Second Dance Cowboy (Second Chance) Read online

  Second Dance Cowboy

  All rights reserved

  Second Dance Cowboy

  Copyright Rhonda Lee Carver 2014

  Cover design by Jackson Jackson

  Electronic book publication April 2014

  Second Dance Cowboy

  By Rhonda Lee Carver

  Book 4, Second Chance Series

  Shit! This was a storm of all storms.

  Dillon Brooke sat in his truck listening to the rain pounding his windshield. Lightening lit the sky, making the droplets of water look like fireworks. After an hour parked in the lot, the downpour wasn’t letting up and his patience grew thinner.

  He clicked the wipers on high but he could barely see the black blob of a brick building across the street. The neon sign above the door flashed a red blur. He didn’t need to see it to know what it read. Starkey’s. The country tavern had once been a popular hangout, but times changed. Most people drove into San Antonio to attend clubs. The last time he’d been in Starkey’s he’d come with his brothers to drink off a long day at the ranch.

  Dillon wasn’t here tonight to relax.

  He’d walked away from this town a few years ago and he guessed his roots called him home.

  He smoothed his hand over his hair and blew out a breath through his tight lips.

  Hell, he knew exactly why he was here.

  The knife slid deeper into his back each time his older brother’s text message came to mind.

  “Dillon, thought you’d like to know that Dante has asked Cassie to marry him.”

  Dillon’s blood boiled, even after the two-hour drive from Shelby.

  Dante, his middle brother, never ceased to amaze Dillon with his irrational actions and careless attitude. Born of the same mother and father, Bessie and John Brooke, genetics was the only thing they had in common.

  Deckland, the oldest of the three, had taken his reign as leader five years ago when their parents had perished in a car accident. Responsible and grounded, it’d only been natural that Deckland should run Brooke Creek Ranch. A star athlete in school, he could have gotten a scholarship to the finest college, but Deckland had never wanted anything but to work the land.

  Dante, reckless and wild, had barely gotten through high school. After he’d slept his way through Lincoln High, and effectively running out of female conquests, he’d left town for a period of time—to experience life. He’d come back three years later, and although he’d changed, Dillon knew his brother would always crave an adrenaline rush, at the hands of a woman or a fast machine.

  Now, Dante had decided to settle down with Cassie.

  Dillon tightened his grip on the steering wheel, controlling the sudden wave of anger. He’d known Cassie all through school, they’d mingled in the same crowd. The daughter of a wealthy rancher, Cassie had never lacked in anything, especially attention from the opposite sex.

  And once upon a time, she’d only wanted Dillon.

  They’d shared hopes, dreams…, and many other things in the back of a Mustang.

  After graduation, both had gone to separate colleges, a mutual agreement to part and satisfy the need for education. Dillon came back to town with a degree in engineering and Cassie was already teaching at a local elementary school. Six years had passed but the attraction hadn’t faded. Taking up where they’d left off after high school, soon they were planning to get married and raise a family a few years down the road.

  He wasn’t sure what happened to shatter the dreams, but whatever it was, it’d happened quickly and mercilessly. Cassie showed up at the ranch, handed back the ring he’d given her, and in a foggy state of mind, Dillon took off in a desire to find peace. He’d landed in Shelby working the McAllister Ranch, allowing him the time he needed to get his head back on straight. He met some great people who’d showed him what true love meant.

  Here he was, with rocks in his head again.

  He should pull away from Starkey’s and head to the ranch and grab a few winks, but his stubborn pride kept him from starting his truck.

  Bolts of lightning splintered the sky as a loud roll of thunder shattered the silence—matching his inner turmoil.

  Growing tired of his own company, he needed to do something. Anything.

  Grabbing his hat from the passenger seat and his keys from the ignition, he slid out of the driver’s side, splashing through puddles with his worn boots as he raced across Main Street.

  He pushed open the weatherworn, wooden door and an upbeat country tune filtered out. The song about cheating women seemed suitable.

