Second Sunrise Cowboy (Second Chance Book 8)
Read Second Sunrise Cowboy (Second Chance Book 8) Online
Authors: Rhonda Lee Carver
Second Sunrise Cowboy
2015 Rhonda Lee Carver
Copyright © 2015 by Rhonda Lee Carver
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States
Published by Rhonda Lee Carver
Cover Art by Rhonda Lee Carver
Edits by Todd Tinker
Second Sunshine Cowboy
Book 8, Second Chance Series
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database, or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
EXTRA – Cowboy Paradise excerpt (Chapter One)
Chapter One
The rain splattered Cash Bailey’s hat and water puddled around his boots as he shuffled his feet in the thick mud. The cold wind penetrated his black suit jacket, his jeans were soaked. The temperature was unusually brisk for a Texas afternoon.
Thunder churned in the grey sky, competing with the muffled moans and sobs coming from the small circle of people surrounding the burial plot. Bitter memories surfaced for Cash. He swallowed against the ache in his throat, but it didn’t help. His brain flooded with thoughts of a time when he’d succumbed to sadness unlike any other he’d known. Burying his hands deep into his front pockets, he wanted to hide the shaking, and kept his gaze steady on the shiny brown coffin being lowered into the damp ground. He wished he could force his mind to stay in the present, not five years ago when he’d lost his wife and his world had tumbled down around him. Misery had taken up residence in his soul.
He looked up into the rolling, dark clouds. Rain splashed his face and he brushed the wetness away.
Although years had passed and the internal gaping wounds had turned to scars, the dull pain lurking in his heart was a reminder every day of how life could end at any moment, even for those left behind.
His wife had been laid to rest at this same cemetery on a day much like this one. Rainy and bitter cold. He looked across the uneven rows of gravestones and waves of flowers, settling his gaze on the heart-shaped headstone of Rebecca Halloway-Bailey. Acid spread through his chest and he fought it with every fiber of his being, denying his body the right to wallow in agony.
Turning his attention back to the casket, he gritted his teeth, refusing to lose it here in front of people he barely knew—people who had no clue about loss, particularly his. He hadn’t cried in years and he wasn’t about to start again now. He’d locked his emotions behind a wall and tossed the key away. He found strength in the one person who needed him…
Shifting his gaze to his daughter, Becca, she surveyed the scene with the understanding of a young child—wide-eyed and confused. Thankfully, he’d remembered her coat that morning, although it fit too small. She was growing like a weed and had outgrown most of her clothes. How did time pass so quickly? Seemed like only yesterday he was changing her diapers and rocking her to sleep.
A baby when Rebecca passed away, Becca didn’t carry the same heartache of watching the light leave her mother’s eyes as she grew sicker. Cash couldn’t think of anything more heartbreaking than seeing a loved one suffer and not being able to help and protect them. Becca missed seeing her momma’s beautiful blue eyes, her long ebony hair that Becca would entwine her small fingers through while Rebecca fed her.
His wife had been Cash’s better half. Her soft, sweet laughter could brighten the gloomiest of days—definitely had made him happier. She was the ray of sunshine making life good. Things weren’t always easy, and they’d certainly had their rough patches, but they’d cared for one another.
And now, he and Becca were alone. This saddened and angered him at the same time.
After Rebecca died, Cash had gone through a vicious stage of grieving—if it could be called grieving. He’d blocked out everyone, even his daughter, for a period of time until he got his act together and became the father Rebecca would have expected. Over the years, he’d buried himself in work at Havens Ranch which he and his brother, Tucker, owned together. Working the land and being a single parent kept Cash busy, so the pain was tolerable. Although some days he wanted to put his fist through a wall, he didn’t allow anger to get the best of him.
He pulled his hands from his pockets and flexed them. He hated cancer—hated the fact that the evil swept into his home, his happy family, and took away Becca’s mother, his happiness. He couldn’t stand that he was lonely, especially at night, and how guilt settled in his gut when he thought of moving forward, allowing someone else inside his heart.
He deserved joy. Becca deserved happiness, and needed a mother—needed the nurturing a good woman could offer. But every time he thought about dating, he would think of a dozen reasons why he wasn’t ready.
