Second Song Cowboy (Second Chance) (2 page)

Thinking
of his youngest brother, Dante looked at the wedding picture of Dillon and Peyton stuck to the refrigerator with a frog magnet. Six months ago, Dillon had married the woman of his dreams and Dante was happy for him. He’d never seen his brother this content. And Dante thought the world of Dillon’s bride. Peyton was a damn good wife and an awesome mother to her son Oliver. Dante guessed his brother and Peyton would have a baby of their own before too long. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Dante
smiled as he took a cup down from the cabinet. He knew Dillon would make a great dad. Deckland would also if he ever found the right woman. On the other hand, Dante didn’t see himself as a father or a husband. He liked being single and, although he’d changed a lot over the last year, he still had some realigning to do. He’d hit rock bottom a few years ago and the only way he could go now was up.

Dante
scratched the layer of prickly beard on his chin and sighed. He’d made some awful mistakes, which had harmed his relationship with his brother. Getting involved with Cassie, Dillon’s ex, had been the door to a downward spiral. Dante would like to come up with logical justification why he’d hooked up with her, but an excuse would be a coward’s way out.

Cassie had broken off her engagement to Dillon, and when he’d taken off to Shelby to work on the McAllister Ranch, she started showing up at Brooke Creek asking for Dante’s help with one thing or another. He’d felt sorry for her, and when she’d cry, he’d do what he thought was right and let her use his shoulder. Because she’d been his brother’s girl, Dante had listened as she went on and on about her broken heart. He’d ignored the tiny shirts that showed off big tits, flat stomach and the short skirts that revealed long legs that’d make any red-blooded cowboy wonder what they’d feel like wrapped around his hips.

Hell,
it’d been years since he gave a shit about anything or anyone—fifteen years to be exact. And along came Cassie who could sweep a saddle right out from under a man before he realized he was riding bare back.

One night
, almost six months after Dillon had split town, Dante woke up with Cassie’s warm body crawling into his bed. She’d come after the bar closed to show off her new diamond piercing. Expecting earrings, maybe a tongue ring, he was blown away when she pulled down her jeans and thong to reveal the tiny stud nestled between nether lips. The next thing he knew, she was clutching his hard cock and he was history.

He woke the morning after
and explained to Cassie that things went too far. She blinked her pretty eyes and slid her hot body over his, and he’d given in.
Foolish sucker.

Now
, he wished he’d removed the extra house key Dillon had hidden under a rock so she couldn’t have let herself in that night.

Hell,
this was his responsibility and his alone. He’d allowed his body to rule his mind. He should have demanded that she leave, but when she’d spread her legs wide and flicked the diamond stud, he’d lost all reasonable thought.

In the months that followed, he’d grown to care
for Cassie and he’d wanted things to work between them, even when warning after freaking warning blared in the back of his mind that she wasn’t the settling kind any more than he ever would be.

L
ooking back, he could see that Cassie cared for no one but herself.

At least Dillon had
forgiven him. Never again would Dante allow anything or anyone to come between him and his brothers.

Throwing an eyeful of coffee granules into the c
offee maker then pouring in water, he flipped the switch and the black gold started to brew.

Once he had a large mug
with extra cream and sugar, he flipped on the radio, turned up the volume and walked out onto the porch. He inhaled, getting a whiff of fresh hay. The boys must have delivered the bales. He’d help stack them after he drank his coffee.

A familiar
country song flowed from the radio speakers. He suspended his cup mid-air as he listened to the tune about lost loves and broken hearts. It wasn’t only the song that got him, but also the familiar voice of the woman he used to know. The ticket to her show lay discarded on his floor.

He
tried to block out the catchy melody as he sipped the hot brew, not caring that the liquid burned all the way into his stomach. Over the years, he’d listened to her songs and each one was like a time machine to a summer long ago. Her long curly hair, her big green eyes and twinkling smile erupted in his brain at the most inopportune stretches. For years, he’d hoped that his mind would eventually forget her, but he’d realized the more he attempted to push her memory aside, the more he remembered.

He guessed everyone had
that one person they couldn’t forget, and for him, that was April. She’d left Texas, and him, to follow her dreams. Hell, he couldn’t fault her for wanting to make something of herself. She’d not only glided up the ladder of success over the years, but her sultry voice had made her millions. He’d guarantee her sweet and innocent looks hadn’t hurt in music sales.

As she sang the chorus, h
er calling his name in her signature raspy voice while gazing up at him with penetrating eyes haunted him.

Even at eighteen,
he’d known she had a powerhouse of talent, and not just in singing. She’d caught him in her web and he hadn’t minded. He shook his head as acid rose in his chest. Damn, he’d been a stupid kid.

What
had either one of them known or understood about love and romance? Not a single damned thing.

The song
ended and the announcer’s croaky voice slashed through Dante’s thoughts like a lead weight. “Listen up all of you April Rayne fans. She’ll be making a lot of Texans happy this evening while making a guest appearance at the Houston Show Rodeo. If you were one of the lucky ones who seized a ticket, count your blessings. They sold like hotcakes. Now, how about an oldie but goody. Conway Twitty, I Don’t Know a Thing About Love.”

Dante downed the last drop of coffee and stared into the distance, ignoring the curiosity bubbling inside of hi
m. Why would he care that an old flame was visiting her old stomping ground?

The last time he’d seen her
hadn’t been the most pleasant. She’d shown up late for her grandpa’s funeral. Rolling up in a sleek white limo, she’d slid out of the back wearing a designer outfit and flashing a diamond on her fourth finger that probably cost more than his new, decked out truck. She’d looked nothing like the girl he remembered, but of course, the wide sunglasses she’d worn through most of the service had hid half of her face. But the cowgirl who once loved to get her hands dirty had been washed away.

