Second Song Cowboy (Second Chance) (10 page)

Staring
at the carton, she wasn’t sure what to say or do. Never before had anyone brought her eggs. The gift was thoughtful. Had she gotten that easy to please? “Where does fixing the fence come in?”

“I have a feeling a carton of fresh brown eggs won’t make up for the damage to the front end of that luxury vehicle you ro
lled into town in, so I thought I’d make it up to you by fixing the fence. Unless you can think of something else I can do?”

Oh brother!
A smooth smile curved his lips.

He was flirting! She
swallowed as sweat beaded between her breasts. “The rental company picked up the car and insurance will cover the damage.”

He scanned the driveway. “
Didn’t they bring you a different car?”

“
I told them I didn’t need one. I don’t know how long I’ll be here and I thought I had Gramps’s truck, but it wouldn’t start for me. I guess the old red beat-up has seen better days.”

“I
s it still in the garage?” She nodded. “I’ll take a look. You can’t be out here without transportation.”

“I—well—I don’t know why you’re being so kind. If you think that that
—”

He brought a hand up. “I have no ulterior motive. Take it for what it is, humanity still exists.”

April wanted to turn him away. She knew it was best that he climbed back into his truck and rode off into the sunset, leaving her alone to deal with the work on the farm. But, it’d been a long time since a man—anyone for that matter—had offered to help her do anything without expectation. The crowd she’d hung with over the years cared about making music, not making friends. She wasn’t even sure if she had any ‘real’ friends any longer. The protective wall she’d built years ago started to crumble as she looked into the gaze of a man who had once known her better than she knew herself. “Thank you, Dante.”

“T
hat’s nice.” He wriggled his thick brows.

“What is?”

“Your smile. It’s still amazing. You should do it more often.”

Her blood
ran so hot that she had to deny the urge to fan herself. “You haven’t changed much either. As charming as ever, I see.”

“I’d say thank you but that sounded more like an accusation than a compliment.” He swiped is hand through his still damp hair, sending
drops of sweat across his bare, tanned shoulders.

She started to reach out to touch his skin when she caught herself
. It’d be so easy to forget the years that had passed between them and sink into his arms. “Neither an accusation or a compliment, but rather an observation.”

“If you say so."
His gaze tumbled across her body and suddenly the thin tank top and shorts she wore seemed to grow too tight, which made her conscious how she must look after cleaning all morning. She hadn’t been expecting company, otherwise she’d have brushed her hair. When his gaze landed on her bare feet, she wriggled her toes in the thick grass as tingles spread up her legs.

Her body craved his touch. She’d melt like butter under his palm, if only…

His eyes came up, the corner of his mouth dipped into a frown. Was he fighting an internal battle also? “I’ll take a look at the truck and if it’s too much for me to handle, I’ll call Stevie McCoy. He can fix anything.”

“
Okay. I appreciate your help. I’ll go and get sex—I mean—shoes and the keys to unlock the garage.” What in God’s creation was she thinking? His smile returned.

Making
her way back up to the porch, she turned back, catching Dante’s heated gaze on her.
Wow. Just wow.
Her invisible tail wiggled and she wanted to invite him in for a sneak peak. His expression had dirty written all over it, and she didn’t mind. In fact, she was flattered.

As a country singer, she’d had a lot of fans over the years. She’d gotten letters filled with
compliments and sentiments, but a woman didn’t feel beautiful until she had a sexy cowboy look at her the way that Dante Brooke just did. He’d done more than look; he’d visually licked her from head to toe.

No wonder
she’d fallen for him at eighteen. He could make her feel like she was the only woman in the world. Although she’d had plenty of self-esteem, and some to grow on, Dante had come along and made her feel things a girl couldn’t resist—butterflies fluttering in the stomach, a heightened sense of arousal and uncontrollable laughter. Didn’t all women want a man who could make them laugh?

Stepping back into the protective cover of the house, she allowed the door to slam shut. She wasn’t the young girl with hopes and dreams
and innocent exploration any longer. Her womanly needs went beyond hot sex. Stability and responsibility had become priority. And she couldn’t forget Dante’s bad-boy reputation. Although he was her first lover, she knew he’d had others before her, and after. Had his womanly ways dulled?

Maybe her lack of satisfaction with anyone else made her want him much more
. Dante’s skilled lovemaking had lingered in her every cell, her bloodstream, so that when another man touched her, Dante came to mind. The night in Houston, he’d uncovered a part of her that remained in the past.

Now they shared a child.

Somehow, some way, she had to tell Dante about the baby.

For now, she had to walk back out there and face him.

Slipping on flip-flops, she started out the door, but stopped. First, she needed to be sure she didn’t look like she’d crawled out of a dumpster.

Running u
pstairs and into the bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. April smoothed her fingers over her wild corkscrew blonde ringlets. The tight curls had been her crowning glory when she had hairdressers at her disposal. Now she guessed the mass of hair would be the bane of her existence. It looked more like a frazzled mess than soft and luscious.

Why should she care what she looked like?

She no longer had millions of people watching her every move.

But against her wishes, for some awkward and silly reason, Dante’s opinion meant more to her than the
fans who’d bought her records.

Once upon a time, he was her biggest supporter.
He’d never complained about her flaws, her likes, her dislikes and her dreams. She hadn’t kept anything from him, not even the precious of gifts.

Turning
away from the mocking reflection, she needed to stop worrying.

