Second Dance Cowboy (Second Chance)

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.

Di
llon 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.

H
ere 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.

St
epping 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.

“H
ere’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 rippl
ing 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 n
ew 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.