Authors: Maisey Yates
Last Chance Rebel
The prodigal son of Copper Ridge, Oregon, has finally come home
The man who ruined Rebecca Bear's life just strolled back into it with one heck of an offer. Years ago, Gage West's recklessness left Rebecca scarred inside and out. Now he wants to make amends by gifting her the building that houses her souvenir store. Rebecca won't take Gage's charity, but she's willing to make a deal with the sexy, reclusive cowboy. Yet keeping her enemy close is growing dangerously appealingâ¦
He's the wild West brother, the bad seed of Copper Ridge. That's why Gage needs the absolution Rebecca offers. He just didn't expect to need her. After years of regretting his past, he knows where his future liesâwith this strong, irresistible woman who could make a black sheep come home to stayâ¦
Praise for
New York Times
bestselling author Maisey Yates
“Fans of Robyn Carr and RaeAnne Thayne will enjoy [Yates's] small-town romance.”
â
Booklist
on
Part Time Cowboy
“Passionate, energetic and jam-packed with personality.”
â
USATODAY.com
's
Happy Ever After
blog on
Part Time Cowboy
“Yates writes a story with emotional depth, intense heartache and love that is hard fought for and eventually won in the second Copper Ridge installment⦠This is a book readers will be telling their friends about.”
â
RT Book Reviews
on
Brokedown Cowboy
“Wraps up nicely, leaving readers with a desire to read more about the feisty duo.”
â
Publishers Weekly
on
Bad News Cowboy
“The setting is vivid, the secondary characters charming, and the plot has depth and interesting twists. But it is the hero and heroine who truly drive this story.”
â
BookPage
on
Bad News Cowboy
In Copper Ridge, Oregon, lasting love
with a cowboy is only a happily-ever-after away. Don't miss any of Maisey
Yates's Copper Ridge tales, available now!
From HQN Books
Shoulda Been a Cowboy
(prequel novella)
A Copper Ridge Christmas
(ebook novella)
The Cowboy Way
Hometown Heartbreaker
(ebook
novella)
From Harlequin Desire
Look for more Copper
Ridge
Hold Me, Cowboy
(Harlequin Desire)
For more books by Maisey Yates, visit
www.maiseyyates.com
.
Maisey Yates
Last Chance Rebel
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
R
EBECCA
B
EAR
FINISHED
putting the last of the Christmas decorations onto the shelf and took a step back, smiling at her work.
Changing seasons was always her favorite thing to do at the Trading Post. Getting the new stock in and arranging it on her antique furniture, adding appropriate garlands and just the right scented candle to evoke the mood. It was the kind of thing she could never do in her own house, since all of her money was poured straight back into the business. So she got it out of her system here.
The air was filled with pine, apples and cinnamon spice. She inhaled deeply, a sweet sense of satisfaction washing over her.
Her store was tiny. Rent on Main Street, Copper Ridge, Oregon, was most definitely at a premium. Which was likely why every decent building on the block was owned by the richest family in town.
But she liked her modest space, stacked from floor to ceiling with knickknacks of all varieties. From the cheesy driftwood sort tourists were always after when they came to the coast, to art and furniture handcrafted by locals.
Beyond that, she tended to collect anything that she found interesting. She turned, facing the bright blue sideboard that was up against one of the walls. That was her bird display. Little ceramic birds, teaspoons with birds engraved on the handles, mugs with birds and frivolous little statues made of pinecones and driftwood to be placed anywhere in your home. All of them arranged over a beautiful handmade doily from one of the older women in town.
She kept that display all year round, and it always made her feel cheerful. She supposed that was because it was easy to identify with birds. They could fly anywhere, but they always came back home.
The bell above her door tinkled, and she turned around, a strange, twisting sensation hitting her hard in the stomach as a man ducked his head and walked inside.
His face was obscured by a dark cowboy hat. His shoulders were broad, and so was his chest. In spite of the cold weather he was wearing nothing but a tight black T-shirt, exposing muscular arms and forearms, and a dark band tattooed on his skin.
He straightened, tilting his hat backward, revealing a face that was arresting. It really was the only word. It stopped her in her tracks, stopped her breath in her lungs.
She had never seen him before. And yet, there was something familiar about him. Like she had seen those blue eyes before in a slightly different shape. Like she had seen that square jaw, darkened with stubble in a different context.
It was so strange. She wondered for a moment if maybe he were famous and it was just such a shock seeing him in her store and not in pictures that she couldn't place him. He was definitely good-looking enough to be a celebrity. A male model. Maybe a really hot baseball player.