Chapter Eight

DANTE GLANCED UP
from under the hood of the old truck and caught a glance of April sitting atop a broken down tractor. Her shapely legs were hanging over the side, her bare feet dangling, and he craved to say the hell with the truck and work on her body. With a growl, he turned away and stared into the greasy pit that appeared a lot like his life over the last years. Wishing he could focus, he explored the engine with half-interest. He cursed himself for the umpteenth time that he brought her the eggs and volunteered to work on the truck.

Why hadn’t he dropped off the eggs and left?
It would have been the easiest thing to do.

His
stomach clenched. He couldn’t just leave her out here. Of course, he could have suggested she call a mechanic. But no, he had to play superhero and offer to take a look. He wasn’t a mechanic, although he did know a little about the insides of an engine. Growing up, he loved tinkering with old cars. He could get the truck running, he was certain. But nothing could be without penalty. His lack of concentration was an example.

A part of him felt obligated to help April
. He’d gotten a look at the fence by the house and his protective instincts kicked into gear. A rusty nail held the boards together charged some harebrained idea to pitch in.

Mistake after mistake.

It wasn’t like Dante hated manual labor. In fact, he liked working outdoors and fixing things, then seeing the reward of his accomplishment, but since April had walked outside, he couldn’t stop looking at her—and his chest remained full and painful.

He caught a quick glance over the hood again. She could easily pass as the teenager he remembered.
Keeping a pristine and snobbish image of her in designer clothes and expensive jewelry would keep him from making a huge error, but the country girl he saw before him now took him back to the summer that he’d been tongue-tied and heart-twisted.

Damn, she was
lovelier without the layers of makeup and sophisticated clothes and hair. Here she was down home, relaxed and vibrant. Clouds of curls framed her lovely face. He’d even noticed the sprinkling of freckles on her nose, something he’d forgotten, but had loved. She had the biggest green eyes he’d ever seen. The green pools glinted with intelligence and a spark that came with mischief. The girl he remembered liked getting her hands dirty, skinny-dipping and riding a horse at break-neck speed.

Her slender body had developed, in a very luscious,
hourglass shape. From full, pert breasts, to slim waist dipping over luscious hips down along long sleek legs to the tips of red painted toes. Yeah, he’d gotten a good look. What man, straight or otherwise, wouldn’t have gotten a twitch in his dick seeing a woman built like April wearing a thin shirt, no bra, and shorts that skimmed the very thighs he wanted to grasp and tug as she writhed under him.

“Fuck!” He dropped the
tool and it clanged against the engine. He needed a break, grabbed the bottle of water, and downed the cool liquid. It did little to ease the tension buried inside the pit of his stomach.

He stepped away from the mess.

April looked at him. “It’s a lost cause, isn’t it?”

He shook his head. “I ran out of water.
” He lifted the empty bottle and shook it. “I thought I’d—”

“Come in
the house and I’ll get you another bottle.” She jumped down from the tractor and slipped into her shoes.

He started to shake his head, but
once she started walking, all logical thought drowned in senseless admiration. Her rounded bottom in the tight shorts made him see double.

Following
her back to the house, he made great effort in keeping his gaze on the back of her head, but the image of her perfectly rounded ass would be forever branded into his brain.

Once they were inside
the kitchen, she said, “I’ll grab you a cold water, and if it’s not too much trouble, I have another wee favor to ask.”

Logical
reasoning told him to run, fast! But looking at her face, seeing the poutiness of her bottom lip, drove him the wrong way across the threshold. “What’s wrong?” He could barely talk when all of the blood drained from his head. He’d always had a soft spot for women, but this was different. He didn’t want to slide himself deep inside of her—well, he did—but he wanted cuddling. He frowned. What was happening?

He wanted to run his fingers through her hair.
Kiss her gold-tipped eyelashes. Explore every inch of her until she sang his name. And if it came to him sinking himself inside of her, then he’d be one lucky man, but he’d get a lot of pleasure from just bringing her to release.

“My trap caught a mouse.”

“Okay?” Seeing the corners of her mouth turn down, he understood. “Are you afraid?”

“Well, not afraid.” She wrung her slender hands together. “I—I just feel a little squeamish.”

“Point me in the direction of this scary mouse.” He laughed, but not at her. In fact, he found it somewhat flattering that she was actually asking for his h
elp instead of sending her boot up his ass.

Grabbin
g his hand, she practically dragged him across the kitchen and pointed a slender finger to behind the microwave cart. “Behind there.”

He rolled the cart
to the side and a beady pair of eyes stared back. “He’s still alive.”

“Y
es, I know.” She stayed behind him. “I’d like to keep it that way.”

He blinked. “Wh
at?”

“I don’t want to share my home with a mouse, but I don’t have the heart to kill it.”

“Then hide your eyes and I’ll take of the rodent.”

Her fingers clasped his elbow. “No, you
can’t do that. We have to let him go.”

Why did things have to be so
complicated? “You’re wanting me to save a mouse?” The words even sounded ludicrous coming out of his mouth.

“What if it’s a mother and her babies are waiting for her?”

“Then that means fewer critters to worry about in the future.” Her chin tilted and there was no way he’d argue. “Okay. Do you have something I can put it in?”

He watched her reach for something on the counter. A Chinese takeout container. She’d even poked breathing holes in the top of the lid. Never would he
believe he’d gone from an image of snuggling to saving a filed mouse from death, all because of one pixie nosed bombshell.

Fully
aware that her fingers stayed on his skin, the heat leaked into his bloodstream as he attempted to focus on gathering the little rodent  into the small container. “April?”