“Delores was a kind woman. Loved by many, cherished by all. Her kind nature will be missed in this community…”
Cash tried to focus on the words of Pastor Mark as he read Delores’s eulogy. He would miss the bubbly woman who’d been like a grandmother to Becca. Delores had died in her sleep three days ago, succumbing to heart failure, a disease she’d been suffering with for a few years. She’d never complained, always energetic and lively, ready to offer a smile.
As the coffin disappeared further into the ground, the cranks squeaked and cracked, making Cash’s head throb. People stepped forward, dressed in all black, dropping red roses onto the casket.
He glanced across the group of friends, mostly from church, gathered for the services. Cash’s brother, Tucker, stood on the right of him, and his wife, Hope, was next to Becca, holding her hand. He didn’t think he’d know what to do if he didn’t have his brother and sister-in-law helping him. They were always there for Becca and would keep her several nights a week, but lately Cash refrained from asking for much since their little girl, Marah, had made her presence into the world. And they had Dalton, the little boy they’d adopted. He stood on the other side of Hope holding an action figure. Cash smiled. It was a popular superhero he’d recently given to Dalton.
Movement caught Cash’s attention. A woman stepped forward and dropped a white orchid onto the coffin—the pale color looked stark against the backdrop of the darker roses.
She moved back into the group, her arms tight against her body, her hands clasped together and knuckles white. She shivered in her short-sleeved white blouse and knee-length black skirt, soaked from her roots to the tips of her open-toed shoes. Her hair draped over her face, hiding her expression except for her trembling lips. Water poured from the ends of her shoulder-length cut, making a path over her chest, and her nipples were hard, outlined in the thin material. He sniffed and moved his gaze back to a safer location. Her shoulders shook and he realized it came from more than the cold air. His gut clenched as his protective side jerked awake. Who was she? Didn’t she have anyone here to comfort her? He could relate to the woman’s feelings. Although he’d had family surrounding him at Rebecca’s funeral, he’d felt more alone than ever.
“Who’s that woman?” he whispered to Hope.
“Delores’s niece, Dakota.”
He rubbed his chin. Delores had been Hope’s only acquaintance here in town.
Cash remembered Hope mentioning that the niece would be coming in for the funeral. Now that he looked closer, he believed he’d met her once a few years back, but she had longer hair and wore a smile. A frown could change a person’s entire look.
He couldn’t have her standing there, suffering in the rain and cold.
Cash bent close to Becca’s ear. “Will you share Aunt Hope’s umbrella so I can borrow yours?”
Becca nodded and handed it to him, then stepped closer to Hope. He moved across the wet grass, sinking into the dirt as he rounded the open plot to the shivering woman. She snapped her chin upward, meeting his gaze. He held his breath as she stared up at him, her eyes shining and her bottom lip shivering. A tinge of blue colored her cheeks as water slid down her face and dropped to her already wet top. She looked vulnerable and uneasy, and something eased in his heart.
Seconds ticked by and he lost track of everything and everyone around him except for the woman who seemed as shocked as him. He looked over his shoulder, noticing Becca watching him in curiosity. What the hell was wrong with him? He scowled. This wasn’t the time or place to look like an idiot.
“Yes?”
Her soft voice drew him out of the fog. “I thought you could use this.” He held out the umbrella, thrusting it at her.
“I’m fine,” she said, her voice shaking.
“Apparently not. Who dresses like this in a downpour?” He realized the harshness in his tone, but he couldn’t help himself. Every muscle in his body tightened.
She blinked. “Someone who expected a typical one-hundred degree day. It’s Texas.”
“Just take the umbrella.” He still held it out awkwardly.
“Then what will you use?”
“I have a hat.” Why didn’t she just take the damn thing? He could feel more eyes watching them. “Trust me, you need it more than I do.” His gaze involuntarily dropped to the front of her blouse.
Oh shit!
He snapped his eyes back up. Her frown burnt straight through him.
A long hesitation passed before she finally took it, their fingers brushed and a heat crawled through his arm. For the first time since he’d come to the cemetery his body temperature had returned to normal. “Thank you.”
She didn’t seem grateful at all.
