Second Dance Cowboy (Second Chance) Read online

  “I don’t want to owe you, or anyone.” For years, she’d relied on her Uncle Marty, and although it’d taken her a long time to get on her feet, she was proud of her independence now.

  “Hey, I get that you’re an independent woman. I’m not looking to change that. It’s a few bags of groceries, not a kidney. Have a good night.” He tugged his hat lower and pushed away from the door.

  “Wait. How about dinner in exchange?” If she’d thought over the invite, she’d probably have talked herself out of it.

  He hesitated. “I have a steak out in the truck that’ll go bad.”

  “I know how to cook steak. I’ve already put my breasts in the oven.” Realizing what she’d said, she shook her head. “Not my breasts, the chicken breasts.”

  His laughter eased her tension. “I don’t know. I think I overstepped an invisible boundary at the bar and then again at the grocery. I’m not sure I can trust that I won’t make a fool of myself again.”

  “I guess I was a bit harsh in my comments. I promise, no unleashing. Is that fair?”

  “If I’m not intruding, I’d like to stay.”

  She stepped back and opened the door wider. “Grab your steak and come in.” He came back with the package and handed it to her. Seeing him in her home seemed, well, awkward and nice too. It’d been years since she’d cooked dinner for a man who wasn’t a relative. She hoped she managed without burning anything. “Have a seat.”

  He’d barely had time to sit before Oliver came bustling in. “Do you play video games?”

  Dillon shrugged. “I haven’t in years.”

  “You wanna try boxing? We can compete against each other,” Oliver asked with excitement.

  “Sure, I can try. I can’t promise I’m any good.” Dillon took the controller Oliver handed him.

  Peyton smiled as she excused herself to finish dinner. She didn’t think either of them heard her.

  In the kitchen, she prepared potatoes and the steak while she listened to the conversation in the next room. She went from happy to sad to happy again in a matter of minutes. Her son craved a man’s approval and she understood. After her mom passed away, she didn’t have a female role model. She’d often wondered what it’d be like if her mom was still alive. Children needed affirmation from adults. Thankfully, her Uncle Marty had been there for her, and now Oliver, yet her son seemed to need more. She guessed Uncle Marty wasn’t as fun since he didn’t play video games and toss a football anymore.

  Her son had become a chatterbox in Dillon’s company, the most she’d heard him talk in a month. When he was younger they’d talk for hours, play board games, he seemed happy, and now he wanted to spend more and more time with friends and on the soccer field. Her little guy was growing up.

  Anger sliced through her. How could Richie not participate in the upbringing of their son? How could he love his band more than he did anyone? As a drummer for a semi-popular band, being on the road some was necessary, she understood, but Richie had screwed priorities.

  Grabbing a meat tenderizer, she pounded the steak as she listened closer to the discussion in the living room. They were talking about a racing game. She slapped the meat onto the broiling pan and sighed.

  Peeking around the corner, she caught a glimpse of Mr. Studly. No denying the man was buff and brawny and could melt her with a flash of his dimples. He was actually sitting in her living room, on her couch. They were going to eat dinner together.

  She shook her head lightly.

  This was a simple thank you invitation. After all, he’d bought her groceries, as well as brought them to her. Had he seen her beauty items? Her face heated at the mere thought. Would she ever live down the embarrassment? Probably not. This would teach her to balance her checkbook better.

  Anyway, she owed him something for her own peace of mind. She’d fix him dinner and he’d be out the door by eight—nine at the latest.

  In the meantime, she’d prepare herself for walking the straight line. No ogling him like he was a fresh piece of meat. No touching…not even a brushing of body parts. No divulging of personal information or thoughts. Just a friendly thank you dinner between old acquaintances. Easy.

  An hour later, with dinner finished and Oliver taking a shower, Peyton mentally patted herself on the shoulder. She’d accomplished a civil dinner between friends. They’d talked about the weather, football, soccer and politics—nothing personal.