  Stepping in out of the rain, he took off his hat, gave it a shake then placed it back on his head. Glancing around the familiar rustic decorations, he smiled as memories tugged at his mind—days of pool-playing, drinking beer and karaoke. Not tonight. Remembering why he’d come made his body tighten automatically.

  A few people were playing pool and a couple sat at the bar, but compared to how it used to be, the place was empty.

  “Well, well, look what the cat done dragged in…”

  Dillon brought his head around to the familiar face working behind the bar. “Hey, Starkey. It’s good to see you.” Dillon shook the man’s hand.

  “What can I get for you?” Starkey asked.

  “I’ll take a beer.”

  “Coming right up.”

  The song ended and people circulated. Dillon slid his gaze down the rutted bar and came in visual contact with half of the reason why he’d come home. Cassie was sitting at the end of the bar, her attention on her cell phone as she tapped away.

  “Here’s your beer.” Starkey handed him an open bottle.

  Dillon took the long neck and drank half of it in one swig. He wiped his hand across his mouth and started toward the petite blonde, but stopped short when a tall, pretty-faced cowboy joined her. Dante.

  Watching Cassie’s profile sent a sharp pain through Dillon’s head. She rolled her shoulders to the rhythm of the music as she played with a tendril of her hair. He couldn’t see her pale gaze, but he guessed her eyes were full of sparkle. Dante lowered his head, whispered something in her ear as a smile curved her plump, pink lips. Whatever he’d said must have been funny because her head tilted and she erupted into laughter.

  The twang of the song drifted from the jukebox, growing louder in his ears as it competed with the heavy beating of his heart thudding against his rib cage. His stomach twisted and sank all the way down his jeaned legs to the tip of his wet boots. The ache of awareness clutched every muscle of his body as he watched his brother wrap his brawny arms around his woman—his ex-woman.

  Dillon enfolded his fingers around the bottle, wishing the long neck would turn into Dante’s redneck. His brother deserved a good strangling and ass kicking. Afraid he’d break the glass, he loosened his grasp.

  Dante took a step away from Cassie, kissing her hand. His flawless smile gleamed against the olive tan of his perfect complexion. Women had always adored Dante. Hell, what was not to like? He had the good looks and dripped of charm, just unfortunate that he’d sweet-talk anything wearing a skirt.

  But Cassie was different. She was sweet and kind…she was Dillon’s first love. The first girl he’d kissed. They’d made family plans together.

  Betrayal passed through him like a jagged blade. Dante was his brother. They’d always defended one another, protected each other. How could he do this?

  Setting his bottle down, Dillon marched the short distance to the couple of interest. Dante saw him first. He blinked then his eyes widened, but the smile remained. “Hey, brother. What are you doing here?”

  A mantra crashed through Dillon’s mind. Don’t hit him. Don’t hit him. Damn, I want to hit him.


  His fury matched the raging storm outside. Lightening was sending shards of electrical current rushing through his bloodstream as the thunder cracked through his bones. He clenched his hands into balls as the knife in his back slid deeper.

  And then he slammed his fist into Dante’s Robert Redford smile.

  Cassie jumped from the stool and took a stumble back. A cry shot from her twisted lips before her hands came up to cover her mouth. Her shocked eyes broadened above the tips of her red-tipped nails.

  “Damn it, you son-of-a-bitch! What the hell is wrong with you?” Dante shrieked. “Have you lost your mind?”

  Dillon shook as he attempted to release all of the hurt and anger rippling through him. He watched as Dante brought his hand up and held his red face. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this heated—this betrayed.

  Brothers don’t do this to each other.

  Turning his chin, Dillon stared at Cassie. Five-foot-four inches of sultry curves covered in a short jean skirt and white cowgirl boots. He moved his scowl over her large, firm breasts exposed in the low neckline, to the diamond belly piercing peeking out from the shirt, along the swell of hips, down long, tanned legs. As much as he hated to admit it, she was a damn sexy woman. Even now, his cock twitched remembering how hot their lovemaking had been, how many times she’d rode him hard down a path of pleasure. Cassie was a woman who knew how to please, in and out of bed.