“The place looks good,” he said.
“Thank you,” she responded, trying to sound polite and not weirded out.
She wasn't used to fielding random compliments on the look of her store from men who towered over her by at least a foot. Occasionally, little old ladies complimented her on that sort of thing. But not men like him.
“You do pretty good business,” he said, and it wasn't a question.
“Yes,” she said, taking a step backward, toward the counter. Her cellphone was over there, and while she doubted this guy was a psychopath, she didn't take chances with much of anything.
“I've been looking over some of your financial information, and I'm pretty impressed.”
Her stomach turned to ice. “I...why have you been looking at my financial...anything? How do you have access to that information?”
“It's part of the rental agreement you have with Nathan West. He's the owner of your building.”
She knew perfectly well who the owner of her building was. It felt a lot like making a deal with the devil to rent from Nathan West, but he owned the vacant part of Main, and she'd done her best to separate her personal issues from the man who potentially held her financial future in his hands.
Anyway, she'd figured that if she didn't rent from himâif she found a place off the beaten pathâand took a financial hit for it, then she was allowing the West family to continue to damage her.
So she'd swallowed all her prideâwhich was spiky, injured and difficult at the best of timesâand had agreed to rent the building from him.
Also, it wasn't Nathan West she had cause to hate. Not really.
It was his son.
Suddenly, she felt rocked. Rocked by the blue eyes of the man standing in front of her. She knew why they looked familiar now. But it couldn't be. Gage West had taken off years ago, after he'd ruined her life, and no one had ever seen him again.
He couldn't be back now. It wasn't possible.
Well, it was unless he was dead, but it wasn't fair.
She drew in a breath. “I reserve the right to refuse service to anyone. I've never cashed that chip in before, but I think today I just might.”
“Rebecca,” he said, his voice low, intense. “We need to talk.”
“No, we don't,” she said, her throat getting tight. “Not if you're who I think you are.
We
don't need to do anything.
You
need to get the ever-loving hell out of my store before I grab the shotgun I keep under the counter.”
“Gage West,” he said, as though she hadn't spoken. As though she hadn't
threatened
him. “I'm acting as my father's executor. I don't know if you heard, but he had a stroke a couple of days ago and is still recovering in the hospital.”
“I hadn't heard,” she said, not quite able to bring herself to say she was sorry. She wasn't all that surprised the news hadn't reached her; gossip tended to travel quickly in a town the size of Copper Ridge, but she'd all but been hibernating in her store while preparing for the holiday season. “I don't need to do any business with you, though.”
“That's not the case.”
“Yes, it absolutely is. I've managed to rent this building from your father for seven years. And in all that time I saw him face-to-face only a couple of times, otherwise we went through a property manager. I don't see why it has to be any different now.”
“Because things are different now.”
“Okay. Do you want to talk about things being different? I assume you know who I am.” Her voice was vibrating with rage, and she resented him. Resented him for walking into this little slice of the world that she had carved out for herself. This beautiful, serene place that was supposed to be hers and only hers. And in had walked her own personal demon in cowboy boots.
“I know who you are,” he said, his tone rough.
“Then you know I'm not kidding about the shotgun.”
“Look, Rebeccaâ”
“No, you look. The only thing I know about you is that you were driving a car on a rainy night seventeen years ago and caused an accident that destroyed my life. I assume that's all you know about me too. My name. Maybe my age. Maybe how much my mother was paid to keep the whole thing quiet.”
Those blue eyes burned into hers for a moment. “I don't know the exact amount, but my father made it clear that he paid to take care of my mistakes. And yes, I know about you too.”
“Then why are you in my store? You shouldn't be able to look me in the eye, much less stand here and talk to me like you don't know exactly what you did.”
He just stood there, looking a lot like a fighter resigned to taking blows. He didn't look defeated, nor did he look properly ashamed. And it seemed as though her jabs were glancing off of him.
“I'm here because I wanted to make sure that you knew the details of the situation.”
“I'm informed,” she said, hearing the weariness in her tone. “Thank you for stopping by. Feel free to let the door hit you on the way out.”
“I'm going to buy the building.” He continued on as though she hadn't spoken.
She felt like she had been hit by a car he was driving all over again. “You what?”
“I've been back in town for two days, and in that time, I've been going over the financial situation my family find themselves in.”
“Filthy rich with silver spoons up their asses?”