  It wasn’t until Dillon had cleared the table that she felt a crack in her wall. Not used to having help, combined with him being close, was almost too much to handle. Each time she got a whiff of his masculine scent she wanted to lay her head on his shoulder and feel his arms wrapped around her. She knew where that would lead. Somewhere very, very good but oh-so- dangerous.

  “I’ll get those,” she said when he started pouring water in the sink and putting dishes in.

  “I don’t mind.” He continued. “I’ll even wash.” He gave her a smile that did awesome things to her nerve endings.

  “I have a dishwasher.” The kitchen was small—too small for one brawny cowboy who smelled of mint and man.

  “I like using my hands.” He winked.

  The temperature rose and sweat beaded between her breasts. She clicked on the ceiling fan and hoped it worked in record time. “If you insist.” Arguing would only make her hotter.

  While he washed, she pretended interest in making coffee, but uncontrollably stole glances of the soapy water running over his large hands, his muscles coiling under his shirt, the way his bottom tightened in his nice fitting jeans. An image popped in her head—his thick fingers smoothing across her bare skin, awakening the neglected places and fondling—

  “Peyton?”

  She jerked and the tablespoon of coffee granules shot in the air, spilling all over the counter.

  Oh, Lordy! He wasn’t fiddling with the dishes any longer. His eyes were on her, his brows lifted over curious eyes.

  “Yes?” Could he see her thoughts? She’d been caught in man candy-land.

  “You turned on the power but you haven’t filled the container with coffee.” He chuckled.

  “Oh, I-I guess I didn’t.” Alone with him and actually processing thought at the same time didn’t work. Not when her mind was preoccupied with fantasy sex. She could feel the blush wash over her skin as she clumsily measured the coffee granules. Once she hit start, it began to brew, and so did heavenly desire in the pit of her stomach.

  ****

  Dillon knew he should have left by now. Peyton had excused herself to put Oliver in bed and he should have made some lame excuse that he needed to water the dogs or get to bed early. Instead, he’d stayed and was scanning the row of framed pictures on the side table and mantel. Most were of Oliver alone, several of him and Peyton together. He wondered why there was none of Oliver and his dad.

  Taking his cup of coffee to the couch, he sat and waited. A few minutes later, Peyton was back, sitting at the other end of the small sofa. “Is he asleep?” he asked.

  “Almost.” She tucked her bare feet up under her bottom, exactly where he’d like his hands.

  “Where’s his father, Peyton? Are you two not together?” Should have been a question he’d asked the moment he realized she had a kid. He didn’t take Peyton as the type to cheat, but he also didn’t want to step on any toes.

  “No we aren’t, and for the first question, I have no clue. He doesn’t stay in touch.”

  “He isn’t a part of his son’s life?” He never could understand how a parent could leave their kids, but he knew it happened. “Oliver seems like a great kid. Any father should be proud.”

  “Ollie is a wonderful boy.” She seemed hesitant in revealing too much information. He understood.

  His chest tightened. Peyton was a single mom and he could only imagine how difficult that must be. A larger part of him wondered how a man could let her go. Women like her didn’t come along often. “I owe you an explanation. About the fight with my brother—”

&
nbsp; “You don’t owe me anything.” Her tongue swept out and moistened her bottom lip. He wanted to help her. He wondered what she tasted like. “You still have feelings for your ex, and perhaps want her back. That’s all the explanation needed.”

  He opened his mouth but slammed it shut. Had she said anything that he could deny? He guessed he did still have feelings for Cassie. They’d been close once upon a time and he wasn’t the type who could switch on and off his feelings. But getting Cassie back wasn’t going to happen. She’d gotten engaged to his brother, and although Dante didn’t have a lick of sense or loyalty to family, Dillon did. He’d never betray someone he cared for. “She’s engaged to my brother.”

  “I’m sorry. I know that must be difficult to digest.” She shifted and he could see her hardened nipples under the material of the thin dress. She’s a mother! He needed to keep reminding himself. “I’m sure you felt betrayed.”

  “And that’s why I hit him. I saw him with Cassie and it ripped through me. It’s something I’ll come to terms with eventually.” In the meantime, I’d really like to get to know you better.