  And now she was pleasing his brother.

  His insides burned.

  “Dillon…” Dante must have gotten over some of his shock because he was now standing straight, his jaw tight and his green eyes full of revenge.

  “It’s best you keep your mouth shut or the next punch will knock out every single one of your pretty white teeth.” Dillon meant every word.

  “Don’t do this.” Cassie stepped forward. Her hand was gone from her mouth and Dillon could see the trail of tears along her crimson cheeks. Her lips were trembling and he couldn’t deny that a part of him hated seeing her like this.

  The song ended and an awkward hush settled. Dillon didn’t need to look to know all eyes were on the brother duo, waiting and watching. The Brooke brothers had gotten an honest reputation for scrapping, but never for fighting each other. Thankfully, another song started, a faster tune with heavy drumming. It matched the pace of his racing heart.

  “Please, Dillon.” Cassie took a step closer, her stunned gaze meeting his, and in that split second, Dillon felt harsh reality sink in. He had no future with Cassie. No longer did they share hopes and dreams. She belonged with someone else.

  He pulled his attention away from her and onto Dante who was stroking his inflamed jaw.

  “I should kick your ass for this,” Dante spat.

  “And we both know who’d come out on the losing end of that, don’t we?” Dillon snarled.

  “I don’t want any trouble here Brooke boys! Show’s over or take it outside.” Starkey’s voice rose above the tempo wailing from the jukebox.

  “It’s okay, Starkey. I’ve got this.” A new voice entered the quarrel.

  Dillon and Dante turned at the same time. Deckland stood behind them sporting an expression that could warn the bravest to approach carefully. Problem was, Dillon’s wrath still needed quenched. “Stay out of this, Deck. He’s getting what he deserves.”

  “Did you leave your brain back in Shelby, brother? You know there’s no way in hell I’ll watch the two of you stupid son-of-a-guns rip each other apart, especially over a female.” Deckland stepped in between them. “There will be time to work it out when tempers are light. For now, Dante, you and Cassie need to leave. The weather’s bad anyway. Tornado warnings are all over the news.”

  “Why should we leave?” Dante dropped his hand from his already-bruising cheek.

  “Because if you don’t, I’m going to let Dillon smack you around in front of all of your friends, your girl, and when he’s done, I’m going to whoop your ass too for being an idiot.” Deckland’s gaze narrowed as one corner of his mouth thinned.

  “Fine.” Dante grabbed his hat off one of the bar stools, took Cassie’s hand and they started for the door. Dillon didn’t even bother watching them leave. He’d seen enough.

  “Well, brother, it’s nice to see you again, but it didn’t have to be with me breaking up another round of tempers between you and Dante. When will you two just grow up?” Deckland patted Dillon’s shoulder.

  “You don’t think Dante deserves his ass kicked into the next county?” Dillon felt a sting in his knuckles and he looked down at his clenched hand. Red splotches marred the skin. Stretching his fingers, he attempted to ease the stiffness, grateful that he didn’t break a bone.

  “Probably, but you’ll see things differently in time.” Deckland motioned for Dillon to sit on the nearest stool at the bar. “Give us two shots here, Starkey.”

  “I won’t see this as anything but Dante’s betrayal.” Dillon sat but the tension remained in his muscles.

  “Why are you fighting over something that’s already gone? Time to face the facts. Cassie and you were never meant to be together.”

  Dillon shook his head as Starkey set two filled shot glasses in front of them. “Just because Dante can’t keep his dick in his pants doesn’t mean I should face anything.” He picked up the small tumbler, brought it to his lips and sucked the liquid down. The fire burned all the way into his stomach, and thankfully, he felt layers of his anger release.