He came over to give her the umbrella. She had it and his courteous gesture was accomplished. Time to move on.
Dipping his hat, he walked back into the circle. In his peripheral, he saw Tucker and Hope staring, but he didn’t pretend to notice. There wasn’t a damn thing wrong with being a gentleman. No way in hell could they have known just how off guard he was by the woman and the emotions spiraling through him.
The pastor asked everyone to bid a farewell to the delightful lady, Delores, as her casket disappeared completely—then bowed his head in prayer.
Cash lowered his head, but the temptation was too strong. He lifted his chin, looking at the blonde. She held the umbrella open over her head and some of the shaking had left her body. He couldn’t tell if those were tears or rain that she quickly swiped away. As if he no longer had control over right or wrong, he swept his gaze over the shirt that clung to her body and a familiar tug happened below his waist. What the hell was wrong with him? She couldn’t be much older than thirty, too skinny, and looked like she’d fall over if someone blinked her way. No, he didn’t find her attractive, not one bit. He only hated seeing someone grieve.
She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze, catching him with his hand in the cookie jar, so to speak. His mind warned him to turn and pretend he didn’t see her, but what he saw in the pale depths held him steady. It became a game of chicken, who would look away first? Her eyes widened as the corners of her lips curved down, a perfect glare. Then she turned her cheek.
Good way to make a first impression.
He could only imagine what she thought of him, not that he should care.
Hell, he knew he was rusty when it came to dealing with women.
The only women he talked to on a daily basis either shared his DNA or was related by marriage. The last date he’d been on was with his wife, and things had changed—he’d changed. He glanced at his daughter. If only she knew how much of a corroded old fool her father was. He couldn’t even make a kind gesture toward a woman without becoming a blustering idiot.
The Bailey boys had never been the best at communication. Thankfully, Tucker found a woman who loved him anyway. Cash had it once, but damn, a second chance would be a miracle.
Dragging his gaze to the sky, he wished the rain would pass.. Mother Nature refused to let up on the downpour, even for a wonderful woman like Delores.
He scrubbed his wet face and stared through the mist when a silhouette along the narrow lane caught his attention. He blinked and narrowed his eyes, attempting to focus on the shadowed figure. It was a woman, he could tell by her long, flowing hair. She wore all black and leaned against a tree, watching the service from afar. Another niece maybe? He didn’t have any more umbrellas to give.
The stranger pushed off the tree and started walking in between the parked cars. The manner of her walk, the hair, looked familiar. His lungs deflated and his heart kicked up in speed. But it couldn’t be possible…
He was seeing things. His emotions were sensitive. His brain wasn’t functioning right.
The figure became fuzzier and shifted, then disappeared in the heavy fog. He stared, not able to shake the feeling that he’d seen a ghost.
He looked at Tucker and Hope, but their heads were still bowed in prayer. Becca had her head buried in Hope’s sleeve.
Thunder vibrated the sky and the rain came down harder, making visibility impossible. His stomach looped and he felt sick. His breathing became labored and puffs of vapor blew from his mouth. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move.
He felt a tug on his hand. “Daddy?”
Looking down at Becca, he smiled. She was the spitting image of Rebecca…blue eyes, dark hair hiding under a pretty pink hat. Her skin almost looked alabaster against the backdrop of the jacket. “It’s time to go,” she whispered.
Scanning the road again, the woman was gone. People made their way toward their vehicles.
Gaining his focus, he offered his daughter his hand. “Thank you, sweetheart. Let’s go.”
****
Dakota Childs walked through the pouring rain toward her car, not caring that her brand new leopard heels were soaked and probably ruined. Her wet hair clung to her cheeks and the silk top adhered to her skin. It wasn’t the best choice of outfit, but she hadn’t expected the weather to be miserable.
She wished that sunshine would peek through the clouds to dry the rain. Delores loved the sunshine. Dakota sniffed back another round of tears, clutching the handle of the umbrella that didn’t belong to her. She skimmed the road and the scattering crowd, but the cowboy was gone. Probably for the best. Besides the generous offering of his umbrella, she considered him rude. He’d practically interrogated her for not dressing appropriately. How dare him!