  “I understand. I guess it took me a long time to get over Richie, not him as much as the disappointment of still loving him when he didn’t deserve it. Too bad we can’t choose who we love, right?” She sifted her fingers through her hair and it fell like silken waves back onto her shoulders. He was glad she’d taken down the bun. Hiding something so beautiful was a crime.

  “I may be overstepping a personal boundary here, but what happened between you two?” There was no maybe about it, he’d gotten personal.

  “He wasn’t ready to be a father, or a partner for that matter. His drums took priority and, when he joined an up and coming band, nothing compared to the fame and glory. Eventually, life on the road became more pleasurable than life as a family man. Three years into our marriage, I divorced him.”

  “His loss.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t see things quite that way.” She sighed as if to release all thought of the past. “By the way, just for the record, I can pay for our groceries. I’m just not very good with balancing my checkbook. I used to think I’d learn the skill, but I was mistaken. Thankfully, Aspen is much better with bookkeeping for the studio.” She laughed, but he noticed her cheeks turned a soft pink. He realized she was uncomfortable and he wanted to make it better for her.

  “That’s why I carry cash. I stay clear of plastic because I’d make a mess.”

  “Thank you. I didn’t say thank you, but I am.”

  “No problem.” He scooted to the edge of the cushion. “I should go.” He didn’t want to, but he reluctantly stood up and headed to the door. She followed him.

  “Once again, thank you.” Biting her bottom lip, her eyes glistened in the dim outside light.

  “Thank you for dinner.” What does a man say to a woman when he doubted he’d see her again, but he wanted to? Maybe ask her out? That was too fast. He couldn’t drag her into his confusion. They could be friends though.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Sure…no, I’m thinking, maybe we can see each other again. That is if you don’t mind having a man as a friend.”

  She laughed and he enjoyed the sound. “The town’s only so big. Maybe we’ll run into one another.”

  “I guess so, but it probably won’t be at the grocery store,” he said. Then he was turning and heading down the narrow walkway back to his truck. The six-pack sitting on the front seat was looking better by the second.

  He rolled into his own driveway just as the rain started. He jumped out and ran to the porch, but by the time he got inside, he was soaked. The house was quiet. He guessed Deckland was with friends and he assumed Dante was where he’d been last night—with Cassie.

  Climbing the stairs two at a time, he went straight into the bathroom, stripped off his wet clothes and jumped into the hot shower. The pelting water against his tight muscles felt good. He only wished it could do something for the tension inside, but no amount of water could wash away his need for a beautiful woman.

  Now he’d learned that certain woman had a kid. He thought back to the night he’d gone to the diner where she’d worked. They were the only two in the place. He remembered hot coffee spilling on his legs and bland apple pie. That was okay because the unforgettable conversation with Peyton had been his only interest.

  He’d split up with Cassie and, although he hadn’t been looking for someone, Peyton had always caught his attention when he saw her. She’d seemed so full of life with so many dreams. He respected that.

  Calculating the years, he realized she must have gotten pregnant with Oliver soon after that night. She hadn’t mentioned seeing anyone or being involved. Hell, he hadn’t mentioned Cassie either. Truth was, she’d been the last person on his mind that night.

  He’d forgotten he’d made plans for the next evening, and not because he’d forgotten Peyton. She had no clue that Dante had been in an accident and had almost died. After a week in ICU and a month of therapy, his brother had finally recovered. The whirlwind of events had preoccupied Dillon. He’d gone back to the diner but her boss had told him she’d quit.

  He’d thought about Peyton when he first came home from college, and he wondered what may have happened if they’d met up again.

  Now he knew. Kismet.

  Damn! He didn’t believe in destiny. Life was what a person made of it and Cassie made that apparent.

  He buried his head under the spray. Deckland had warned Dillon long ago that he needed to stay clear of Cassie’s hold. At the time, he’d brushed his brother’s concern off as nonsense. Now, Dillon understood that he’d jumped back into something he should have run from.