He wondered if
money and fame did that to a person.

As far as he was concerned, she could drop by, play a few songs and head on back to the land of glory, because
the boat between them had long sailed.

****

April walked off stage, barely absorbing the pats on her back and the words of praise from the backstage crew as she listened to the applause and whistles from the crowd. Pleasure simmered inside her until she spotted her manager, Kiefer Glove, waiting for her, wearing a scowl and arms crossed. He’d been in a salty mood since she’d scheduled the performance at the Houston Rodeo Event. The veins in his neck had threatened to blow when she’d announced that she’d be donating all of the proceeds to charity. As she got closer, he smoothed a hand over his greasy comb over and sighed.

The local
charity she’d raised money for made Kiefer’s grumpy attitude worthwhile. Fifty-thousand dollars would go a long way to help cancer survivors—and she needed to give back to those who helped her Gramps Liam when he was diagnosed.

Her heart pinged.

Gramps loved Texas. Had lived here all of his life. Not a day had passed when she didn’t miss him. Tonight was the first time she’d stepped foot in Texas since she’d attended his funeral seven years ago.

Where had time gone?

Her heart broke with all of the regret of not seeing him more the last few years of his life. Growing up, she’d spent almost every summer at his farm.

“Happy?” Kiefer’s
annoyed tone pulled her from her thoughts.

“Yes, and you should be also. Listen to the crowd?
They’re happy. That’s what matters.” She stepped past him and into her dressing room.

He followed her, grumbling, “You could have done a show in Florida tonight. Ticket sales were out of the roof for the country jamboree.”

Sitting on the couch, she slipped off her boots. “I happen to love Texas, and the people. Brawny cowboys with big horses, what’s not to like?”

He shrugged a thin shoulder and smoothed his hand over his checked plaid jacket. “I guess there are some good things about this state,” he huffed.

“Enjoy the scenery while we’re here.” She couldn’t deny she felt a sliver of joy in his frustration, but she didn’t want to egg him on. A pleasant Kiefer was hard enough to digest, but an unhappy Kiefer made her nauseous. Sometimes she wondered why she didn’t find a new manager, but after so many years, and how far he’d taken her in the business, at least she knew she could depend on him, even if he was a bit malicious at times. After everything, she guessed they did have a love/hate relationship.

Kiefer checked himself in the mirror
, smoothed his fingertips over his lips, and then turned to her with a hint of a smile. “We’re leaving first thing in the morning. Get your beauty sleep. You’ll be performing in Oklahoma tomorrow night.”

Another show?
“I thought you said I’d have a couple of days to relax?”

He snapped his fingers and one overly groomed brow shot up
. “Time’s money, April. There was a cancelation in one of the star performances and I got you the spot. You’re not going to complain, are you?”

Her muscles ached
, which happened more and more these days. And she wanted to take some time and visit her Gramps’s old homestead. She could use a good dose of home. “Would it do any good if I protested?”

“I’m sure Desiree Jenkins would be jumping for joy if her manager landed her a show like the one in Tulsa, not eyeing him like she could strangle him.”

Cringing, she wanted to throw her boot at him, but refrained. “I have socks older than Desiree.”

“Yes, I know.” He rolled his eyes. “I know you hate me, but if y
ou only knew how hard it is booking the best performances when younger singers are stealing the limelight.”

“Every singer has their day. I’ve come to accept this, and so should you.” Relaxing into the cushion, she knew if she closed her eyes she’d fall asleep. His
loud gasp made her jerk wide-awake.

“Bite your tongue! Now, get some sleep.” He stomped toward the door.

Shrugging off any thoughts of visiting home, she realized it wasn’t going to happen. Forcing a smile on her tired lips, she said, “Not a problem. You should get some sleep too, Kiefer. The bags under your eyes combined with the scowl don’t work.”

“I’m allergic to dust and horses. I swear I think you dragged me to this
place out of spite.” He sniffed dramatically.

“You caught me. I dwell on ways that I can m
ake you miserable because I love when you ooze your misery onto me.”

“Just get some sleep.” He slammed the door.

Once alone, April stretched her arms high above her head. Without a break over two weeks, her body was paying the price. Unfortunately, she wasn’t getting any younger. This business was always a fight—a tooth and nail struggle to stay on top.

Years ago, she’d
read the billboard music charts religiously, but these days, she didn’t want to see reality slapping her in the face. Brighter stars were pulling ahead. Unlike Kiefer, she didn’t hold envy or jealousy for the fresh faces of the business, and accepted that everything changed, whether one liked it or not.

Getting up from the couch, she took a seat at the vanity and
stared at her dull reflection. Who was she to poke fun at Keifer’s baggage when she had a smudge of dark circles under each eye and the layers of makeup couldn’t even hide her ruddy skin.

Grabbing
a tissue and pouring on a glop of makeup remover, she wiped away the thick remains of foundation, mascara and eyeliner, feeling instantly refreshed. Her springy curls were untamable, so she pulled them up into a messy bun, changed into jeans and T-shirt when a soft knock came.

Throwing open the door, she expected to see
her driver letting her know he was ready to take her home, but instead, she was met with a blast from the past. Her breathing turned ragged and every nerve of her body stood to attention. She opened her mouth, but words were lost.

“Hel
lo, April.” The husky voice did mystical things to her nipples.

“Dante
Brooke. What a big surprise. I—I…” What more could she say?

He pushed his hat further back on his forehead
, exposing the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. “In the flesh.”

He’d changed, but in all of the
best possible ways. His piercing gaze and good looks had been the star of many of her the songs she’d written, and the reason for many sleepless nights. “What are you doing here?’