Second Song Cowboy (Second Chance) (8 page)

He’d excuse
d himself, walked out of Starkey’s and swore he’d get April out of his mind, one way or another. Now she was here and all his effort went down the tubes. She’d leave eventually. In the meantime, he’d steer clear.

Starting the bike,
she immediately held him tighter, her inner thighs squeezed his backside.
Shit!
He knew without a sliver of doubt he was being punished for all of the naughty things he’d done over the past years. Torment, pure torment. He hoped his cock would deflate soon.

“Where am I taking you?” he yelled.

“To the farm.”

The farm she referred to was her
grandpa’s place. The homestead had been empty since the old man died. Thankfully, it wasn’t far, and then he could scrape her off his body and head back out of her life.

He turned the
motorcycle around and headed her direction.

Once they were off the bike and standing in front of the old house, Dante hesitated leaving her.
He looked around at the unkempt yard, broken fences, dilapidated out buildings, and shook his head. He guessed Old Man Liam would roll over in his grave if he saw the mess of his home.

He watched April climb the rickety steps to the
porch as her slender shoulders slumped. What had she expected? A home takes a lot of work. “It’s not the Ritz, is it?” he said.

She whirled on him,
resentment in her gaze. “I could do without your cocky attitude at the moment,” she snapped.

His
attention naturally fell to her pearl pink lips until his balls ached. He’d liked to kiss the irritation right out of her deep green eyes.

Her scent lingered in his nostrils, her touch in his skin, deep within his bones
. At times he didn’t think he’d ever rid himself of the grasp she had on his soul.
Do I even want to?

Of course he did.

“Just speaking the obvious.” He scratched his jaw and leaned against the banister leading to the steps, hooking his thumbs in his front pockets.

She shrugged, as close to
an agreement he figured they’d get. “It’ll do me just fine. After a good cleaning and some hard work, this place will shine like a new penny.” Some of the glitter came back to her eyes and he found himself smiling. “Gramps and his father built this place with their own two hands. The foundation is strong.” As if to drive home her words, she lightly kicked a spindle on the railing. It splintered into several pieces. Brushing her hands together, she sighed. “That’s easily fixed.

He bit back laughter
but quickly stopped. No reason to entice the bull. “And then what, April? You leave and it goes under again?” As much as he hated to admit it, the question was for his benefit more than anything. “You flit around from place to place quicker than a butterfly. A home takes commitment.”

“And what do you know about commitment?” One
thin brow lifted in allegation.

“
Can we can keep this conversation on track? I’m referring to land, sweetheart. We don’t want to dissect history, do we?”

Her expression became solemn.
“I don’t know what the future holds for me here, but for now, Gramps left me this place for a reason. He knew I’d need to come home eventually.”

“Home?” He chuckled.
“That’s a big word for a woman who calls the road her life.” He pushed himself away from the post and kicked the toe of his boot through the overgrown weeds along the crumbled sidewalk. “Maybe you should think about selling this place.”

Her mouth thinned. “And why is that? So you and you
r brothers can buy the land?” She wrapped her arms round her waist and brought her chin up in a hard angle. “I don’t need the money, Dante.”

“It’s not about money, sweetheart.”
He saw the dark circles lining her eyes and he wondered what she’d been stressing over, but forced his sympathy to the back of his mind. He remembered all too well the distance in her that morning in Houston. It made his blood run cold. “You act as if Brooke Creek buying this place is a bad thing. We’d put it to good use instead of letting it go to waste.”

“Not going to happen.
” Determination filled her expression. “I’ll get this place in order. You watch and see.”

“If you can stick around long enough to throw on a coat of paint, mow the lawn and fix a fence or two,
sure, but I highly doubt it. This ain’t your cup of tea anymore, April. You traded in your country sass for designer clothes and sheets.”

“I didn’t hear any complaining from you about the expensive sheets back in Houston. Maybe you’re just sore b
ecause you miss them.”

“Interesting since you’re the one who showed up here
, darlin’. Did you come back for a fourth round?” He kept his gaze glued to hers, not liking how his body slammed to alert at the mention of an intimate reunion.

“I came back here because—”
A long pause.

“Because
why?”

“Never mind.” She dropped her arms at her sides
, grit thrown out of the window. What happened to the girl who never backed down?

He shrugged as he turned and
strolled back down the broken walkway. He half expected a rock to come whizzing past his ear, but instead, she flung a curse word at him. Maybe she hadn’t changed as much as he’d thought.

Climbing back onto his Harley, he caught a glimpse of her watching him as he drove away.

****

April listened until the sound of Dante’s motorcycle faded down the narrow, graveled lane
. She’d almost told him about the baby—almost. Her tongue had turned to rock and she couldn’t form the words.

Blowing
out a long breath through tight lips, she stepped into the house and then came another round of emotion.

Her Gramps’s house, her home. No matter how far she’d roamed, a piece of her remained here within the four walls.

The inside was exactly how she’d remembered from the worn, overstuffed chairs, the ancient T.V., down to her framed school pictures hanging on the wall. Everywhere she looked, she could see her Gramps.

Sniffing back tears, she
closed her eyes and inhaled sharply. She wanted to remember the good times, not the pain of loss. If she planned to stay, she needed to get a grip. She’d come here to relieve the stress, to find a resolution, not create pitfalls. Her Gramps knew she loved him and although she could no longer see him in physical form, his spirit surrounded her. She’d carry that in her heart always.