  Some lessons are hard learned.

  Turning off the water, he dried off, wrapped the towel low on his hips and went down the hall to his bedroom. Pushing open the door, the light was on and he stopped short. His stomach twisted. “Cassie? What are you doing here?” She was sitting on the edge of his bed. Her short skirt clung high on her hips, her long tanned legs stretched forever into the cowgirl boots. The image could have come straight from the olden days when she spent a lot of time in his room. He stepped across the threshold and started to close the door, but thought better. He left it wide open and kept his distance.

  “You and I need to talk,” she said.

  “No we don’t.” There wasn’t a damn thing he wanted to hear or say to her.

  She leaned forward, exposing a large portion of breasts beneath the low V-neck top. “Yes we do. The last thing I want is for you and Dante angry at one another.”

  “Maybe you should have thought about that before you screwed him. But it didn’t matter much then, huh?” He was happy that he didn’t feel anger, only remorse.

  “We were broken up, Dillon.” She stood up, but stayed by the bed.

  “And that gave you the right to take up with my brother?” She took a step and he moved to his dresser, grabbing a T-shirt and boxers, but he made no move to pull either of them on.

  “It just happened. Neither Dante nor I planned for the connection. We couldn’t deny the feelings we have for each other. We want you to be happy for us.”

  “Does Dante know you’re here?” He looked at her and his breath caught. She’d changed. She’d disappeared under a façade. Everything about her seemed fake, even her voluptuous body that one time he couldn’t get enough of. He no longer found her attractive. The only thing that came to mind was Peyton, her caring eyes, sweet smile and unaltered beauty.

  “No. He went to the store to grab a few things.” Cassie crossed the room and stood before him, shoving her hands into the front pockets of the skirt. “I feel bad for you—”

  “You shouldn’t. I’m happy. I’ve found someone else.” Shit! What was he saying? The words had fallen from his mouth before he’d thought them through.

  Cassie’s eyes widened and one corner of her mouth twisted. “You have? That was fast.”

  He should stop the
lie now. He should admit he didn’t have anyone, but he just couldn’t manage to make his tongue work to utter the words. “We’ve known each other for a while.”

  “Who is she?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Her hands came up out of her pockets and slid through her hair, sending blonde tendrils bouncing. “Yes, it does. I didn’t realize you’d moved on.”

  Seeing her astonishment made the hair stand on his neck. “Peyton Keller.” He was done for. Peyton would shoot him.

  Cassie’s red lips thinned. “Peyton? I know her. She owns the dance studio and her son attends the school I teach at.”

  Fuck! This was the very reason why he’d prided himself in never lying. One fib led to another, to another and so on. If Peyton thought he was a jerk before, she was really going to despise him now. “Oliver’s a great kid.”

  “Of course…yes, he’s a smart kid. I—I guess I’m just shocked.” She tugged her hair behind her ear.

  “So, you better go before Dante starts wondering where you are.” The quicker she left the better. He was angry with himself for dragging Peyton into this, but somehow mended in the smugness that came with putting Cassie in her place.

  “Yes, I should leave.” Cassie moved to the door, the heels of her boots knocking against the floor. “’Bye.”

  He didn’t even acknowledge her as she closed the door. He heard the faint clicking of her steps disappearing down the hall. Relieved, he pulled off the damp towel and tossed it onto the floor. He grabbed his underwear and had them pulled to his knees when the door swung open. “What the—”

  Deckland stepped in, his eyes narrowed and his lips thin. “What the fuck was she doing here? And what are you doing undressed?” His brawny chest bulged.

  “Don’t you knock?” Dillon finished pulling up his boxers and adjusted himself.

  “Can’t you keep your dick inside your pants?” Deckland growled.

  “It’s not what it looks like, Deck.” Dillon shook his head at seeing the disapproval on his brother’s face.

  “Oh, really? It’s every day that your brother’s fiancé, who just happens to be your ex-fiancé, is seen walking out of your bedroom where you just happen to be naked. Sure, I’d love to hear the explanation.”