  “Dante’s only half responsible for this, brother.” Deckland sipped his whiskey. “He hasn’t forced Cassie into anything. She has gone willingly into all of this. In fact, she’s been after him for quite some time now. Just as soon as you took off, she was coming around the house. And it’s all history. You and Cassie may have had some good in your relationship, but it lacked that certain spark. You know what I’m saying is true.”

  “I beg to differ,” Dillon mumbled.

  “Besides the sex.”

  Dillon shrugged and ordered another shot. “When was the last relationship you had? Hell, when was the last time you had sex?” Of course, Dillon couldn’t consider himself a man with a lot of relationship experience to base his beliefs on, but things had been pretty hot between the sheets with Cassie and everything else just sort of fell into place.

  “This ain’t about my love life, partner. It’s about yours. You need a woman who knows what she wants. Cassie has always been confused about her life, unless she was making a choice for a new pair of shoes,” Deckland said.

  Dillon didn’t even wait for Starkey to set his drink down. He took it from the bartender’s hand and, like the last, as soon as it touched his lips it was emptied. He set the glass down with a crack.

  “You may want to slow down there. This stuff isn’t your watered-down whiskey.” Deckland finally finished his first.

  “Don’t need you to worry about me. A good drunk is just what this cowboy needs.”

  ****

  “Okay, so tell me again, why we are out in this weather?” Peyton Keller asked her friend, Aspen, as they pulled up in front of the country bar. “You know this isn’t my thing.”

  “And that’s why we’re doing this. Look, you wouldn’t go with me to that new club in San Antonio, so you should be able to handle this place.”

  Peyton glanced across the seat of the car and caught her dearest friend with a pensive eye. “We should be home tonight. Didn’t you listen to the weather forecast? There’s a tornado warning for our area.”

  Aspen rolled her eyes and moaned. “You’re home every evening. Come on, Pey. How often do you get an evening out? You’re home with Oliver night after night.”

  “That’s because he’s my son and my responsibility.” She’d never once regretted not having a social life and realized that Aspen, who didn’t have children, didn’t understand. “If you ever settle down, your priorities will change.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I love Oliver, too. But, you’re the oldest thirty-year-old I’ve ever met. Wo
uldn’t you like to start dating again? Don’t you miss the feel of a man’s—”

  Peyton threw up her hand. “You can stop right there, thank you very much. Between taking care of Oliver and running the dance studio, I don’t have time for dating.”

  Aspen huffed. “Okay, let’s not talk men tonight. Let’s go in and have a glass of wine. Does that sound good?”

  “Yes, a glass of wine does sound appealing.” Peyton looked through the windshield at the pouring rain. “Think we can get inside without looking like we’re competing in a wet T-shirt contest?”

  “No worries for me. The girls are nice and cozy in this padded Victoria’s Secret bra.” She chuckled and drove her words home by cupping her breasts.

  “At least one of us came prepared.” Peyton shook her head. “Ready?”

  They darted from the car and raced up the sidewalk, pushing open the door in record speed. They were only slightly damp and Peyton did a quick check at her reflection in the mirror at the entrance to make sure her thin bra did the trick. No nips showing. Of course, with barely-there-boobs, she never had to worry much, not like Aspen who had bragging rights. Of course, anything that could be enhanced, Aspen would. Peyton had given up long ago on enhancing any of her body parts. Probably about the same time Oliver’s dad had walked out on them, leaving her to care for their young child. She’d been working hard since, going through life focused, careless if she ever met another man.

  Once bitten was enough for her.

  As they walked further into the bar, Peyton noticed a few heads turning and ogling. Not at her, of course. Aspen’s pert Cs always stole the spotlight. Peyton giggled as a sloppy drunk almost fell off his barstool from gawking at the main attraction. Poor fellow.

  “How about there?” Aspen pointed to two empty seats at the bar.

  “I say there.” Peyton started toward a table in the corner, not waiting for Aspen’s refusal, which she knew would come. But when it did, it was too late because Peyton was already sitting.

  “It’s just like you to sit away from the crowd.” Aspen pulled out a chair and plopped down. “We can’t see anything from here.”