She’d gotten used to living in an apartment over the years and this two-story farmhouse had lots of room to spare. She loved it, even in the ramshackle condition, and she immediately conjured up images of children running through the rooms, barefoot pitter-pattering on the wooden floors
. A tire swing hung outside, and maybe a playhouse.

Her
memories of the farm were bountiful. She’d spent all of her summers here while her parents wandered from one place to another. Her mother’s job as an art curator allowed her to feed her need for exploring abroad. Her father worked for the family owned company and did his own fair share of business travel. At times, she got the feeling they didn’t like having her along. Where most kids would have jumped at the chance to see new places and adventure, for April, she always chose to visit Gramps Liam.

He’d filled the gaps
of her existence. Besides the nurturing he’d provided, he’d bought her a pony for her eighth birthday. He was her tooth fairy and Santa Claus. And at ten, he’d bought her a guitar, neither realizing where the instrument would take her.

She crossed into the kitchen and a whiff of pipe smoke met her. A comfortable feeling
followed.

T
he last time she’d seen him, he was sitting at the table eating a bowl of his famous soup beans and cornbread. Every Sunday, rain or shine, he’d make a large stockpot of his specialty and deliver bowls to all of the neighbors. Gramps Liam was a gentle man, always looking out for others, offering help. Without a sliver of doubt, he was the reason why she’d felt confident enough to follow her dreams. He listened to her sing, even when she knew he was tired from working the fields, and he’d always offered a word of praise.

Running her
hand along the heat marks and knife jabs on the countertop, she remembered how she’d made her first cake right here. It was horrible, but Gramps didn’t complain.

Looking out through the window above the sink into
the backyard, she could see herself as the little girl with knee-highs and ponytails learning how to ride a bike. When she’d skinned her knee, Gramps had patched her up with ointment and a bandage, telling her, “Don’t give up, young’un.”

He was gone.
How had time passed at the blink of an eye?

She palmed her flat stomach
. What would Gramps think of her predicament? He’d want her to raise the baby here, she was certain.

Dante had suggested that she sell this place. She had no doubt the
Brooke boys would buy up the one-hundred acre farm without any reservations. But this was
her
place, away from the stage, the lights, fans and the watchful eye of media. No one would find her here in this secret hideaway. Just like Dante said, none of the neighbors would pry or care about her fame.

Making things comfortable was
top priority. First on the list, call the rental company and let them handle the Lexus. Her stomach twisted as she thought back to the incident. What had gotten her panties in a real ruffle was how she’d clung to Dante on the back of his motorcycle. She’d never ridden on a bike and she wasn’t sure if her nerves were the biggest problem or the fact that he felt good.

The ride was
less than a half a mile, and yet her inner thighs still quivered from the experience. Several times, she’d found herself naturally burying her nose against his neck and inhaling. Not all men smelled as good as Dante. A lick or two wouldn’t have hurt her, but she’d controlled herself.

The
trembling in her core turned to throbs.

She wouldn’t be licking him anywhere. Rubbing
her fingers over her aching temples, she hoped it didn’t lead to a migraine.

She had some big fish to fry during her visit.

How would she tell him about the baby? Perhaps she needed to think of this new connection between them as a business relationship, two people who shared a precious gift. She’d have to put aside her emotions, which wouldn’t be easy. How does one carry around love for fifteen years and then suddenly expect to disregard feelings? If she could manage to ignore her heart, she’d have done it long ago.

Dante
was much more than a cowboy with good looks, charming smile and tall lean body. He had a huge heart that he only made available to special people. Once upon a time, he’d allowed her to see his vulnerability, his inner turmoil and secrets. He was bold and loved living life on the edge and she’d liked that about him, found it exciting. She wasn’t surprised at all when she’d found out he’d joined the rodeo. Where else could a man show off his masculinity and win money and awards?

Her greatest concern, h
ow would his need for an adrenaline rush work when he had a child who depended upon him? Could he be a positive role model?

Her other option was to
walk away and raise their child alone. Dante would never know.

Hell, she’d
know. How could she justify not giving her child a father?

She had to get tough and
not think back to the past or how he’d made her feel. To not relive in her mind every touch and entwining of limbs.

Hooking
up with a bad boy cowboy wouldn’t happen…not again.

All of the doubts and questions rolled through her mind.

If only Gramps was here to give her advice. She’d called her mom in Paris, thinking that maybe, for the first time ever, they could have a heart-to-heart chat, but that’d bombed. Since her mom divorced, she was enjoying the single’s life and didn’t have the time to call her only child.
Nothing new
.

Shaking
her head, she reminded herself to stay focused, hop into the fixated spot she hid in when she was writing a new song or going out on stage.

Inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, she allowed the stress to leave her body. She was strong and independent, and no matter what, she’d get through this.

And tomorrow, she’d tell Dante the news.

Chapter Six

“EGGS?”

Deckl
and nodded as he handed Dante the carton of brown eggs. “Yes, eggs.”

“I’m not taking April eggs.” He shook his head. “
That’s the lamest come on ever, Deck. And I’m not interested in hooking up with her.”

“This isn’t me playing Cupid. This is
you being neighborly. Remember how her grandpa would visit every Sunday when Mom and Dad were alive?”

“Mom and Dad were cool
, and they had the whole sociable thing down. We’re bad neighbors. I’m okay with it. Why aren’t you?”