“Much less rich than my father would have people believe.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “And like it or not, it's my job to fix it. From my point of view the only option he has is to start lightening the load, so to speak. It's a sinking ship. And that means we have to throw cargo off. That means these little buildings that he owns here on Main are the first thing that need to go, from my perspective.”
She struggled to keep her voice calm even as the world reeled around her. The Almighty Nathan West wasn't swimming in money? And her storeâher safe havenâwas about to be sold out from under her, just like that? “Wait a second. You think you're qualified to make decisions like this? Where exactly did you get your degree?”
“Some online program. I printed the actual degree out at a Motel 6 in a shit town in Idaho I was passing through a few years ago.”
If it had been someone else under other circumstances, she might have appreciated his quick wit. “Which just serves as reminder that you've been gone from Copper Ridge for years. So why exactly do you think you're qualified to make this decision? A decision that affects me, and the other people who are currently tenants in your father's little fiefdom here.”
He lifted a shoulder, maddeningly calm, as he had been from the moment he had walked in. “I don't suppose I could ask you to trust me on that.”
“I don't suppose you could.”
“That's too bad, but unfortunately it doesn't change anything. I'm not here to put you out, but we can't hold on to any assets that are going to damage the West family finances.”
“But you said that you're buying the building. Aren't
you
the West family and its finances?”
“No,” he said, another infuriatingly opaque answer.
She narrowed her eyes. “If you're going to hand out an eviction notice, why don't you do it now? There's a nice symmetry to it. Just give me one more problem to put on your shoulders, Gage West. I don't mind. I'm happy to let you carry around my suffering.”
“I don't want your suffering,” he said, studying her from those impenetrable eyes. “But I would like to give you the building.”
* * *
G
AGE
HALF
EXPECTED
her to go for the shotgun now. Not that he could blame her. He couldn't blame her for any of this. For her anger, for her threats. He deserved every single thing that she lobbed at him. And more. But he had never pretended he wasn't guilty.
He was guilty. Straight down to the center of his soul, if he even had one left. He wasn't looking for atonement, wasn't searching for absolution. It wasn't to be had.
He simply wanted to fix what he could. It was why he was here.
“Get out.”
That wasn't the response he had expected. He had at least expected curiosity. But from the moment he had walked into the store, it had been apparent that Rebecca Bear wasn't quite what he had bargained for.
He hadn't pictured her being this hard, for one thing. He hadn't exactly pictured her as a woman either, in spite of the fact that he knew she had been running her own business here on Main Street for the past seven years. He was well aware of that because he had financed it in the first place. Not that she knew that. If she did, she would probably make good on her threats.
Still, it had been a shock to walk through the door and see her standing there, her chestnut hair cascading down past her shoulders, a smooth silky river, the petite but generous figure perfectly designed to draw a man's eye to all of the relevant dips and swells. Then there were her eyes, dark, sharp.
But what stopped him short was her smooth golden skin. Smooth golden skin that then transformed into a rough landscape midway down one side of her face, extending down her neck and beneath the collar of her shirt.
His most enduring gift to her.
“Not until you hear me out.”
“I'll call Sheriff Garrett.”
“I own the building. Or, my family does.”
“Eli won't care.” He could tell by the determined glitter in her eyes that even if she was bluffing, she was prepared to take her chances. Well, so was he. And the threat of having the police called was not exactly a deterrent to a man like him.
“I want to give you the building,” he repeated.
She looked as though she had been slapped. “I don't want your charity.”
“It isn't charity. Consider it payment.”
“Payment?”
The word was nearly a feral growl. “Compensation for everything that's behind door number one?” She waved her hand over the left half of her body as she said that. “Thanks, but I'm going to take a hard pass on your blood money.”
He had expected a lot of things. That she would be angry, of course. That she would be justifiably upset at his presence. But he had not expected her to reject his offer to give her the building her business was in outright.
“It isn't blood money. I owe you.”
“Yeah, you're damn right you do. But you couldn't repay me, not in this lifetime. There are things money can't fix, and I know that since you're a West that's a difficult concept for you to wrap your brain around, but it's the truth. And it's a truth people like me have known for years. Because we can't just throw money at things to make our problems go away. To cover them up. We actually have to deal with them.”
“You think I've been off somewhere living the high life all this time?” His conscience, so seared he had thought perhaps it had no more feeling left in it, burned slightly. Regardless of what he had actually been doing or the means within which he had been living, he'd had access to a lot of money.
