asked.

  He kissed her, and her body melted against his.

  “Cross my heart, Red. I’m finally home.”

  Lily Green is ready for a fresh start, but she’s hit a few stumbling blocks. One, the first job for her fledgling catering company turns out to be for her ex-husband’s upcoming wedding. And two, she’s stuck working the event with Luke Everett, a man she can’t stand…and who she can’t stop thinking about.

  See the next page for a preview of

  ​Tough Luck Cowboy.

  Lily Green sat in her parked car staring at the envelope on the passenger seat. Once, her husband had sat beside her in said vehicle. Now she sat next to a sheaf of papers acknowledging the dissolution of her marriage. And she had signed and initialed each and every one, read them through again, and then once more before the ride was over.

  “Well,” she said aloud to no one in particular. “There you have it.”

  The F-word. The one that was never supposed to apply to her. The F-word happened to other people who weren’t careful. It happened to those who didn’t try hard enough. It happened to people who couldn’t stand on their own two feet. At least, that’s what she’d always told herself, and that’s what she’d spent her life working to avoid.

  Failure.

  Failed marriage. Failed business partnership. Lily Green, the girl voted most likely to teach life who was boss—because yes, that’s exactly what her senior superlative had said—was twenty-six and had been thoroughly schooled by life instead.

  Scratch that. Twenty-seven. Because of course she was finalizing her divorce on her birthday.

  “Guess there’s nothing left to do but make this official, right?”

  But no one answered. Because she was still talking to herself. In the car. Prolonging the inevitable.

  She grabbed the envelope and stepped out into the crisp November afternoon. The sun still shone bright over the burgeoning California vineyard. The Everett brothers were sure as hell showing life who was boss, and despite the weight on her chest, the thought elicited a smile.

  She fingered the silver wishbone pendant that hung at her neck, the only gift her mom had been able to afford when Lily had graduated culinary school.

  You clawed your way out of the gutter, Lily Beth. Don’t you ever fall back down.

  Sorry, Mom, she thought. Already fell. Just haven’t figured out how to tell you yet.

  She squared her shoulders and held her chin high, striding toward the entrance of the soon-to-be Crossroads Winery tasting room and gift shop.

  “Let’s do this.”

  She pushed through the tall wooden door, ready to get down to business, and stopped short at the scene before her.

  “You need to swirl the wine in the glass like this, letting it breathe.”

  Across from the three blond, rugged Everett brothers stood a beautiful redhead: Ava Ellis, Jack’s fiancée and resident wine expert.

  “Why the hell do crushed, fermented grapes need to breathe,” the youngest of the three men—Walker—asked.

  Ava let out a sigh and narrowed her eyes at her almost brother-in-law.

  “It’s oxygenating, opening up. This softens the taste, lets you truly get a sense of the aroma so you can learn to identify the ingredients.”

  Walker turned to his brothers. “Aroma?” He grunted. “Tell me she’s not going to make us sniff the damn grapes.”

  Lily stifled a laugh. They still hadn’t noticed her enter, and she did not want this performance to end on her account.

  “Pay attention, asshole,” Luke said, but he was grinning.

  “If Ava wants you to sniff the damn grapes, you’re gonna sniff the damn grapes,” Jack added.

  Walker set his glass on the workbench in front of him and crossed his arms. “You fuckers can sniff. I’m waiting until it’s time to drink.”

  Ava just shook her head and laughed, dipping her nose toward the rim of the glass. She breathed in, eyes closed, and sighed with a smile.

  “Earthy, with a hint of black cherry,” she said, then opened her eyes. “What do you think?” she asked Luke and Jack.

  The two men swirled the wine in their glasses, both sloshing it over the rim.

  Ava giggled. Walker shook his head.

  “I just smell—wine,” Luke admitted.

  Jack looked at his fiancée and cleared his throat. “Totally earthy,” he echoed. “And black cherry–ish.”

  She crossed her arms. “You just smell wine. Don’t you?”

  He winced and then nodded. “Just wine. Sorry, Red. But you’re sexy as hell trying to teach our sorry asses how to do this.” He set his glass down and leaned across the workbench to kiss her, and Lily’s heart squeezed tight in her chest.

  She faked a cough, silently berating herself for interrupting the moment, but she could no longer stomach being the outsider looking in. She just wanted to do what needed to be done and get out.

  Everyone’s heads shot up and toward the door.

  “Nail gun,” Walker said, breaking the silence. “I need to, uh, do some manual labor involving a nail gun. That’s why I’m here.” He strode off to a far corner of the space where there was another workbench piled with tools.

  Lily couldn’t help but laugh, but then Luke’s eyes found hers, and she felt suddenly exposed.

  “Hey, Lil,” he said, running a hand through his cropped blond hair. And then the man who was her almost ex’s best friend strode right past her and out the door.

  Her mouth hung open.

  “Thanks for the birthday wishes,” she mumbled. It wasn’t as if the two of them were best friends. Far from it, actually. But he knew. Luke Everett knew what today was, on both accounts. And he’d had the audacity to just saunter on by like it was any other day that ended in y.

  “What was that?” Ava asked.

  Lily shook her head. “Nothing.” Her brow furrowed. “Luke and I were never each other’s biggest fans. He thought I was a controlling shrew, and I thought a married man should come home before dawn when he was out boozing it up with his buddies.”

  Ava gasped. “He called you a ‘controlling shrew’?”

  Lily huffed out a breath. “Well, not exactly in those words. But he has told me to lighten up or relax on several occasions, and I know all together those boil down to ‘controlling shrew.’”

  Did wanting to be organized or have some semblance of a plan make a person controlling? What was wrong with knowing what came next?

  Ava pursed her lips. “Aw, honey. I’m sure he never meant anything by it. I love Luke, but he’s ju
st a big kid, you know? If it’s not a party, he wants no part in it.”

  “Yeah,” Jack added. “Other than ranching—and I will admit he does a damn good job around here—he’s sort of shit with the grown-up stuff. He’d rather be riding a four-legged animal around a rodeo arena than have to truly interact with the rest of the human race.”

  “I’ll let you two get down to business,” Ava said, giving Jack a kiss. “And I’ll leave the wine,” she added, her eyes now on Lily’s. “Just in case.”

  Lily forced a smile. “Thanks. I actually could use a glass. Or three.”

  Ava hugged her. The two had gotten to be friends since she and the son she shared with Jack had moved onto the ranch.

  “Come over for dinner after. If you’re up for it,” Ava said. “The boys are going to watch Luke at the rodeo, but I’m staying home to finish up a paper for my art history class. I wouldn’t mind a small distraction.”

  Lily shook her head. “I’m gonna be crap company tonight. Trust me. But thank you for offering. Plus, Jack might bill me extra hours if I cost you valuable work time.”

  Jack winked. “I hadn’t thought of that, but now that you mention it…”

  Ava poked him square in his broad chest. “You behave, Jack Everett. Lily’s practically family, so I trust you’re giving her a family discount.”

  He just shook his head and laughed, his eyes lingering as he watched his fiancée stride out the door. Then he nodded toward a different door, far in the back of space that would eventually be the new vineyard’s tasting room and gift shop. “Shall we head to my office?” he asked.

  Lily squared her shoulders and blew out a breath. “No time like the present!” Her words were more enthusiastic than she’d intended, but whatever. She followed Jack to what might someday be an office but what certainly was not one today.

  He motioned for her to sit on the futon that was at present in couch position. Other than that and a small desk and chair, the room was empty.

  “Sorry,” he said. “We can head back to the ranch and go to my real office if you want.”